The Theology of John Duns Scotus 2018001122, 2018002781, 9789004360235, 9789004357372

Table of contents :
Contents
Preface
Abbreviations
Notes on References
Chapter 1
Duns Scotus’ Life and Works – Ideas of Theology
1.1 Introduction
1.2 Historical Background
1.3 Oxford
1.3.1 The Early Years of John Duns
1.3.2 Lectura I-II
1.4 Paris I
1.4.1 The Outrage of Paris
1.5 Oxford and Cambridge
1.5.1 Again in Oxford
1.5.2 Comfort in Disaster
1.5.3 Cambridge
1.6 Paris II and Cologne
1.6.1 Paris II
1.6.1.1 A World Historical Debate? The Grand Disputation: Fact or Legend?
1.6.1.2 1304-1307
1.6.2 Cologne
1.7 Duns Scotus’ Biblical Theology
1.8 Theology as Scientific Activity
1.8.1 Theology is Practical
1.9 Perspectives
Chapter 2
God Triune
2.1 Introduction
2.2 Historical Background
2.3 The Life of the Trinity: processio and productio
2.3.1 Divine production and procession
2.3.2 Conclusions
2.4 Potentia absoluta/ordinata
2.5 The Generation of the Son
2.5.1 Semantic Aspects
2.5.2 Divine Generation
2.5.3 God’s Knowing and Willing
2.5.3.1 Conclusion
2.5.4 The Logic of the Potentia Divina: Duns Scotus
2.5.4.1 The Term ‘Absolutus’
2.6 The Spiration of the Holy Spirit
2.6.1 The filioque
2.7 The Constitution of Divine Persons
2.7.1 Lectura I 26
2.7.2 The Strategy of Lectura I 26
2.7.3 The Systematic Field of Forces
2.7.4 The Explanation of a Personal Dilemma
2.8 Epilogue
2.8.1 Divine Personhood and Person
2.8.2 Conclusion
Chapter 3
Jesus Christ
3.1 Introduction
3.2 Some Background Information
3.2.1 Thomas Aquinas
3.3 The Crucial Christ
3.4 The Two Natures of Jesus Christ
3.4.1 Individuality and Being a Person
3.4.1.1 Option One
3.4.1.2 Option Two
3.4.2 Perspective
3.5 Reconciliation
3.6 Adoptionism?
3.6.1 The Key Issue
3.6.2 Christ’s Impeccability
3.7 Outlook
Chapter 4
Creation
4.1 Introduction
4.2 God the Creator
4.3 Trinitarian Creativity
4.4 Creation as Relation
4.5 Material Things
4.6 The Eternity of the World
4.7 Time, Place and Space
4.7.1 Time
4.7.2 Place and Space
4.8 Creation, Philosophy and Science
Chapter 5
Ethics
5.1 Introduction
5.2 Duns Scotus’ Ethical Writings
5.3 Actus and praxis
5.4 Kinds of Laws
5.5 The Sabbath Commandment
5.6 The Virtue of Being Human
5.7 Lying
5.8 Perjury
5.9 Bigamy
5.10 Harris on Scotus’ Ethics
5.11 Concluding Remarks
5.11.1 Biblical Jammers
5.11.2 Systematic Structures
5.11.3 Ethics and Spirituality
Chapter 6
Justification
6.1 Introduction
6.2 Idiom and Tradition
6.2.1 Introduction
6.2.2 The Historical Background
6.2.3 To Justify
6.2.4 The Ontological duplex ordo
6.3 The Context of the Doctrine of Justification
6.4 Love and the Holy Spirit
6.5 Acceptatio divina
6.6 Grace and Sin
6.7 Martin Luther on Justification
6.8 Hans Küng and Karl Barth
6.9 Outlook
Chapter 7
Predestination
7.1 Introduction
7.2 Terminology: ‘Predestination’ and ‘Election’
7.3 The Contingency of Predestination
7.3.1 Introduction
7.3.2 The Contingency of Election
7.3.3 The Contingency of Rejection
7.4 God’s Permission
7.4.1 Introduction
7.4.2 Positive Acts of Will
7.4.3 Negative Acts of Willing
7.4.4 The Effect and Prevention Approach: permissio I
7.4.4.1 Some More Aspects of permissio
7.4.5 The Second Order Willing Approach: permissio II
7.5 The Finality of Election
7.6 The Structure of Election
7.7 The Number of the Elect and the Fall
7.8 The Structure of Rejection
7.8.1 The Basicality of God’s Goodness
7.8.2 The Structural Moments
7.8.3 The Element of Necessity
7.8.4 Final Dilemmas
7.9 Final Considerations
7.9.1 Comparative Theology
Chapter 8
Sacraments
8.1 Introduction
8.2 Sacrament
8.3 Baptism
8.4 Confirmation
8.5 The Eucharist
8.5.1 The Inseparability or Separability of Accidents
8.5.2 Final Evaluative Considerations
8.6 Penance and Confession
8.7 The Extreme Unction
8.8 Sacred Orders
8.9 Marriage
8.10 Systematic Coherence
Chapter 9
Theology in a New Key: Extrapolations and Perspectives
9.1 Introduction
9.2 The Doctrine of God Triune
9.3 God Incarnate: Light from Light, God from God
9.3.1 Jesus Christ
9.3.2 Analysis and Synthesis
9.4 Creation and Anthropology
9.5 Ethics: Ethics of Existence and Love
9.6 Grace, Justification and Predestination
9.7 Perspectives
9.7.1 Eucharist, Transubstantiation, Consubstantiation
9.7.2 Election and Predestination
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview



The Theology of John Duns Scotus By

Antonie Vos

LEIDEN | BOSTON

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Vos, A. (Antonie), author. Title: The theology of John Duns Scotus / by Antonie Vos. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2018. | Series: Studies in reformed theology, ISSN 1571-4799 ; VOLUME 34 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018001122 (print) | LCCN 2018002781 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004360235 (E-book) | ISBN 9789004357372 (paperback : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Duns Scotus, John, approximately 1266-1308. | Theology, Doctrinal--History--Middle Ages, 600-1500. Classification: LCC BX4705.D89 (ebook) | LCC BX4705.D89 V67 2018 (print) | DDC 230/.2092--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018001122

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 1571-4799 isbn 978-90-04-35737-2 (paperback) isbn 978-90-04-36023-5 (e-book) Copyright 2018 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill nv provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, ma 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Contents

Contents Preface ix Abbreviations xi Notes on References xii 1 Duns Scotus’ Life and Works – Ideas of Theology 1 1.1 Introduction 1 1.2 Historical Background 2 1.3 Oxford 5 1.4 Paris I 15 1.5 Oxford and Cambridge 19 1.6 Paris II and Cologne 24 1.7 Duns Scotus’ Biblical Theology 31 1.8 Theology as Scientific Activity 37 1.9 Perspectives 46 2 God Triune 48 2.1 Introduction 48 2.2 Historical Background 50 2.3 The Life of the Trinity: processio and productio 56 2.4 Potentia absoluta/ordinata 67 2.5 The Generation of the Son 68 2.6 The Spiration of the Holy Spirit 78 2.7 The Constitution of Divine Persons 82 2.8 Epilogue 92 3 Jesus Christ 98 3.1 Introduction 98 3.2 Some Background Information 100 3.3 The Crucial Christ 105 3.4 The Two Natures of Jesus Christ 115 3.5 Reconciliation 125 3.6 Adoptionism? 133 3.7 Outlook 144 4 Creation 147 4.1 Introduction 147 4.2 God the Creator 149

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Contents

4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 4.7 4.8

Trinitarian Creativity 159 Creation as Relation 163 Material Things 167 The Eternity of the World 174 Time, Place and Space 182 Creation, Philosophy and Science 193

5 Ethics 198 5.1 Introduction 198 5.2 Duns Scotus’ Ethical Writings 201 5.3 Actus and praxis 203 5.4 Kinds of Laws 206 5.5 The Sabbath Commandment 211 5.6 The Virtue of Being Human 214 5.7 Lying 221 5.8 Perjury 223 5.9 Bigamy 226 5.10 Harris on Scotus’ Ethics 228 5.11 Concluding Remarks 232 6 Justification 236 6.1 Introduction 236 6.2 Idiom and Tradition 238 6.3 The Context of the Doctrine of Justification 243 6.4 Love and the Holy Spirit 245 6.5 Acceptatio divina 249 6.6 Grace and Sin 253 6.7 Martin Luther on Justification 259 6.8 Hans Küng and Karl Barth 267 6.9 Outlook 273 7 Predestination 275 7.1 Introduction 275 7.2 Terminology: ‘Predestination’ and ‘Election’ 278 7.3 The Contingency of Predestination 279 7.4 God’s Permission 287 7.5 The Finality of Election 301 7.6 The Structure of Election 303 7.7 The Number of the Elect and the Fall 311 7.8 The Structure of Rejection 315

Contents

7.9 Final Considerations 327 8 Sacraments 335 8.1 Introduction 335 8.2 Sacrament 336 8.3 Baptism 347 8.4 Confirmation 354 8.5 The Eucharist 357 8.6 Penance and Confession 378 8.7 The Extreme Unction 381 8.8 Sacred Orders 382 8.9 Marriage 385 8.10 Systematic Coherence 388 9 Theology in a New Key: Extrapolations and Perspectives 392 9.1 Introduction 392 9.2 The Doctrine of God Triune 394 9.3 God Incarnate: Light from Light, God from God 397 9.4 Creation and Anthropology 406 9.5 Ethics: Ethics of Existence and Love 408 9.6 Grace, Justification and Predestination 414 9.7 Perspectives 415 Bibliography 419 Index 446 455

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PrefacePreface

ix

Preface When the members of the Research Group John Duns Scotus prepared their commentary on Duns’ Lectura I 39 many years ago, they discovered that every item in the literature on the subject had not only to be absorbed and assessed, but also to be checked, for mistakes abounded in it.1 It is difficult to find systematically the right path, because we have not only to face mistakes, but many interpretations of Scotus’ thought are diametrically opposed to each other. The older approach follows the patterns of Thomist Neoscholasticism and this road is a misleading one which does not lead to an adequate understanding of the thought of Duns Scotus. We have to understand that John Duns was every inch an Oxford man. Thus, we have to become familiar with the language and the logic of English theology and philosophy in the second half of the thirteenth century. When I wrote Johannes Duns Scotus (1994), I discovered to my own surprise that I could substantially enrich our knowledge about John Duns’ theological thought,2 and I decided to continue this journey. In the meantime, the Research Group John Duns Scotus published Duns Scotus on Divine Love (2003),3 and I wrote The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus (2006).4 In The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus I explained the meanings of very many technical terms in the works of John Duns. These terms also function in the theological writings. In this book I do not repeat my earlier explanations: I simply refer to The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus. These years were not only years of hard work, but also years of abundant joy, for it is a privilege and a blessing to share historically in such a wonderful, but short life, which started in 1266-750 years ago. Gonsalvo, the Minister General of the Franciscan Order in Duns’ time wrote about his young confrère in the autumn of 1304: 1 See A. Vos, H. Veldhuis, A.H. Looman-Graaskamp, E. Dekker and N.W. den Bok, John Duns Scotus. Contingency and Freedom. Lectura I 39 (= CF), Dort 21994, 3-9 (i-viii and 1-206). Cf. Vos, Veldhuis, Looman-Graaskamp, Dekker and Den Bok, John Duns Scotus. Contingentie en Vrijheid. Lectura I 39, Zoetermeer 11992. 2 See Antonie Vos, Johannes Duns Scotus, Leiden 1994, 23-37 (i-x and 1-284: a survey of the theology of Duns Scotus). 3 Vos, A., H. Veldhuis, E. Dekker, N.W. den Bok and A.J. Beck, Duns Scotus on Divine Love. Texts and Commentary on Goodness and Freedom, God and Humans, Aldershot 2003. 4 Antonie Vos, The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus (= DPhil), Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press 2006, 1-667.

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Preface

I am fully acquainted with his praiseworthy life, excelling knowledge and most subtle mind. I am sure that Gonsalvo was right.

Abbreviations Abbreviations

xi

Abbreviations AFH CF

CHLMP DPhil DS EP ER FS KN

Lexicon REP

Archivum Franciscanum Historicum 1 (1908) –. Vos, A., H. Veldhuis, A.H. Looman-Graaskamp, E. Dekker and N.W. den Bok, John Duns Scotus. Contingency and Freedom. Lectura I 39, Dor­drecht/Boston 1994. Norman Kretzmann, Anthony Kenny and Jan Pinborg (eds.), The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, Cambridge 1982. Antonie Vos, The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus, Edinburgh UP 2006. Antonie Vos, Johannes Duns Scotus, Leiden 1994. Paul Edwards (ed.), The Encyclopedia of Philosophy I-VIII, New York/Lon­ don 1967. Mircea Eliade (ed.), The Encyclopedia of Religion I-XVI, ­New York/ London 1987. Franciscan Studies 1 (1940) –. Vos, Kennis en Noodzakelijkheid. Een kritische analyse van het absolute evidentialisme in wijsbegeerte en theologie Kampen 1981. Academic dissertation (Knowledge and Necessity). Biografisch Lexicon voor de geschiedenis van het Nederlandse Protestan­ tis­me, Kampen: Kok I-VI, 1978-2006. Edward Craig (ed.), The Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy I-X, London 1998.

xii

Notes on References

Notes On References

Notes on References The basic rule concerns the policy to arrange the references in the notes in a way which is as simple as possible. The references rest on the bibliography: surname of the author, including et al., if more authors are involved, title or short title, page or pages. References to Duns Scotus’ writings are as simple as possible, for example, Lectura I 39.72: title of the work of Duns Scotus – Lectura –, number of the book of the Lectura: I, number of the distinction of the book of Lectura I: 39, and number of the section: 72: Lectura I 39.72.

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Chapter 1

Duns Scotus’ Life and Works – Ideas of Theology 1.1

Introduction

John Duns Scotus’ life seems to have been rather simple and uneventful. In fact, despite being brief, it was full of tensions and drama. Likewise, Scotism seems to have had an inconspicuous standing within the development of Western thought, but if we were to interview important Christian intellectual leaders at the beginning of the fourteenth century, we would discover that his thought was seen as the summit of mainstream thirteenth-century thought. It is also a tradition constitutive throughout the vicissitudes of the history of Western thoug­ht until the end of the eighteenth century. Even as late as the seventeenth century, Scotus’ influence was remarkably powerful.1 However, the picture of nineteenth-century thought is quite a different one, for nineteenth- and twentieth-century theology and philosophy created alternative ways of thinking than before 1800, which were diametrically opposed to Scotism in logic, ontology, ethics and the doctrine of God. After 1800, the classic tradition of Christian scholastic thought collapsed. What had been essential became marginal. Duns Scotus’ enormous influence for five centuries is all the more remarkable because of his short life. He died sudddenly in Cologne (Germany) on 8 November 1308, at only 42 years of age. This chapter presents an overview of Duns’ life and works. First, I tell about the back­ground of his life and work (§ 1.2). Of all the great philosophers, John Duns Scotus is the one whose life is least known and whose biography rests almost entirely on conjecture.2 But now the true story can be told. §§ 1.3-1.6 survey John Duns’ periods of residence, both in Britain and on the continent: § 1.3: Oxford, § 1.4: Paris I, § 1.5: Oxford and Cambridge and § 1.6: Paris II and Cologne. The drive behind the creativity of his systematic thought is to be located in his theology. § 1.7 1 See Vos, ‘Duns Scotus at Paris,’ in Boulnois, Karger, Solère and Sondag (eds.), Duns Scot à Paris, 17-19, and Beck, Gisbertus Voetius (1589-1676), 383-90, 412 and 417-26. 2 Sir Anthony Kenny, Medieval Philosophy, 82. Compare a remark by Kenny, Medieval Philosophy, 83 note 6: ‘My account of Scotus’ life owes much to a detailed study, sadly still unpublished, by Antoon Vos,’ referring to DPhil, which was published in 2006.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004360235_002

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expounds the sense in which theology is biblical theology for Duns Scotus, and the sense in which it is scientific (§ 1.8­). Final considerations and reflections are to be found in § 1.9: ‘Perspectives.­’ 1.2

Historical Background

The phenomenon of critical academic activity rests on methodological revolutions, for scientific work is co-operative. Critical and scientific thought cannot be an individual affair. It needs institutions, not just talented scholars and individuals of genius. Such scientific institutions – to encompass scholarship as well as strict sciences – are complex and the outcome of long and extraordinarily innovative processes. The decisive new institutions for European higher teaching and education only developed during the eleventh and twelfth centuries. At the same time, they enjoyed an enormous growth and some centers of academic activity became very influential. This achievement was made possible by two impressive innovations: monastic education created the monastery school and the phenomenon of diocesan theological education created the cathedral school or church school. Famous examples of the first type of schools were the monastery schoo­ls of Cluny and Le Bec (Lanfranc and Anselm) and famous examples of the second type were the cathedral schools of Chartres and Paris.3 Moreover, it is true even of the early Middle Ages that revealed religion, so far from being an obstacle to philosophical speculation, encouraged some of its most profitable developments.4 Being dependent on the process of mission and Christianization and on the ongoing renewal of the Church, these monastery and cathedral schools are unique from the viewpoint of the history of culture. The best schools of both types developed special dynamics of their own and became centers of higher learning, unique in their social structure and capacity for theoretical formation. The academic patterns of team formation and specialization were forged. The foundations of the internal structures of modern university life lie in this world of learning. Before the twelfth century, scientific knowledge was the 3 The cathedral school of Paris was the school of the Notre Dame, the nucleus of the future university. For the crucial roles of the papacy in this formative process, see Robinson, The Papacy 1073-1198. 4 Marenbon, Early Medieval Philosophy (480-1150), vii-viii.

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business of a brilliant scholar or individuals of genius.5 The eleventh and twelfth centuries saw the growth of splendid academic education by a new web of institutions for higher learning. The birth of the university was an epochmaking process: The medieval university was primarily an indigenous product of Western Europe.6 One is also struck by the enormous vitality in the activities of the Church and in theology of the thirteenth century. This century was the century of the evangelical revival of the mendicant orders. A new évangelisme flowed throughout Europe and, particularly, in England. Thirteenth-century theology was par excellence the theology of the orders of the poverty movement, especially in its more prominent orders, the Friars Preachers and the Friars Minor, the Carmelites and the Austin Friars. The two original institutions of Francis and Dominic gave a new impetus to the religious world. The gift of the former was the spiritual ideal of simplicity and poverty, wedded to that of apostolic service to the poor; the gift of the latter was seen in the fully knit, strongly centralized order, aiming at work and at study, by an efficient system of elected bodies and temporarily nominated superiors: Before many years had passed, [...], the orders of Minors and Preachers had each taken something of the other’s peculiar property: the Preachers, beginning as quasi-canons, professedly clerks, became friars and mendicants; the Minors from a loosely knit, unconventional body became a centralized order and a student order, whose machinery was modelled closely upon that of the Preachers.7 Moreover, the Carmelite Friars and the Augustinian Friars or Hermits, enigmatic in their origins, soon grew in numbers to a position little short of the Minors and became two of the great orders of the fourteenth and fifteenth 5 See Cobban, The Medieval Universities, 3-20: ‘University proem,’ and 21-36: ‘Concept of a university.’ Cf. DS 1-9. On the relationship between the Christian faith and cultural and technological dynamics in general, see De Knijff, Tussen woning en woestijn, 41-69. Cf. Grant, God and Reason in the Middle Ages. 6 Cobban, The Medieval English Universities, 1 (1-18: ‘The medieval university: The European context’). On the concept of the medieval univer­sity, see idem, The Medieval Universities, 21-36. 7 Knowles, The Religious Orders I 194. On the Carmelites, see Knowles, op. cit., 196-9, and on the Friars Heremits of St. Augustine (Austin Friars), see Knowles, op. cit., 199-201.

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centuries. The thirteenth century was the first century of the new orders of the Friars Preachers and the Friars Minor. England turned out to be remarkably sensitive to the charm of the Francis­can branch of the poverty movement. In the twelfth century the poverty movement had fallen into relative desuetude, but it rose again in the thir­teenth century and its rebirth could in no way have been foreseen. The spread of the evangelical movement had an enormous impact on the development of theology. The new theology, professional as it had become, gave birth to a new philosophy during the second half of the thirteenth century. The theological faculty of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries was a center of scholarly creativity more important for the development of philosophy (in the modern sense of the word) than the ‘philosophical’ faculty (in the medieval sense of the facultas artium). The best minds of Europe at the time opted for theology, just as the best minds opted for physics after Einstein’s breathtaking discoveries. A powerful church supported the evolution of knowledge in many ways. Theology was prominent through the boom of the friar movements. Their critical attitude and great numbers heightened the speed of theological discoveries, especially at Oxford: For most of the thirteenth century, Oxford theologians, it seems, followed in the intellectual wake of those of Paris, but by the 1280s, Oxford masters were making contributions to theological debates on a par with those made by their Parisian colleagues. [...] The intellectual distinction which this generated, combined with the fact that only Paris, Oxford and Cambridge, from their origins, Florence, from 1359, and Bologna, from 1364, had the right to promote to the doctoral degree in theology, made Oxford, and indeed Cambridge, attract a migratory stream of continental friars, and this influx was accentuated when Paris University fell into one of its recurrent states of disorder.8 At a very early age John Duns had studied at one of the most excellent studia generalia of that time, connected with one of the three theological faculties of Europe’s universities able to grant the degree of doctor of divinity. This degree was a very special one. Duns may have met John Peckham, the keen archbishop of Canterbu­ry (1279-92). There was a long standing tradition of teaching of kindred spirits. Oxford was in wholehearted agreement with the course of 8 Cobban, The Medieval English Universities, 214.

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Bonaventure and Henry of Ghent,9 Robert Kilwardby and John Pecham.10 Oxford’s schools and university were the intellectual milieu of the student Duns who was of Scottish origin. The University of Oxford is estimated to have had between 1,500 and 1,700 members.11 Only one example needs to be adduced in order to show how privileged the situation of the young John Duns was. The friaries not only enjoyed the best research­ers, but they also possessed the best libraries. The Dominican and Franciscan libraries were organized in an excellent way including the library of the Franciscan studium at Oxford: Grosseteste, out of love of the Franciscan Adam Marsh, left his papers to the Grey friars at Oxford. In 1290 the convent’s library contained in addition a splendid collection of works which would have been of use in commenting on the Bible. [...] Gascoigne found his works well preserved in the fifteenth century. By that time the Franciscans had two libraries at Oxford, one for the generality friars and one specifically for the students.12 The rebirth of the monastery school took place in the bosom of the new poverty orders. Duns spent most of his years in the best institutes of the Franciscan Order, because he lived from about 1280 until his early death in the Franciscan studia of Oxford, Paris, Cambridge and Cologne. Moreover, he taught in all the theological faculties of the thirteenth century, because only the universities of Paris, Oxford and Cambridge had theological faculties. The best spiritual and intellectual traditions united in his life. 1.3

Oxford

Church and faith, mendicancy and theology were John Duns’ manger. He followed Christ in the footsteps of il poverello Francis of Assisi. The Franciscan movement reached England in 1224 and in the same year 1224 a new province 9 10 11 12

On Henry of Ghent, see Wielockx, ‘Henry of Ghent,’ in Gracia and Noone (eds.), A Companion to Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 296-304. See Etzkorn, ‘John Pecham,’ in Gracia and Noone (eds.), A Compani­on to Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 384-7. See Courtenay, Parisian Scholars, 21-2. Sheenan, ‘The religious orders 1220-1370,’ in Catto (ed.), The History of the University of Oxford I 209. Cf. Little, The Grey Friars in Oxford, chapter 4: ‘Books and libraries,’ Courtenay, Schools and Scholars, 48-51, and DS 17-19.

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was created for the British Isles. Within twenty years the Friars Minor settled at the two university towns, fifteen cathedral cities and twenty-five county towns.13 The Franciscan renewal was also welcomed by many families. An old chronicle tells that a first small band of Minors crossed the Scottish border in 1231. They established a site in Berwick-on-Tweed before founding a house in Roxburgh in 1233 and pressing on to Haddington and Dumfries within the next few years.14 The Franciscan movement also touched the gentry family of Duns in the South of Scotland, which supported the Franciscan movement on both the personal, practical and financial levels.15 John Duns was born in the North of the British Isles – in the South of Scotland. He lived in a village named Duns and was baptized John probably in the winter of 1266.16 He was called Scotus on the continent. In contrast to English evidence, John Duns is called Scotus by early continental evidence. The French list of Franciscan dissenters (June 1303), discovered by Longpré, proves this usage: Franciscans from England, Scotland and Ireland are distinctively mentioned on the list of the dissenting brothers. The evidence clearly distinguishes Scotland, England and Ireland.17 This John was a Duns of the Duns family of Berwick­shire. The village of Duns, in the heart of Berwickshire, lies between two chains of mountains. It was an agricul­tural area. Father Duns was a gentleman from the landed gentry in a world which was a Scottish-Pictish and Anglo-Norman mixture. Generally, after some preparatory education at home or in a local school a young friar would attend the school of his friary. It was obligatory on all friars – a word derived from the way Englishmen pronounced the French frères) – except the illiterate to devote part of their time to reading and writing. The Minister General Elias had made the Scottish friaries an independent province, but on the fall of Elias in 1239 these friaries were allocated to the 13 14 15 16

17

On the history of the English Province, see Hutton, The Franci­scans in England 1224-1538. Cf. Little, The Grey Friars in Oxford (1892). On the early history of the Scottish Franciscans, see Bryce, The Scottish Grey Friars, 5-12. On the role of the bonds of the families, see Kuster, ‘Zukunft dank Seelsorge und Gelehrsamkeit,’ in Lackner (ed.), Zwischen Weisheit und Wissenschaft, 25-7. Cf. CF (1994) 3-9, DS 23-37 and Frank and Wolter, Duns Scotus. Metaphysician, 1-16. See Dumont’s excellent introductory account: ‘John Duns Scotus (c. 1266-1308),’ REP III (1998) 153-70, and Boulnois’s fine sketch in his Duns Scot, la rigueur de la charité, 7-14. Compare Balic, John Duns Scotus, 5-11: ‘Where was Duns Scotus born?,’ and 16-29: ‘Country, place and year of Duns Scotus’ birth.’ See DPhil 20-3. Consult also the improved edition of the Parisian list by Courtenay, ‘The Parisian Franciscan Community in 1303,’ FS 53 (1993) 170-1 (166-71).

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custody of Newcastle.18 Attempts to regain their independence in 1260 and 1278 failed. The natural thing to expect is that John Duns would have been sent to the school of the custody at Newcastle, but just at that period the Scottish Houses revolted against their inclusion in the custody of Newcastle. 1.3.1 The Early Years of John Duns The life of John Duns already enjoyed special features before the Parisian years. However, we do not know in which house he entered the Order, but, of course, it must have been in the South of Scotland. At what age may John Duns have entered the Order? A boy could have been accepted about fifteen years of age, the usual age being eighteen. However, rather late in his short life Scotus made a very interesting remark. In Ordinatio IV 25 he obser­ves: In the primitive church, boys were not immediately instructed in those things that pertain to the priestly office or the divine worship. Indeed one could well say that adults were insufficiently educated in such matters. But now boys are at once given instruction and engage in such matters, and therefore some already at thirteen years of age are even more adequately instructed in such actions than surely a simple person of twentyfive would have been then.19 Scotus’ confidence in the renewal process of his days shines out, but the remark­able thing is that the age of thirteen years old is not taken from regular prescriptions, rules or bulls which mention a lower limit of fourteen or fifteen years. So, my guess is that he draws from his personal, for himself precious memory, indirectly indicating the age when he moved into a minorite friary. He was born in 1266 and entered the Franciscan Order at a very early age, when he was thirteen. If this hypothesis cuts ice, John Duns went into a SouthScottish friary in 1279. There John Duns spent his novitiate year (1279-1280) and he had studied there for one year at a primary school level (1280-1281). Apparently, by then 18 19

Elias of Cortona (around 1180 near Assisi – 22 April 1253 Corto­na): minister general 12321239. See Moorman, A History of the Franciscan Order, 85-104. Ordinatio IV 25.73 (quaestio 2): ‘Ita hic in primitiva Ecclesia pueri non erant statim instructi in his, quae pertinent ad cultum vel officium divinum, et imo bene adulti erant in talibus satis rudes. Nunc autem pueri statim in talibus erudiuntur et exercentur. Et ideo sufficien­tius instructus est aliquis modo tredecim annorum in talibus actibus quam tunc forte erat rusticus vigintiquinque annorum.’ See also Frank and Wolter (eds.), Duns Scotus. Metaphysician, 2 and 12, note 4.

8

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John Duns must have mastered what this school had to offer to him. In Oxford John Duns started to study theology in 1289. So, he mus have started his philosophical studies in 1281, for they took 8 years. For this reason, John Duns must have left Scotland in 1281 and he must have arrived at Oxford in the same year – in the Indian summer of 1281. These summer holydays were the last holydays he spent at the parental home, but who accompanied John to Oxford? The old sources are silent about a Franciscan uncle Elias. He might have had an uncle and he might have had a Franciscan uncle, but we do not know. The only thing we know, is that he had a mother and a father. The years 1278 and 1279 were not simple years for the Scottish brothers. They were certainly not prepared to send their star pupil to the custodial school at Newcastle. The minimum age of entering the university was twelve. Thus, in 1281 John Duns walked straight-forwardly to Oxford. By then, the Scottish houses belonged to the custody of Newcastle, but the Scottish ‘brothers’ did not take John to Newcastle. In addition to the Order’s studia generalia, there were the preparatory schools of the custodies. The English Province was by then divided into seven custodies: London, York, Norwich, Newcastle, Stamford, Coventry and Exeter. Here, we observe another remarkable feature of John’s early life. The Franciscan education system was threefold: the three levels were the primary school level of a local friary, the level of the custody school – a Franciscan province was divided into custodies –, and, thirdly, the academicc level: in this case the study house in Oxford. This system is still to be compared with what we are familiar with: the primary school, the high school (Dutch: ‘the middle school’), and the academic level of the university. Thus, the Scottish brothers took John Duns to Oxford, where he studied philosophy for eight years (1281-1289). Around 1280 the young John Duns must have arrived at Oxford at the time when the Scottish Houses enjoyed a relative independence. It was a period of tensions between the brothers in the North and this tension made it improbable that the young John was sent to the custodial school at Newcastle. It seems a reasonable guess that the brilliant boy was sent at this early age to Oxford, although it was exceptional that a young friar was sent to Oxford at such an early age. There he remained as a theological student at the Franciscan studium until 1301. After the first half of the 1290s he also became a degree student at the Universi­ty. The important orders of the poverty movement had stipulated that their students of theology were dispensed from the regular program of philosophy in the facultas artium. The two student orders built up their own academic system. The philosophical courses were attended in the studium of the relevant province of the order to which the student belonged. For John Duns this center of higher learning was the Oxonian studium.

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Duns was educated at Oxford in every sense of the precious word educated. He was every inch an Oxford man. His daily life revolved around the liturgy and the scholarly routine, the spirituality and the sphere of debate and a life of study and prayer in a Franciscan community. This was a radical type of Christian life, determi­ned to preserve and to foster the purity of the Franciscan Rule.20 Spiritual simplicity, [...], a spirit of prayer, of frankness, of poverty and of fidelity to the Rule did not go so early, and, for some fifty years at least there were among the Friars Minor in England many examples of unusual fervour and sanctity.21 For two decades, John Duns studied theology and philosophy at Oxford. At the end of the thirteenth century, studying theology at Oxford was a massive endeavor. The theological faculty of Oxford University as well as the Parisian theological faculty were the absolute peaks of the new university system. The course of study was the longest and hardest of all academic trajects. Moreover, Duns launched this work in a formidable personal sphere, because during the 1280s and 1290s the mendicant orders had taken the lead in theological and philosophical development, for theology required a thorough grounding in logic, semantics and philosophy. As Courtenay has noted, ‘in practice, this meant that one would enter the theological faculty as a student at around age twenty-one, rarely younger.’22 For all students – both the secular and the regular scholares – four years of study and attendance at lectures on the Bible and the Sentences of Peter Lombard were required. In the fifth year one was permitted to ‘oppose’ in debates (that is, take the position of the opponent), 20

21

22

See Séamus Mulholland, ‘The Shaping of Mind: The Thirteenth Century Franciscan Oxfordian Intellectual Inheritance of Duns Scotus,’ in Mary Beth Ingham and Oleg Bychkov (eds.), John Duns Scotus. Philosopher. Proceedings of ‘The Quadruple Congress’ on John Duns Scotus I, Munster 2010, 119-27. Cf. Timothy B. Noone, ‘Duns Scotus and the Franciscan Educational Model,’ in Ingham and Bychkov (eds.), op. cit., 129-38. Knowles, The Religious Orders in England I 137 (114-45). See Leclercq et al., The Spirituality of the Middle Ages, 283-314, and the excellent studies by Van den Goorbergh and Zweerman, Light shining through a veil, and Yours Respectfully. Signed and Sealed: Saint Francis. Duns joined the community of this studium numbering about 75 scholars, but in Paris he would live in a much larger house, for the Parisian studium was twice as large as the Oxonian one. Courtenay, Schools and Scholars, 41.

10

Chapter 1

and in the seventh year ‘respond’ (that is, take the position of the respondent). Having completed seven years of study, the candidate could be admitted to ‘read’ (that is, lecture on) the Sentences, which made him a bachelor of theology.23 A senior student of theology could teach logic and philosophy, because he had already studied arts and philosophy before beginning with theology. Although the theological students of the mendicant orders were granted dispensations from doing philosophy in the faculty of arts, they had to study philosophy thoroughly within their own studium. During the first half of the 1290s John Duns produced a long series of logical writings per modum quaestionis which did not avoid consideration of profound methodological and philosophical problems. His logical Quaestiones occasio­ned by the logical writings of Aristotle and Porphyry contain thorough and detailed logical investigations which offer a fascinating view of the front line in contemporary logic and conceptual analysis. Although many logical and philosophical works in the old editions turned out not to be authentic, these logical writings survived modern textual criticism and are authentic logical writings of John Duns: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

 Quaestiones super librum Porphyrii Isagoge;  Quaestiones super Praedicamenta Aristotelis;  Quaestiones in primum librum Perihermenias Aristotelis;  Quaestiones in duos libros Perihermenias Aristotelis;  Quaestiones super librum Elenchorum Aristotelis.24

It is noticeable that in some cases we have more than one work on the Senten­ tiae, but Duns’ case is in two respects unique: both with respect to his relationship to the corpus aristotelicum, the basic œuvre of philosophical teaching at the university, and with respect to the Sententiae, the theological classic of university teaching. A general characteristic of systematic authors during the medieval centuries of the university was to focus on the corpus aristotelicum and on the Sententiae, and John Duns’ productions follow this

23 24

Courtenay, Schools and Scholars, 41-2. The regular students had to compensate for one more year. See Opera Omnia I 153*-154* and DPhil §§ 3.6.2-3.6.6. See also Stephen F. Brown, ‘Reflections on Franciscan Sources for Duns Scotus’s Philosophical Commentaries,’ in Mary Beth Ingham and Oleg Bychkov (eds.), John Duns Scotus. Philosopher. Proceedings of ‘The Quadruple Congress’ on John Duns Scotus I, Munster 2010, 1-11.

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characteristic emphasis. His œuvre focuses both on works on Aristotle and on works on the Sentences in quite a remarkable number of substantial works.25 Duns embodies the tension between medieval theological and philosophical teaching. Within the context of his theological and philosophical studies, he starts with Aristotle and takes him utterly seriously. In reconstructing systematic theology, he continues to concentrate on eliciting philosophical answers from faith and theology. His personal movement from logical and philosophical questions through to theologi­cal and philosophical answers is quite exceptional. The upshot is exceptional too. It was Duns Scotus who, standing amidst the collision of fides and intellectus, contribu­ted most to a new articulation of Christian thought, realizing that this was his calling. He created a new articulation of the whole of Christian thought The study of the history of medieval philosophy which commenced in the nineteenth century by banning Scotus from the realm of rationality and philosophy can only be assessed to have had a false start.26 Having been selected to become a bachelor of divinity at Oxford, John Duns delivered a masterly course on systematic theology, which would change his life and would interrupt his Oxonian and English career when he was sent to Paris. A bachelor was a kind of assistant professor and taught a substantial part of the theological curriculum. We know that Duns enjoyed baccalaureus tasks in 1300. We have to remind ourselves that the degree students were exceptional figures, and especially the degree students of Franciscan masters, because there were huge numbers of non-degree theological students in the numerous schools from whom the degree students were chosen. After his long first stage of studying theology, Duns had to go on for one more year, because he had to cope with a longer program, as all the friar students in theology were obliged to do in Oxford. There is also an Oxford nicety, when one had to embark on the substantial course on the Sentences: during that stage of the last four years of Oxonian theological studies, a bachelor of divinity devoted his first year to preparing the advanced course he had to deliver as baccalaureus sententiarius during the next year. So Duns had two years between his academic program during the first half of the 1290s and his Sententiae course during which he would read the Lectura. However, there is 25

26

See DPhil chapters 14 and 15. Consult also Stephen Brown, ‘Reflections on Franciscan Sources for Duns Scotus’ Philosophical Commentaries,’ in Ingham and Bychkov (eds.), John Duns Scotus, Philosopher. Proceedings of ‘The Quadruple Congress’ on John Duns Scotus I. Archa verbi. Subsidia 3, 1-11. See DPhil §§ 15.1-15.3, and compare DPhil chapter 16.

12

Chapter 1

also a substantial philosophical distance between the Lectura and the early logical and philosophical writings. That was the space he needed to create a systematic revolution in philosophy and theology.27 The next task the bachelor had to cope with was lecturing on the Bible in his capacity of baccalaureus biblicus in the penultimate year of his baccalaureate. During the last year he had to execute some baccalaureus formatus tasks, like supervising disputation exercises and assisting his own professor of theology in ordinary disputati­ons, while he also had to participate in disputations and ceremonies of colleagues of his professor. According to this scheme we get the following picture: 1296-97 1297-98 1298-99 1299-1300 1300-01

the ‘fine’ year for mendicant students, preparing the course on the Sententiae, baccalaureus sententiarius delivering his sentential course, baccalaureus biblicus, baccalaureus tasks.28

1.3.2 Lectura I-II Lectura I-II is Duns’ fundamental achievement. Lectura I-II is the outcome of the academic years 1297-1299. The text of the Lectura itself shows that John Duns himself wrote the Lectura: It was his personal notebook.29 Thus, Lectura I-II can be established as authentic: it is not just an abbreviation of the Ordinatio. Lectura I 39 presents the systematic ramifications of a new type of contingen­cy: synchronic contingency. This concept of synchronic contingency is the most impor­tant logical-philosophical idea in Duns Scotus’ system. Synchronic contingency engenders the scientific revolution that classic theology needed in order to become successful as a consistent theology and as a consistent philosophy. This enterprise took place in the course of the years 1297 and 1298. In the logical works, the theory of synchronic contingency is 27 28

29

See DPhil chapters 1, 4, 14 and 16. Brampton efficiently researched the pattern of Oxford’s study of theology for the first time and he revolutionized the picture of Duns’ studies at Oxford. See his ‘Duns Scotus at Oxford, 1288-1301,’ FS 24 (1964) 5-20. He was immediately followed by Wolter, but not by Balic. Cf. Wolter, ‘Duns Scotus at Oxford,’ in Sileo (ed.), Via Scoti I 182-92, and Courtenay, ‘Scotus at Paris,’ in Sileo (ed.), Via Scoti I 149-63. See Lectura I 26.42: ‘Tertia opinio est Petri Ioannis, quam dimisi scribere propter causam certam.’ Peter, the son of John, is Peter Olivi. For the roof of this thesis, see DPhil 43-4 and 134. Duns does not discuss Olivi’s contribution and skips it altogether in Ordinatio I 26: see § 2.6.

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13

conspicuous by its absence, whereas during the second half of the 1290s this very idea will bloom into a fully elaborated theory and become the conceptual nucleus of the whole of Duns Scotus’ mature thought.30 The heart of the theory of synchronic contingency is that our factual reality could have been different from what it in fact is, and different things often ought to have been done. God’s real activity is the focus. He acts contingently, since he is essentially free. His world is created reality. Patristic theology had already overcome ancient necessitarianism. It had already replaced philosophical cosmology by a creation based theology. The world turns, but the world could have turned otherwise. Things are now factually so, but it is possible at the same moment that they are not so. Likewise, people are essentially free too. They could have acted differently and they often should have acted otherwise. The Gospel pressed for a new way of feeling, thinking and willing for centuries and centuries. In the theories of Lectura I-II we find the final philosophical expression of what was required by a fully consistent Gospelbased world view.31 Duns acted as a baccalaureus biblicus (1299-1300) and was responsible for some baccalaureus tasks in the academic year 1300-1301. In the course of these years he took a momentous decision which would influence his life for all the remaining years until his untimely death in 1308: John Duns decided not to undertake a simple revision of his Lectura, but to write a new Sententiae Book which turned out to become very large and ambitious. The biblical part of the Prologue points at a terminus a quo and Prologue 112 delivers a terminus ad quem. Prologue part 2 of Ordinatio I is missing in the Prologue of Lectura I. It concerns biblical material which presupposes the biblical baccalaureate year 1299-1300. So it has to be placed after the teaching of this year. Ordinatio Prologus 95-123 – the second part of the Prologue – contains a new quaestio dealing with the importance of Holy Scripture. The hypothesis that Duns made this decision in the course of 1300 is based on the remarkable and unique information to be found in Ordinatio Prologus 112:

30 31

See DPhil §§ 1.4-1.6 and § 7.3. Cf. also DPhil chapters 15 and 16. See CF 15-37 and DPhil § 1.4 and § 1.6. Cf. Vos, ‘Individua­lität, Offenbarung und philosophia christiana,’ in Schneider (ed.), Wie beeinflusst die ­Chris­tusoffenbarung das fran­ziskanische Verstä­ndnis der Person?, 55-75, and idem, ‘Duns Speaks for Himself with the Help of a Comma,’ in Ingham and Bychkov (eds.), John Duns Scotus, Philosopher. Proceedings of ‘The Quadruple Congress’ on John Duns Scotus I. Archa verbi, 234-54.

14

Chapter 1

The movement of Muhammad will be finished soon, because it has been weakened very much in A.D. 1300.32 We listen to Wolter’s comment: The remark [...] seems an allusion to [...] the news of the defeat of the Egyptians at the battle of Medjamâa-el-Morduj that awoke such unwarranted optimism in June but was gone before the end of the year [1300].33 In 1300 Western Europe expected the end of the Islam. This expectation had been inspired by the effects of the battle of Hims in Syria on 23 December 1299, 1299-1300 being Duns’ biblical year, but the euphoria was short lived. In the summer of 1300 Duns must have arrived at the end of the second part of his new Prologue. The third part is a lengthy treatment of the issue of the object of theology. It has to be concluded that John Duns had made his far-reaching decision to compose a new Sententiae-Book by the end of the spring of 1300. Duns’ first great theological course (1298-99) had been a sensation. We see the flowering of a new way of doing systematics: With Scotus the Oxford school of theology reached its zenith, for the first time it was the equal of Paris as a center of original thought. He was the first of the Oxford masters strongly to influence thought in the older university, and the critical, independent spirit of fourteenth-century Oxford begins with him.34 At the end of the 1290s the Franciscan leadership in England sought opportuni­ ties to recognize the contribution John Duns had made in the field of theology. It was now clear that he was not only a very smart researcher, but that he was also a first rate thinker. The moves needed to launch an alternative strategy must have been welcomed by the international leadership of the Order at Paris, because, according to the by-laws of the Franciscan Order, the appointment of the bachelors and, in particular, the baccalaureus responsalis and the new holder of the Franciscan chair at Paris University was under control of the 32 33 34

Ordinatio Prologus 112: ‘In brevi Domino volente [secta Mahometi] finietur, quia multum debilitata est anno Christi millesimo trecentesimo.’ Wolter, ‘God’s Knowledge: A Study in Scotistic Methodology,’ in Sileo (ed.), Via Scoti I 181-2. Catto, ‘Theology and Theologians 1220-1320,’ in Catto (ed.), The History of the University of Oxford I 505. Cf. DPhil § 1.7.

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Minister General.35 At any rate, the Minister Provincial Hugh of Hartlepool, the successor of Marston, was instrumental in setting out a new future for John Duns by recommending him to the Minister General who appointed Duns to study in Paris.36 When England sent a baccalaureus of thirty-five years of age by 1301, it is clear that the Minister General must have been involved in this decision, because he appointed the Parisian bachelors. It is at this point that we meet John Minio of Morrovalle (leader of the Order 1296-1302, Vicar General 13021304).37 In the spring of 1301, Iohannes Duns fitted in with the glorious plans the Order had for him ahead by sending him to the most prestigious university – Europe’s alma mater at Paris. 1.4

Paris I

The baccalaureus John Duns was committed to the ideals and expectations of his Order and the renewal program of the Church. At Oxford he had already been professor designatus. Now, after about twenty Oxonian years, he sailed for France. He would again be a teacher-student for years to come, going through a very tough program in the capital of Western learning. The years 1303-1308 would see a series of events no one could have dreamt of in 1301. The Franciscan leadership had made a momentous decision. John Duns went to the Franciscan friary at Paris. The case of Duns teaching at Paris is a rather unique one. Usually, a foreign Franciscan sententia­rius in Paris (= a sententiarius who does not originate from the Franciscan Province Francia), has not already read on the Sententiae at another university before he went to Paris. When Duns got his chance, he welcomed the sunshine of new efforts. The harvest would result in a pile of new works – works which would also remain unfinis­hed. Never­theless, they would change the trajectory of Western thought. When Duns crossed the Channel in the Indian summer of 1301, nobody would have guessed a funeral in November 1308. His life was short. Time battled with eternity.

35

36

37

See Denifle and Ehrle, Archiv für Litteratur- und Kirchengeschich­te des Mittelalters VI 107: ‘De fratribus lecturis sententias et ad magisterium praesentandis Parisius, minister provideat generalis.’ On Hugh of Hartlepool, see Little, ‘List of Provincial Ministers,’ Franciscan Papers, 194-5. Both Hugh and his predecessors William of Gainsborough and Roger Marston had been masters of theology. See Courtenay, ‘Scotus at Paris,’ in Sileo (ed.), Via Scoti I 153-4. Cf. DPhil § 2.2.2 and § 2.4.

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Chapter 1

John Duns, soon surnamed Scotus, must have felt impressed in the scholarly capital of Europe which was already impressive around 1200 and by then the largest city in Europe. I like to add the judgment of Cobban: ‘C. 1200 the nascent University of Paris had a population of between 2,500 and 5,000.’38 A century later the issue of Paris’ population is quite a different one: ‘Estimates of the Parisian population c. 1300 have been steadily moving upwards in recent years. The most conservative estimates now place the urban population at that time at 80,000, while “the highest – and according to the best modern research, the most accurate – is slightly over 200,000­”.’39 Such an estimate ‘has only been applied to Oxford and Cambridge, where those universities in the fourteenth century, including the mendicant houses of studies, are estimated to run between 1,500 and 1,700, and between 400 and 700, respectively.’40 I stick to a rather conservative assessment of about 100,000 Parisian inhabitants including over 5,000 students about 1300, while a population of no more than 20,000 persons inhabited Rome in the twelfth century – in sharp contrast to the half a million during her ancient prosperity.41 By 1218 the theological faculty of the University of Paris had twelve chairs and even about twenty-five chairs in the 1270s. After the ‘Great Dispersion’ (1229-31) the Friars Preachers held two chairs and the Friars Minor held one after 1236, because the chair of Alexander of Hales was retained for a Franciscan. The Franciscans owned a large site intra muros donated by the Abbey of SaintGermain-des-Prés. Eventually, the street of their convent was renamed Rue des Cordeliers, intersecting the Rue de Saint-Jacques at the Dominican Priory of Saint-Jacques. In the middle of the thirteenth century, some thirty to forty students lived in the smaller convents, the Friars Preachers holding position in between the smaller convents and the Franciscan friary. At the beginning of the fourteenth century, the Franciscan and Dominican convents housed about hundred and fifty scholars each and the Augustinian and Carmelite convents ranged between fifty and one hundred scholars.42 1300 had been the year when Duns started his ambitious project to compose a definitive Sententiae Book. It would occupy his heart and mind until his early death in 1308. He enjoyed the help of a socius in his first Parisian sentential 38 39 40 41

42

Cobban, The Medieval Universities, 79. Courtenay, Parisian Scholars, 20. Courtenay quotes Jordan, The Great Famine, 131. Courtenay, Parisian Scholars, 21-2. Compare Courtenay, Parisian Scholars, 26: ‘In addition to those who were “taxable,” there would have been 300-400 scholars resident in the tax-exempt convents of the four mendicant orders, producing a total university community in the early fourteenth century between 3,000 and 3,5000.’ On Rome, see Beloch, Bevölkerungsgeschichte Italiens II 1. See Courtenay, Parisian Scholars, 26.

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year, when he lectured about Books I and IV of the Sententiae as a baccalaureus sententiarius.43 Now there was no need to carry out the time consuming task of writing out his texts personally any more. In the Oxford studium bachelors had no socius. Two striking theses force themselves upon us: the largest part of Ordinatio I – in company with Ordinatio II 1-2 – and the basic text of Reportatio Parisiensis I belong to one and the same year.44 Duns spent the academic year 1301-1302 in Paris. His first Parisian stay covered the years 1301-1303. 1301, the year of leaving Oxford for Paris, was mainly the year of the collationes. The Parisian revision of the largest part of Ordinatio I took place in 1302. The suggestion that there is a gap between the teaching of Ordinatio I, as if it were an immature Oxonian writing, and Reportatio Pari­ siensis I is unfounded.45 In the autumn of 1302, Duns Scotus adopted a different strategy. The Oxonian part consists of massive extensions, witness the voluminous Prologue and the three first distinctions of Ordinatio I. With a few exceptions, the Parisian revision of Lectura I to be found in Ordinatio I 10-48 is less drastic and elaborate. In 1301 John Duns became acquainted with Gonsalvo of Spain, the future Minister General of the Franciscan Order (1304-1313) and the academic year 1302-1303 was a year when Gonsalvo was a regent master.46 The friendship between Gonsalvo and Duns turned out to be of decisive importance to the future course of Duns’ life and work, for Gonsalvo was a heartfelt admirer of his younger colleague. At Paris, Duns had to teach courses on the Sententiae for the second time and during the academic year 1302-1303 he read on Sententiae I and IV. Here, we meet another literary phenomenon: the reportatio – the lecture notes of a student or a secretary.47 If a reportatio has been checked and supervised by the teacher himself, it is called a reportatio examinata. We are in 43 44 45

46

47

See DPhil § 2.2.1; on Duns’ socius Thomas, see DPhil § 2.2.2. See DPhil § 1.7.2, §1.8 and §§ 22.1-2.2.2. This hypothesis implies that Lectura I-II is an immature Oxonian work. See Hoffmann, Creatura intellecta, 29 note 63: ‘A.B. Wolter nennt triftige Gründe für die Annahme, dass die Reportatio I A das späte Denken des Duns Scotus wiedergibt, wie es nur zum Teil in die als Ordinatio edierte Fassung des Oxforder Sentenzenkommentars eingegangen ist,’ refer­ring to Wolter, ‘Reflections,’ 49-52. Since the issue of Duns Scotus’ chronological development has to be posed, one has to start with the logical writings and Lectura I-II, not with speculative assumptions of a mature Scotus. See DPhil § 2.2. See Amorós, Gonsalvi Hispani Quaestiones disputatae, xiv-xxii. On Gonsalvo, see Traver, ‘Gonsalvo of Spain,’ in Gracia and Noone (eds.), A Companion to Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 281-2. On reportationes, see Courtenay, ‘Programs of Study and Genres of Scholastic Theological Production,’ in Hamesse (ed.), Manuels, programmes de cours, 338-41.

18

Chapter 1

possession of such a notebook of Duns’ Parisian course on Sententiae I. In contrast with Oxford, the Parisian baccalaureus sententiarius enjoyed the assistance of a socius and Duns’ first secretary was called Thomas. The achievement of writing the text of Reportatio Parisiensis I Examinata cannot be explained without the help of Duns’ Parisian socius Thomas: the assistant (socius) prepared a copy, tracked down quotations and filled in arguments.48 Reportatio Parisiensis I has to be dated in the autumn of 1302 and the beginning of the winter of 1302-03 and Duns taught on Book IV during the first half of 1303. Reportatio Parisiensis II has to be placed at the autumn of 1304. It also mirrors the lively debate going on among bachelors belonging to different chairs. Reportatio Parisiensis III 17 shows that by Lent of 1305 Alan of Tongeren and Giles of Loigny were the outgoing and incoming Franciscan masters, respectively.49 Moreover, nobody contests the order of Reportatio Parisiensis II and Reportatio Parisiensis III so that these books have to be the products of the courses of the academic year 1304-1305. All this forces us to conclude that Reportatio Parisiensis IV rests on the course belonging to the winter and the spring of 1303.50 1.4.1 The Outrage of Paris After 1296, problems beset the relationship between Boniface VIII and the French king Philip IV. Political and military events affected Duns’ life in the years to come. After the abortive Council in Rome in November 1302, the tensions between these opponents culminated into a vehement conflict. King Philip IV the Fair rallied national opinion during the spring of 1303: On June 24, 1303, a great anti-papal demonstration occurred. Mendicant friars marched through the streets of Paris. Berthold of St. Denis, Bishop of Orléans and ex-chancelor of the university, together with two Fran­ ciscans and two Dominicans addressed the demonstrators. The next day royal commissioners examined each member of the Franciscan friary to determine whose side he was on. Some seventy friars, mostly French, favored Philip whereas the rest (over eighty) sided with the Pope.51

48 49 50 51

On the functions of a socius, see Courtenay, ‘Programs of Study and Genres,’ in Hamesse (ed.), Manuels, programmes de cours, 342 ff. See DPhil §§ 2.4-2.6. Cf. DPhil §§ 1.5-1.6. See DPhil § 2.2 and Vos, ‘Duns Scotus at Paris,’ in Boulnois, Sondag et al. (eds.), Duns Scot à Paris, 3-19. Wolter, in Alluntis and Wolter (eds.), God and Creatures, xxi.

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19

At the end of June 1303, the king commanded the theologians who disagreed with his policy to leave the country within three days (25-28 June 1303). Afterwards, the king even arranged a violent attack on the person of the Pope: the outrage of Anagni. In Paris, Scotus was among the dissenters. We meet four Franciscan theological ma­sters: Gonsalvo of Spain, accompanied by his socius, Alan of Tongeren and John of Tongeren, accompanied by their bachelors Giles of Loigny and Martin of Abbeville, and James of Quesnoy.52 We also meet Gonsalvo’s favorite, the sentential bachelor Duns Scotus, accompanied by his socius Thomas. Gonsalvo of Spain was the regent master during the academic year 1302-1303, but in June 1303 Alan of Tongeren was already the holder of the Franciscan chair. The fact that Alan of Tongeren is called magister indicates his role at that time. Gonsalvo and Duns Scotus, Alexander of Alessandria and Albert of Metz are on the list of the non-adherents,53 but Alan of Tongeren and John of Tongeren, Giles of Loigny and Martin of Abbeville are on the list of the adherents. Giles of Loigny and Duns must have been the sententiarii of the academic year 130203. Alexander is Alexander Bon(n)ino of Alessandria from the Province of Genoa. Cardinal Gentile licensed him to be a master of theology in Rome on 23 November 1303 – he would become the successor of Scotus in the summer of 1307. Both facts imply that he must already have acted as a bachelor before June 1303. 1.5

Oxford and Cambridge

1.5.1 Again in Oxford The reasonable assumption is that John Duns returned to his mother friary in Oxford during the early summer of 1303, where he had to cope with the pressing dilemma of his exile. In general, Franciscans in trouble returned to their mother house of studies and now the leadership of the English Province had to face the unexpected challenge to solve this dilemma. Duns himself decided to focus on the only lacuna in his great works on the Sentences remaining by the autumn of 1303: Sententiae III. One of the challenges of Scotist scholarship is having to account for the enigmatic fact that some manuscripts have a second

52 53

On James of Quesnoy, see Glorieux, Répertoire des Maîtres II 135, and Courtenay, ‘The Parisian Franciscan Community in 1303,’ FS 53 (1993) 172-3, note 45. See Courtenay, ‘The Parisian Franciscan Community in 1303,’ FS 53 (1993) 172: ‘Alexandrinus,’ and 173: ‘Albertus de Meti.’

20

Chapter 1

Sententiae III text which differs both from Reportatio Parisiensis III and from Ordinatio III. When and where has this second Sententiae III text to be placed? The literary device of this text showing the baccalaureate usage of quaeritur connects it with the baccalaureate years. Of course, Cologne has to be abandoned as a hypothesis, because Scotus did not work as a bachelor in Cologne. So, the course must have been delivered before 1306. The Cambridge episode can also be excluded, for there is not the slightest connection between Cambridge and the Sententiae III text. The only remaining candidates are Paris and Oxford. However, there is also an item of information found in what we call Lectura III 5.14: I have said so and so in Paris.54 Therefore, Duns Scotus must have said this, while he was not in Paris: he must have been in Oxford. However, there is still more evidence that John Duns stayed at Oxford during the second half of 1303. The Dominican theologian Nicholas Trivet must have conducted his second quodlibet during the Advent of 1303. One of the issues to be discussed concerned the univocity of the concept of being (ens). The manuscript mentions the contribution of an opponent.55 The position of the anony­mous opponens runs as follows: In this way it is clear that the subject includes the predicate. Otherwise, the intellect is certain and in doubt about the same thing, but the intellect knowing God is certain that God is being (ens).56 Barnabas Hechich, the penultimate president of the Commissio Scotistica, during the years, identified the opponent with Duns Scotus who takes this stance in Lectura I 3 and in Ordinatio I 3. This hypothesis is an acceptable one. So, if Duns has attended a quodlibet disputation in Oxford during Advent 1303 – the appropriate period for a quodlibet –, he must have lived at the Oxford studium at that time. An impressive detail is linked with the place of his opposition: it

54 55 56

Lectura III 5.14: ‘Dixi Parisius.’ See DPhil § 2.3.1 and § 3.6.12. Nicholas Trivet, Quodlibet II quaestio 1 (Codex Basileae univers. B IV 4, f. 1r). See Hechich, De immaculata conceptione Beatae Mariae Virginis secundum Thomam de Sutton O.P. et Robertum de Cowton O.F.M., 22: ‘Ita patet quia subjectum includit praedicatum, ut dicit opponens: alias intellectus de eodem certus et dubius, sed intellectus intelligens Deum, certus est quod est ens et est dubius utrum sit ens creatum vel increatum, finitum vel infinitum.’ Cf. Opera Omnia XXI (2004) 9*, and also note 30.

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21

concerns the first question. When the floor was open, Duns was invited to speak first. 1.5.2 Comfort in Disaster There is a moving testimony to be listened to. At the peak of his personal disaster, Duns’ spirituality comes in and the way it comes in is unique in the whole of Duns Scotus’ writings. His theological foundations have their own existential color. In Duns’ expositions on hope, love and faith he indirectly sketches his own spiritual profile. The argument regularly passes on to the personal I and is supported by his own longing and intense expectation in order to reach out to Him who is absolutely good and infinitely communicative. When Duns Scotus writes on hope, love and faith, he expresses his personal faith. What is better touches us more deeply and the best possible­ touch­es us most deeply. The summum bonum or bonum infinitum deepens our desire for what is infinitely good. Hope is that desire, full of expectation, which is immediately directed towards God for himself. God gives himself. Duns tells us: I long for him, I do not long for him because of something else, but because of himself. ‘I desire that this good which is himself is mine.’57 He is my objective and ‘I do not give up the act of desiring him.’58 It mirrors the Augustinian sphere of Cor nostrum est inquietum, donec requiescat in Te. It is stable, dynamic and personal. We are also longing that he is ours. He has to be our God.59 John Duns’ remarkable text on Sententiae III – a complete set of expositions, in contradistinction to the Parisian series of lectures, contained in Reportatio Parisiensis III, and also different from Ordinatio III – has to find a place in Duns’ biography. Oxford and 1303-04 yield the only possibility.60 In the first half of Lectura III John Duns deals with Christological themes for the first time in 57

58

59 60

Lectura III 26.66: ‘Si autem voluntas non esset libera, nihil amaret nisi sibi. Ideo, caritas non est principium elicitivum formaliter nisi actus amicitiae. Spes respicit bonum ut commodum speranti. Non enim spero Deum esse bonum in se, sed esse bonum mihi, et secundum istas duas affectiones sunt duo actus isti.’ Lectura III 26.48-49: ‘Et [sc. spes] est theologica, quia habet Deum pro obiecto immediato, quia per hunc actum desidero bonum infinitum. [49] Nec per aliquid additum distrahitur quin sit obiectum illius actus: licet enim desidero istud bonum esse meum, adhuc bonum infinitum est obiectum, quia non recedo ab actu desiderandi ipsum.’ Cf. Philippe Delhaye, ‘Léspérance selon Duns Scot,’ Regnum hominis et Regnum Dei, Rome 1978, 109-12. Opera Omnia XX. Lectura Oxoniensis III 1-17 and Opera Omnia XXI. Lectura Oxoniensis III 18-40 appeared in Rome at the end of 2003 and at the beginning of 2004, respectively, containing the Christology and ethics of Duns Scotus. Lectura III 1-22 is basic to the Christology chapter of this book.

22

Chapter 1

his career, in the second half his ethics is to be found. Lectura III is a mature continuation of Lectura I-II and was writtten in Oxford during the second half of 1303 when John Duns spent the first half of his year in exile in his Oxonian Studium. This Sententiae III Book has to be labeled Lectura III – the Commissio Scotistica did the same when it published the critical edition –, or Lectura Oxo­ niensis III. From a literary viewpoint, Lectura III 19-25 is its most remarkable part. Although Lectura I-III disappeared for centuries, some parts of Lectura III survived in other surroun­dings. Much of Lectura III 26-33 lived on in Reportatio Parisiensis III where originally the second part of Sententiae III was missing. The career of Lectura III 19-25 is even more fascinating. These chapters were locked through into Ordinatio III without modification.61 It is not only on the same material, but hardly any correction can have taken place. The old Codex C of the Ordinatio, dating from the first quarter of the fourteenth century, contains the first and the third books.62 A distinctive difference between the Ordinatio and the Lectura is that the Ordinatio questions begin with quaero and the Lectura questions with quaeritur. However, in Codex C, Ordinatio III 25 begins with quaeritur and Ordinatio III 26 again with quaero. Even the introduc­ tory formula was not updated. In sum, in contrast to Ordinatio IV, based on Reportatio Parisiensis IV, Ordinatio III is based on Lectura Oxoniensis III, just as Ordinatio I-II are based on Lectura I-II. 1.5.3 Cambridge The English Province had to face the case of John Duns. Where could he go? By any means, everyone was eager to see him as a professor of theology. Oxford was over, because the successors had their own rights. Paris had been blocked and there were only three university faculties of theology. The only possibility left was Cambridge. Therefore, the natural answer to the question where Duns had to go, seems to be: to the Franciscan Studium at Cambridge.63 The University of Paris had a near-monopoly of conferring the degree of magister in theology on the continent in the thirteenth century. It is a remarkable fact that two English universities also enjoyed this rare privilege. In addition to the 61 62

63

For the quintessense of this discovery, see DS (1994) 57. On Codex C – Codex A 13 of the Library of the Cathedral of Canterbury –, see Opera Omnia I 30*-31*; on its third book, see Opera Omnia I 31*. Book III abruptly ends in distinctio 26 and there is a lacuna with respect to the distinctions 19-24. On Lectura III 19-25, interpolated into Ordinatio III, see DS 56-7. On Duns’ stay in Cambridge, see DPhil § 2.3.2. Consult also Moorman, The Grey Friars in Cambridge, 35ff., and Roest, History of Franciscan Education, 62-4.

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University of Oxford, having a famous faculty of divinity, there already existed a Faculty of Theology at the University of Cambridge in the middle of the thirteenth century. The Franciscans had been quite instrumental in this achievement.64 At the beginning of the fourteenth century, the University of Cambrid­ge is estimated to have run between 400 and 700 students, evidently smaller than Oxford and much smaller than Paris.65 Is it possible to bring forward evidence, in addition to the Harcley connection, in favor of the hypothesis that at the beginning of 1304 Duns left Oxford for Cambridge? First, we pay attention to Ordinatio I 4 which runs as follows: Another question concerns ‘(an)other.’ It is found in the Cantabrigian quaestio. [...]. There is still another question, which is a well-known one, whether ‘God generates God,’ and that Cantabrigian quaestio can be an article of it. We have to conclude that there is a Cantabrigian commentary on Sententiae I, for Duns himself refers to a Cantabrigian question. Moreover, a temporary stay at Cambridge can be derived from an interesting note appended to Ordinatio II 1.277. At the end of it, Duns adds an objection to his own position in an inserted note, referring to Richardus Sloley. Richard of Sloley O.F.M. worked during the first decades of the fourteenth century at Cambridge, where he also became master of theology – the thirty-eighth master. The teaching of Richard is exclusively linked with Cambridge. So, this reference can only be explained by assuming that Duns became familiar with ideas of Sloley at Cambridge where Sloley must just have taught on the Sentences. This is also in line with Duns’ eagerness to discuss issues with bachelors colleagues.66

64

65 66

On Cambridge University, see Courtenay, Schools and Scholars, 51-5. On the Cambridge Franciscan studium, see Courtenay, Schools and Scho­lars, 66-9 and 109-10, and Roest, A History of Franciscan Education, 24-7. For a map of Cambridge, c. 1340, see Courtenay, Schools and Scholars, 53. See Courtenay, Parisian Scholars, 21-2. See Little, ‘The Friars and the Foundation of the Faculty of Theology in the University of Cambridge,’ Franciscan Papers, 133 and 139. On Richard de Sloley, see also Moorman, The Grey Friars in Cambridge, 144: ‘Richard de Slolee 1318-1319’ (appendix A: the list of the Cambridge lectores, taken from Little (ed.), Thomas Eccleston. De Adventu Fratrum Minorum in Angliam, 73).

24 1.6

Chapter 1

Paris II and Cologne

1.6.1 Paris II Many problems had to be solved by the next General Chapter. There was not only the Parisian turmoil, but the Order had already been without a general minister for two years, because John Minio of Morrovalle had been created a cardinal in 1302 after having been the Minister General since 1296.67 By the spring of 1304, he had already acted as a cardinal and as Vicar General of the Order for almost two years.68 The General Chapter held at Whitsun 17 May 1304 had to offer definite solutions and had also to elect a new Minister General. The President of this Assisi General Chapter was John Minio. At this General Chapter of Pentecost 1304, Gonsalvo, who at the time was Minister Provincial of Castile (1303-1304), was then chosen to be the four­teenth successsor of Saint Francis.69 In the autumn of 1304, the new Minister General of the order recommended Joannes Scotus as the bachelor first to inaugurate as professor of theology after Giles of Loigny whereas in 1301 Duns had become acquainted with Gonsalvo of Spain. The recommendation of Scotus by this exceptional Minister General was exceptionally personal: By this appointment I assign to your love Father John Scotus, beloved in Christ. I am fully acquainted with his praiseworthy life, excelling knowledge and most subtle mind, as well as with his other remarkable qualities, partly through my long personal experience, and partly because his fame has spread everywhere.70 There is also another remarkable, short, and eloquent testimony, originating from John Duns’ mother studium at Oxford. When Adam of Wodeham discussed a theory put forward by John Duns, he added this personal impression:

67

68 69 70

For a list of the Ministers General, see Moorman, A History of the Franciscan Order, 589. In 1307 John Minio became cardinal protector of the Order, as the successor to Matthew Rossi who had acted as the cardinal protector for almost thirty years. See Amorós, Gonsalvi Hispani Quaestiones, xxxiii-xxxiv. For the Assisi meeting, see Amorós, Gonsalvi Hispani Quaestiones, xxix-xxx. The text of Gonsalvo’s letter was reprinted by Little, The Grey Friars in Oxford, 220. The source is: Denifle and Chatelain (eds.), Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis II 1, 117. For the Latin text, see DPhil 84 note 66.

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25

just as that man, who was lively and could really argue.71 The Franciscan leadership was eager to arrange an excellent representation in the theological faculty, both in quality, and in numbers. It is clear from the letter of Gonsalvo, a former Parisian professor of theology himself, that he cherished a particular interest in the course of events in the faculty. His interest in John the Scot shines forth. However, if the Lord Chancellor were prepared to accept two new Franciscan masters, Albert of Metz should also be nominated. Within the terms of this alternative, Gonsalvo also recommends Albert of Metz, but at that monent Albert of Metz was not in Paris. If he were to return in time and the Chancellor were to accept an additional professor, Albert of Metz should incept before Duns because of his age and, in that case, Duns Scotus had to incept under Albert of Metz.72 Involvement is blended with fairness. The expeditio of Giles of Loigny in November 1304 entails that he was not a master by then. After the chaos of 1303-1304, Giles of Loigny suddenly incepted in Lent 1305 and Duns Scotus interrupted his systematic course on Christology, for the manuscripts of Reportatio Parisiensis III break off after III 17. Scotus only became the baccalaureus responsalis at the occasion of Giles’s inception, for Duns Scotus’ com­menting on Sententiae III 17 immediately passes on to his responding on the same material in his quality as baccalaureus responsalis. The remarkable thing is that nobody less than the famous Godfrey of Fontaines was involved in Giles’s inception and Duns Scotus’ disputation during these solemn days. Godfrey of Fontaines had been out of Paris for some years. He must have returned to Paris in the winter of 1304, because he attended a meeting on 26 February 1304, connected with the Sorbonne. Several other secular masters were also present.73 Godfrey and his disciple John of Pouilly (Jean le Sage) had been standard targets of Gonsalvo’s teaching in 1302-03 when John of Pouilly was still magister regens, because they consistently attacked the independence and priority of the will and its freedom.74 71

72 73

74

Wood and Gál (eds.), Adam de Wodeham, Lectura secunda in librum primum Sententiarum III, distinction 10 §5 (153): ‘[...] ille homo, sicut vivax et rationalis.’ On Adam of Wodeham, see Wood, ‘Adam of Wodeham,’ in Gracia and Noone (eds.), A Companion to Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 77-85. On Albert of Metz, see Glorieux, Répertoire II 204. He was custos of Trèves in 1307. See Denifle-Chatelain, Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis II 1, n. 617. On Godfrey of Fontaines, cf. Wippel, ‘Godfrey of Fontaines,’ in Gracia and Noone (eds.), A Companion to Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 272-80. For the Quodlibet of John of Pouilly, see Glorieux (ed.), Jacques de Thérines. Quodlibets I et II. Jean le Sage. Quodlibet I.

26

Chapter 1

1305-1306 was the year of the regency of Giles of Loigny and Duns Scotus still had to fulfill the final requirements for the theological mastership implied in the office of being a baccalaureus formatus. So at the earliest in Lent 1306 Duns started as magister actu regens. His only Quodlibet cannot be reasonably linked up with Easter 1306. The list of the Franciscan magistri runs as follows: 1302-03 1303-05 1305-06 1306-07 1307-08

Gonsalvo of Galicia/Spain Alan of Tongeren Giles of Loigny John Duns Scotus Alexander of Alessandria

By Lent 1306, Duns was forty years of age and he finished his theological studies after having studied and taught at three universities for about twenty-five years (c. 1281-1306), and having read in three sentential courses. John Duns eventually became a doctor of divinity and was granted the chair for foreigners in theology as magister actu regens at Paris. Duns Scotus’ inception marked the beginning of a period of intense activity. Surrounded by a staff of a secretary – Duns’ socius – and some assistants, he lectured in theology, led disputations, taught logic and worked hard at elaborating on a comprehensive and definitive ‘commentary’ on the Sententiae. This elaborate revision is the so-called Ordinatio, a work meant to become a new map of the entire field of systematic theology and philosophy of religion. In 1306 Duns Scotus must have crossed swords with the Dominican master Godin on individuation against the thesis that matter is the principle of individuation.75 Duns also produced a monumental series of Quaestiones Quodlibetales – Advent 1306.76 The Cistercian master James of Thérines († 1321) also conducted his first quodlibetal disputation in the second or third week of this same Advent.77 There is a considerable overlap of themes in these two quod­ libeta. The Quodlibet of James of Thérines is one of the earliest testimonies of Duns Scotus’ influence spreading over the theological faculty of Paris. Duns’ quodlibet itself testifies to the fact that Duns was becoming a current of the 75

76

77

See Noone, ‘Scotus’s Critique of the Thomistic theory of Individu­ation and the Dating of the Quaestiones super libros Metaphysicorum VII q. 13,’ Via Scoti I 391-406. See also DPhil § 10.2 and § 11.2. Lent 1306 is incompatible with a simultaneous inception and Lent 1307 seems too late taken into consideration the vast amount of redrafting Duns had already invested in his Quaestiones Quodlibetales when he died. I opt for the second or third week of Advent 1306. See Glorieux (ed.), Jacques de Thérines. Quodlibets I et II. Jean le Sage. Quodlibet I, 11.

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day. The fact that the audience paid great attention to him, shows that the guiding interest was Duns Scotus’ personal approach. The scholars present had carefully prepared themselves in order to use the opportunity to the full and asked what was, in effect, new to them, but not to Duns Scotus. Scotus was new to them and they were very much interested in his teching. Duns’ Quodlibet constitutes a unique source of systematic information.78 The doctrinal continuity with the Lectura is decisive. The Quaestiones Quodlibetales are a Scotian monument, belonging to a genre, unique to Duns. Duns received much admiration and support. 1.6.1.1

A World Historical Debate? The Grand Disputation: Fact or Legend? There is the story about the triumphant disputation of Scotus about Mary’s immaculate conception, when Scotus would have defeated all his opponents and would have been honored as the doctor subtilis. It is a colorful story, but what is the status of this story: fact or legend? This disputation is ascribed to Scotus’ master period in Paris, and sometimes even to December 1306. The story is long and complicated, but I shall only tell a short one: I start with the large scale defence of the immaculate conception that appeard in 1507: Antonius de Cucharo, Elucidarius Virginis.79 Several fifteenth-century sources play an important role in this book. As far as the doctor subtilis is concerned, De Cucharo’s Elucidarius Virginis has mainly three sources. The first crucial text is: Sermo ‘Necdum abyssi erant,’ dating from about 1430 and written in Toulouse or its environment. The author must have been a Franciscan. This sermon influenced very much fifteenth-century thought about the immaculate conception.80 All other fifteenth-century communications about Scotus’ 78 79

80

One is struck by the fact that here we meet just the bottlenecks of the Lectura and the Ordinatio. Antonius Cucharus de Bonito, O.F.M. († 1510), from Naples, bishop of Acerno, Elucidarius Virginis, Naples 1507: to be found in De Alva, Monumenta antiqua seraphica pro Immaculata Conceptione Virginis Mariae, Louvain 1665, 535-993. See Aquilinus Emmen O.F.M., ‘Het getuigenis van Landulphus Caracciolo over Scotus’ dispuut ten gunste der Onbevlekte Ontvangenis,’ Doctor Subtilis. Vier studies over Johannes Duns Scotus, Collectanea Franciscana Neerlandica VII 1, ’s-Hertogenbosch 1946, 93-4 and 100-3. This survey dues everything to Emmen’s magnificent research. On Jacobus Antonius (Franciscan name: Aquilinus) Emmen, see EP I (1967) xxv. See Emmen, ‘Het getuigenis van Landulphus Caracciolo over Scotus,’ Collectanea Franciscana Neerlandica VII 1, 114-16 and 122-4, and idem, ‘Historia cuiusdam opusculi medioaevalis. Origo et influxus litterarius tractatus ‘Necdum erant abyssi’ de Immaculata Conceptione, olim S. Bernardino Sen. ascripti,’ Collectanea Franciscana XIV 1.

28

Chapter 1

Marian disputatio in Paris are dependent on Sermo ‘Necdum abyssi erant’ and, so, they must have been written after 1430. A second important source of Elucidarius Virginis is the Officium de Immaculata Conceptione of Bernardinus de Busti (1480).81 De Busti tells us that the Holy See ordered a disputation and that the Lord Jesus himself sent the minor Scotus, an extraordinary theologian, to Paris where he defeated all present theologians. De Cucharo accepted this version in his book. De Busti comments that afterwards Scotus returned to his monastery, full of joy. We also find this comment, that Sermo ‘Necdum abyssi erant’ does not have, in a work called Tractatus de Conceptione. This work – the so-called Tractatus de Conceptione of Landulphus Caracciolo O.F.M. († 1351) – is often quoted by De Cucharo in his Elucidarius Virginis. In the following centuries many works not only inform us about the Parisian disputation, but a century ago it was also defended that Caracciolo was probably an eye witness. According to F. Paolini this document enjoyed great importance for the process of Duns’ beatification (1905), although there were also critical voices.82 The problem is that this book cannot be found among the works of Caracciolo and nobody was able to discover the book at all. As far as the ‘quotations’ of De Cucharo are concerned, at any rate the Tractatus de Conceptione depends on Sermo ‘Necdum abyssi erant’ and it is also dependent on De Busti’s Officium de Immaculata Conceptione (1480). When the Tractatus de Conceptione has told the Paris story, it also mentions the Council of Basel and the Constitutio (1476) of Pope Sixtus IV (1471-1484)! However, many parts are immediately taken from the Sentences Commentary of the historical Caracciolo. It must be a Caracciolo reedition enriched with many phantasies. At any rate, the Tractatus de Conceptione does not have any value for establishing a grand debate about the Immaculate Conception in Paris in 1306 or 1307. When we ask: fact or legend?, we have to answer ‘Legend,’ in spite of what modern Scotist still may believe. It is a late-medieval legend, and a very late late-medieval legend. Moreover, the Parisian master of theology Jean de Pouilly, a Christian Aristotelian, writes in 1309 that the immaculate conception does not occur in

81

82

Bernardinus de Busti, Officium de Immaculata Conceptione, 1480, has been approved by Pope Sixtus IV. The edition is to be found in Acta Ordinis Fratrum Minorum 23 (1904). See Emmen, ‘Het getuigenis van Landulphus Caracciolo over Scotus’ dispuut,’ Collectanea Franciscana Neerlandica VII 1, 92 and 122-5. See Bihl.

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29

any book published by the University of Paris.83 Duns defended the possibility of the immaculate conception of Mary in his Oxford lectures in the autumn of 1303 (Lectura Oxoniensis III 3.1), but De Pouilly would certainly not have known that. There was neither a publication. It would also take years before the Opus Oxoniense was published and then it was not published by the University of Paris. However, again there is a paradoxical shadow. There had already been Duns Scotus’ exile during the year 1303-04 and he had to leave Paris again in 1307. Paris was still full of unrest. Theological creativity could easily be interpreted as heresy. 1.6.1.2 1304-1307 In 1304 Duns Scotus continued to lecture on the Sentences at Paris. During the winter of 1305 he treated christology after having taught the theology of creation during the autumn of 1304. Reportatio Parisiensis III suddenly ends with di­stinction 17. 1305-06 was the last year of a very long baccalaureate, and 130607 the year of the Quodlibet. In the second or third week of Advent 1306 he unfolded his ideas regarding the whole of theology for a broad theological audience. In 1307 a new type of plan matured. He embarked on reconstructing the philosophical theory of divine attributes in his masterly De primo principio. Duns Scotus’ appointments and tasks are to be summari­zed as follows: 1297-98 1298-99 1299-1300 1300-01 1301-02 1302-03 1303-04 1304-05 1305-06 1306-07 1307-08

83

preparatory year at Oxford baccalaureus sententiarius (Lectura Oxoniensis I-II) baccalaureus biblicus baccalaureus taks (Ordinatio I 1-10) preparatory year at Paris (Collationes Parisienses and Ordinatio I) baccalaureus sententiarius: Reportatio Parisiensis I and IV Lectura Oxoniensis III and Lectura Cantabrigiensis I baccalaureus sententiarius: Reportatio Parisiensis II and III baccalaureus formatus magister at Paris lector at Cologne

See his Quodlibet III quaestio 3.1, 2 and 4. For Jean’s Quodlibet, see Glorieux (ed.), Jacques de Thérines. Quodlibets I et II. Jean le Sage. Quodlibet I. Cf. § 1.4. On Duns’ Mariology, see § 3.7 (at the end).

30

Chapter 1

1.6.2 Cologne Alexander of Alessandria was Scotus’ successor in the Franciscan chair at the University of Paris. At any rate, Duns Scotus was not any longer in Paris in the autumn of 1307. Callebaut showed that Alexander was in the city on 25 October 1307 and he must have started his lectures in mid-September.84 Alexander had already become master of theology in the fall of 1303. Before accepting his new magisterial responsibilities he had to travel from Genoa to Paris. Alexander would have received the news of his appointment in late spring 1307. By then Duns must have left Paris, but for which city did he leave Paris? Duns Scotus left Paris for Cologne, and in 1308 Cologne would hold him. A new world of theological thought arose. His fellow friars worked with all their strength. Superiors and students were attached to him. His pupils were enthusiastic and in November 1308 there were grief and panic at Cologne and Oxford, in France and England. His genius had still the radiance of youth, there was also the admiration of a beloved tutor. Who was able to grasp fully what proved to be compelling in the lecture room? Nothing was finished and when he was buried in the Franciscan church near the Cathedral. Scotus was interred before the main altar. During the Second World War, Duns Scotus’ mortal remains in the Cathedral of Cologne were saved. In 1980 John Paul II visited his tomb and he characterized Duns Scotus as a spiritual tower of faith. The beatification of Duns Scotus was declared and confirmed by John Paul II during the liturgical celebration of the evening prayer of 20 March 1993 in the Saint Peter Church at Rome. Duns’ early death is wedded to a long term perspective of eternal richness. Thomas Merton sings his own song: Striking like lightning to the quick of the real world Scotus has mined all ranges to their deepest veins: But, where, oh, on what blazing mountain of theology And in what Sinai’s furnace Did God refine that gold? Language was far too puny for his great theology: But, oh! His thought strode through those words Bright as the conquering Christ Between the clouds His enemies: And in the clearing storm, and Sinai’s dying thunder Scotus comes out, and shakes his golden locks 84

See Callebaut, ‘La maîtrise du Bx. Jean Duns Scot en 1305,’ AFH 21 (1928) 215-17. Cf. Simonis, ‘De vita Ioannis Duns Scoti,’ Antonianum 3 (1928) 459.

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And sings like the African sun.85 1.7

Duns Scotus’ Biblical Theology

The enrichment medieval philosophical thought received from themes delivered by Christian doctrine has often been remarked upon. Anthropology changed, because one believed in incarnation and resurrection; a profound sense of sin and interiorized morality, including the notions of activity as well of attitude and intention, played an important role in this. Both the Decalogue, the Sermon on the Mount and narrative passages from the Bible had their impact. De Rijk’s crucial thesis states: Everything shows that in the Middle Ages data of faith were considered philo­sophically as additional information their pagan predecessors had not possessed. However, handling these data had to satisfy proper philosophical criteria: the goal of faith did never justify the philosophical means.86 Biblical influences constituted an enormous challenge. Many articles of faith, simply excluded by the canon of ancient philosophy, had to be taken seriously: the creation out of nothing (creatio ex nihilo) involved a different view on matter. The unity and simplicity of God over and against all kinds of polytheism, providence against fate, God’s agency against the philosophy of a necessary world and history, an eschatologi­cal plan of salvation against cyclic philosophies of history all needed to be worked through and incorporated. The role of intuitive theology, based on patristic thought, creates an uneasy relationship to philosophy. Usually, orthodoxy avoided the clash with philosophy, as we see in the history of Jewish and Islamic thought. Whatever a medieval thinker may have thought about the relationship between faith and philosophy, he looked upon faith and revelation as a source of truth. This view was cherished in a world which had only recently discovered the light of faith. This world was also a culture of reading and handwriting, a book and manuscript culture – a culture without the printing press and without computers. This culture was a culture of the written word; it was a handwritten world. 85 86

Merton, ‘Duns Scotus,’ from Figures for an Apocalypse (1947), in The Collected Poems of Thomas Merton, 164-5. De Rijk, La philosophie au moyen âge, 73.

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The written word par excellence was sacred Scripture (sacra Scriptura, sacra pagina). The book par excellence was the Book, the Bible, a complex collection of books (biblia).87 Learning to read and learning to write were democratized in a world of Church learning, in church schools in the broadest sense of the word.88 Theology was called sacra pagina – sacred page – in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, not theologia: the sacred pages were read, meditated upon and discussed.89 In the monasteries this process was frequently accompanied with prayer (oratio). Sacred doctrine (sacra doctrina) does not refer primarily to what we now call theology, but to the contents of Scripture itself, and these contents have to be expounded systematical­ly.90 Theology was seen as a union of the contents of revelation, and the text of Scripture and its systematic interpretation, but this interpretation is considered to be based on Scripture itself. In fact, even the new term ‘theologia’ still meant sacred scripture.91 The university master of divinity is primarily a theologian of Scripture. The master teaches Holy Writ, the baccalaureus sententiarum systematic theology by teaching the Sententiae of Peter Lombard per modum quaestionis.92 The Reformation would simply intensify an old tradition. Talk of what is new in the early modern period often betrays ignorance of what developed in the Middle Ages. Theologia is still not used in a specific way in the second half of the thirteenth century: Theology in the modern sense of the word is investigating the whole of Christian revelation with the help of rational means. This concept presupposes the distinction between the Bi­ble/revelation and its interpretation, respectively the systematization of doctrine. According to J. Rivière, the word ‘theology’ only gets this modern meaning in the course of the Middle Ages.93 87 88 89 90 91

92 93

See Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages. See Courtenay’s important Schools and Scholars. On pagina sacra, see Chenu, La théologie comme science au xiiie siècle, 21-4. On scriptura, see Den Bok, Communicating the Most High, 99-107. For Duns Scotus, neither theology nor philosophy are clearly demarcated disciplines. See Krop, De status van de theologie, 6-8. See Finkenzeller, Offenbarung und Theologie, chapter 3: ‘Die Heilige Schrift und die apostolische Tradition als die Quellen der Offenba­rung,’ especially 64-9. Cf. Chenu, La théologie comme science au xiiie siècle, 38, 53-5 (Bonaventure), and 77-80 and 83-5 (Thomas Aquinas). Chenu does not pay any attention to the great thinkers of the last quarter of the thirteenth century. Cf. Courtenay, ‘The Parisian Franciscan Community in 1303,’ FS 53 (1993) 157-8. Krop, De status van de theologie, 8. See Rivière, ‘Theologia,’ Revue des sciences religieuses 16 (1936) 47-57.

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33

However, something like this modern usage does not yet belong to the theological language of Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus. With Thomas of Aquino, theologia is not yet a current term and if it is used, it means the same as sacred doctrine (sacra doctrina). Ockham almost only uses ‘theologia’ and the term ‘sacra doctrina’ hardly ever occurs in his works. With Duns, we meet both ‘sacra doctrina’ and ‘theologia.’ If Duns uses ‘theologia,’ it often keeps the old meaning in the sense of scientia divina. Although Duns Scotus mainly uses doctrina in the two first quaestiones (namely of the Prologus of the Ordinatio) and theologia in the three last ones, there is no impor­tant difference in meaning between them.94 Krop adds another interesting observati­on: In this third quaestio of the Prologue, for instance, theologia is mainly used, but in § 178 we suddenly meet doctrina. In the first quaestio, however, doctrina is mainly used, but in § 54 theologia occurs unexpectedly. What matters in ‘theolo­gy,’ is knowledge not in so far as it is necessary for all believers (salvation does not depend on an intellectual achievement), but as it concerns knowledge of truths of faith which one has acquired by faith, and not the systematic reflection on the contents of what one believes.95 In this light we have to understand that with Albert the Great and Bonaventure, Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus, ‘theologia’ and ‘sacra scriptura’ have the same broad meaning.96 As far as Duns is concerned, it is not true that in the Ordinatio the term ‘doctrina’ disappears. ‘Theologia,’ ‘(sacra) doctrina’ and ‘doctrina supernaturali­ter inspirata/revelata,’ ‘sacra scriptura and ‘revelatio’ are used interchangeably.97 Theologia is related to the sphere of the sancti, just as philosophia is related to the non-Christian sphere of the Greek and Arabic thinkers.98 With Duns there is neither a real distinction between theologia and 94 95 96 97 98

Krop, De status van de theologie, 9. Krop, De status van de theologie, 9 note 36. The later local method of the Reformation in fact follows the same pattern: on depth, theology is still considered to be Scripture, but, of course, in an a-historical sense. See Körver, ‘H. Schrift en Theologie in de Proloog van Scotus’ Sentencen-commentaar,’ Studia Catholica 20 (1944) 21-37. See Chenu, ‘Les ‘Philosophes’ dans la philosophie chrétienne médiévale,’ Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques 26 (1957) 27-40. Cf. DPhil 512-15.

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revelatio.99 It is just the way of thought of a Christian auctoritas culture applied to theology as systematic undertaking, but still experienced as a unity. The historical revolution of the first half of the nineteenth century will place everything upon a different footing. Of course, what Duns Scotus is doing himself is doing theology in a critical and scientific way, but the point is that he and his contemporaries are not distinguishing sharply between the flow of biblical revelation and what they are doing themselves, although Duns started to distinguish sharply between the theories (opiniones) of others, including great predecessors, and his own contributions. The Prologue of the Lectura opens with the fundamental conflict between the theologians and the philosophers:100 There is the controversy between the theologians and the philosophers,101 for the philosophers deny that revelation is indispensable. Supernatural knowledge is impossible. The term supernaturalis is an early medieval inno­ vation, for the first time used by Scottus Eriugena. With Duns Scotus, supernaturalis does not indicate a certain part of reality behind or above our natural reality, but is means that something transcends the faculties which belong as such to something characterized by its own nature. In fact, when it is said that something is revealed supernaturally, one simply means that God is the agent of revelation.102 Part II of the Prologue (§§ 95-123) of Duns’ Ordinatio has no counterpart in the Prologue of the Lectura. In this piece of biblical theology, which originated from Duns’ baccalaureus biblicus year (1299-1300), it is argued that the Bible

99

100

101 102

See Krop, De status van de theologie, 7-9. Consult also Hofmeister Pich, Der Begriff der wissenschaftlichen Erkenntnis nach Johannes Duns Scotus, chapter 1: ‘Begriffliche Praenotanda.’ By theologians is not meant: Augustinians, nor by philosophers: the so-called Latin Averroists, as Wolter defended in his instructive ‘Duns Scotus on the Natural Desire for the Supernatural,’ in McCord Adams, The Philosophical Theology of Scotus, 125-8. Theologi are the Christian theologians in general, and the philosophi are Plato and Aristotle, Avicenna and Averroes, and their followers. See Huallacháin, ‘On recent studies of the opening question in Scotus’ Ordinatio,’ FS 15 (1955) 1-29. Lectura Prologus 5: ‘Sed controversia est inter theologos et philosophos.’ Cf. Ordinatio Prologus 1 and 5. For the meaning of pro statu viatoris, see Krop, De status van de theologie, 101. See Lectura Prologus 31-34. Consult also Ordinatio Prologus 57, cf. 58-59, and Krop, De status van de theologie, 133-5 and 135-7.

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suffices for believers.103 The Bible is not only relevant and indispensable, but also sufficient to give the truths necessary for salvation, but again and again we have to realize that the text of the Bible is the auctoritas par excellence in an auctoritates culture, reading and interpreting its basic texts per auctoritatem and proving their truths argumentatively (ratione).104 We do not need any additional foundation of faith and theology besides the Bible. No further revelation is necessary. Moreover, the mild Duns offers a rather strict view on the criticisms heretics, Jews and Muslims bestow on the Bible. He explicitly stresses the importance of the Old Testament.105 Holy Scripture is to be defended rationally and Duns’ eight points mainly derive from Augustine: 1. the predictions of the prophets; 2. the harmony of the Scriptures – theological intersubjectivity is sharply contra­sted with the diversity of philosophical opinions; 3. the reliability of the authors, which has also to do with their willingness to suffer; 4. the care and the precision of reception; 5. the rationality of belief and ethics; 6. the unreasonableness of the alternative views; 7. the continuity of the Church – it strikes the reader that Duns writing in 1300 expects a quick collapse of Islam;106 8. the evidence of miracles.107 These eight points (Prologus 101-117) have already been announced clearly in Prologus 100. Two special aspects are added to the basic list: the witnesses of non-believers (Prologus 118) and the efficiency of promises (Prologus 119).108

103

104 105 106 107 108

For translation and comments, see Krop, De status van de theolo­gie, 152-69. Krop’s instructive dissertation contains the translation of the whole of Duns’ Ordinatio Prologue. Such translations are ideal to familiarize oneself with Duns’ scholastic Latin. Cf. Sondag, Duns Scot. Prologue de la Lectura. See DPhil § 14.8 and § 15.6. Ordinatio Prologus 99. See Krop, De status van de theologie, 155. See § 1.3 on the defeat of an Islamic army near Hims (Syria, 23 December 1299). Ordinatio Prologus 100-17. See Krop, De status van de theologie, 155-66. Cf. Finkenzeller, Offenbarung und Theologie, 38-42. Krop, De status van de theologie, 166. Flavius Josephus does not occur in the Lectura Oxoniensis, whereas the Ordinatio counts fascinating references. For Abraham’s belief in the resurrection on the basis of Flavius Josephus’ Antiquitates judaicae I 22, see Ordinatio III 38 ad 1 (Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 494-5).

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Eventually we quote Duns’ dense formulation of what is safe and sound in Scripture: I say that doctrine passes on the special aspects of the destiny of man: seeing and enjoying God, as far as we can reach them in our circumstances, namely, that immortal man shall have endlessly both in body and soul after the resurrec­tion.109 In a theological auctoritates culture, Scripture and theology are intertwined in an unhibited way. For medieval theologians, biblical facts of salvation deliver an alternati­ve reality. The Bible challenges believing thinkers in order to think in alternative ways. This alternative way of thinking eventually creates a new type of theology, characteri­zed by a philosophical style which is new – philosophy in a new key. The biblical contents are not studied in historical and empirical ways; so, in general, the historical and empirical dimensions do not create the principal difficulties and dilemmas. We do not need a program of demythologization. Necessary theology (theologia necessaria) already accomplished clearly the crucial task of replacing mythological elements by systematic contents. However, this result does not entail that modern historical and sociological dimensions can be neglected. Nevertheless, not all difficulties stemming from Duns Scotus’ scientific theology can be solved smoothl­y. The absence of the historical dimension is mainly felt in the striking presence of the systematization of theology, namely in the axiomatization and structu­ring of theological ethics. The commandment Do not kill follows from his ethics, but the Bible blocks this conclusion in the stories where people of God kill and are even commanded to kill. Genesis 22, the Angstgegner of medieval theological ethics, tellls a different story. Monogamy and the rejection of bigamy and divorce seem to be seem to be a priori reasonable for Scotus, but he finds himself unable to prove these points. The way out Duns Scotus sees here is that only in exceptional cases bigamy could be reasonable.110 His arguments move within a theoretical and systematic frame ­work.111 109

110 111

Ordinatio Prologus 120: ‘Dico quod ipsa tradit quis sit finis hominis in particulari, quia visio et fruitio Dei, et hoc quantum ad circumstantias appetibilitatis, puta quod ipsa habebitur post resurrectio­nem ab homine immortali, in anima simul et corpore, sine fine.’ See Krop, De status van de theologie, 167, and cf. Finkenzeller, Offenbarung und Theologie, 42-9. See § 5.8: Bigamy, and cf. § 5.6: Lying and § 5.7: Perjury. Gilson’s interpretation of Duns Scotus’ thought as a ‘theologism’ is unfounded. For Wolter’s criticisms of Gilson’s misinterpretaion, see Wolter, ‘The ‘Theologism’ of Duns Scotus,’

Duns Scotus’ Life and Works – Ideas of Theology

1.8

37

Theology as Scientific Activity No student of medieval speculative thought can help being struck by the peculiar fact that whenever fundamental progress was made, it was theological problems which initiated the development. This applies to St Augustine and Boethius, and to the great medieval masters as well (such as Anselm, Thomas Aquinas, Duns Scotus). Their speculation was, time and again, focused on how the notion of being and the whole range of our linguistic tools can be applied to God’s Nature (Being).112

In order to read the young Duns realistically we have to free ourselves from the vague feeling that thirteenth-century scholasticism is a kind of Aristo­telianism. Of course, the point is not that Aristotle’s texts were not constitutive in shaping medieval thought. They were, but it would impede proper an understanding of medieval culture, if we were to derive an ideological commitment on the basis of using basic texts. Using Peter Lombard does not imply that one need be a Lombardist, using the Areopagite does not imply that one ascribes to Dionysius’ thinking, and citing Paul does not imply that one is familiar with his theology. Properly speaking, one was not. After John Duns’ formative Oxford years – in a systematic climate without serious Aristotelian opposition – he tackles many new issues, but now his step is sure. His thought has been formed and his direction is unambiguous. When we ask for the critical status of theology, we have to state that for Duns the Aristotelian theory of science does not function as a measuring rod: if an intellectual undertaking does not meet the Aristotelian conditions, it is not a science. Lectura Prologue, part 3, and Ordinatio Prologue, part 4, deal with the issue whether theology is considered to be a science. Duns briefly surveys the Aristotelian conditions, whereas he does not conclude that theology is no science. Instead, he critically assesses these conditions.113 His basic distinction is the distinction between necessary and contingent propositions which functions as the foundation of the distinction between necessary theology which

112 113

FS 7 (1947) 257-73 and 367-98 (= McCord Adams (ed.), The Philosophical Theology of John Duns Scotus, 209-53), and cf. Gilson, ‘Metaphysik und Theologie nach Duns Scotus,’ Franzi­skanische Studien 22 (1935) 209-31, and idem, ‘Les seize premiers Theorema­ta et la pensée de Duns Scot,’ Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du moyen-âge 12-13 (19371938) 5-86. Cf. Krop, De status van de theologie, 15-23, and also §1.8 and chapter 5, and DPhil 357-9. De Rijk, ‘On Boethius’s notion of being,’ in Kretzmann (ed.), Meaning and Inference in Medieval Philosophy, 1. Compare DPhil chapter 9 on the theory of science. See Lectura Prologus 107 and Krop, De status van de theologie, 209-10.

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deals with necessary propositions, and contingent theology which deals with contingent propositions. Contingency cannot be removed. The Aristototelian condition that scientific proposition is such necessary is wrong, since we cannot know contingent propositions as necessary. As Duns puts it: We answer that no intellect can know a contingent proposition as being necessa­ry, unless it were to err. Therefore it does not make sense to say that contingent states of affairs as they are known by God, are necessary. He knows what is contingent as contingent.114 Duns Scotus distinguished between different aspects of theology and again he follows the thirteeht-century majority report. There are different ways of knowing: Therefore theology is properly called wisdom (sapientia) and not science (deduc­tive knowledge), because it is evident knowledge (notitia) which is derived neither discursively nor on the basis of a premiss, but is based upon the evidence of the terms.115 God’s knowledge of what is contingent is also evident knowledge. He has certain knowledge of contingently true propositions, since the evident nature of this knowled­ge is based on the nature of divine knowledge as such.116 In the case of evident knowledge of what is contingent truth is entailed and guaranteed, even if there is no necessary connection between the terms. God is not an epistemic beggar; by contrast, we have to acquire knowledge. Duns Scotus works in a new academic tradition which continues to emancipate itself from ancient epistemic models. A new world of scholarly and critical investigations arises and we meet the decisive phenomenon that, for the first time in the history of philosophical and theological thinking, the contin­gent becomes an independent realm of epistemological reflection:117 114

115 116 117

Lectura Prologus 112. See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 16-17 and 33-7. For the structures crucial for Duns Scotus’ theory of knowledge, see DPhil chapter 8, and compare this chapter with DPhil § 9.3.3 and § 9.4, §§ 14.5-14.6 and § 16.6. Lectura Prologus 113. See Vos et al., op. cit., 18-19 and 27-33. On scientia, cf. Chenu, La théo­ logie comme science au xiiie siècle, 67-8. See Ordinatio Prologus 210-11. See Krop, De status van de theologie, 211-13, and in particular 212 notes 18 and 20, under reference to KN 77 stating that Duns disconnects in a revolutionary way the metaphysical and epistemological dimensions. Compare Ludwig Hödl, ‘Von der theologischen Wissenschaft zur wissenschaflichen Theologie bei den Kölner Theologen Albert, Thomas und

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According to Duns Scotus, theology does not satisfy the requirements of Aristotle’s concept of science in principle. This leads to a first breakthrough of the primacy of the knowledge of what is necessary and a reassessment of the knowledge of what is contingent and of experience.118 Duns Scotus develops his personal reflections on the basis of the notions of axiomatic and indirectly evident truth which are crucial in the epistemic logic of necessary truths. There arise preliminary problems from the definition Duns had already offered in the introductory part. The stand taken by him is clear: theology in itself is scientia as far as scientia itself is spotless. Then he offers the Aristotelian definition of scienti­a/epistèmè and goes on comparing two of his three aspects of theology with this conception of science. There are two questions at stake: Is theology scientia a science (§ 107),119 and is theology a subordinate or subordinating science? This last additional issue of the theory of science is a famous one at the end of the thirteenth century posing the question whether theology is a subordinate science, or not. Thomas Aquinas presents a distinctive contribution.120 Duns’ Lectura contains a very brief exposition.121 What does this epistemological distinction between a subordinating and a subordinate (subalterna­ta) science consist in? This distinction is met in Aristotle’s philosophy of science. In Analytica Posteriora I 3, Aristotle teaches that a science is only subordinate, if its principles are derived from another science.122 Examples of sciences to which other sciences are subordinated are arithmetic and geometry. We may also observe this pattern in the relationship between geometry and geometrical optics, when we utilize a famous sixteenth-century example by referring to the Law of Snellius, and in the case of the theory of numbers and the traditional theory of music (musica)

118

119 120 121 122

Duns Scotus,’ in Albert Zimmermann (ed.), Die Kölner Universität im Mittelalter, Berlin 1989, 19-35. Krop, De status van de theologie, 31. Cf. KN (1981) 68-87 and 269-74. Schalück overlooks this radical emancipation. See Schalück, ‘Der Wissenschaftscharakter der Theologie nach Johannes Duns Scotus,’ Wissen­schaft und Weisheit 34 (1971) 141-53. See Veuthey, Jean Duns Scot, 27-8, and DPhil 347-54. See Chenu, La théologie comme science au xiiie siècle, 71-85, Krop, De status van de theologie, 61-5 and 214-16, and Finkenzeller, Offenbarung, 196-215. Lectura Prologus 119-21. See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 20-3 and 37-9, and Veuthey, Jean Duns Scot, 28-30. Aristotle, Analytica Posteriora I c 3, 78b34-79a16. See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 37. Compare Ordinatio Prologus 216: ‘Subalternatio autem requireret quod notitia principiorum scientiae superioris esset causa notitiae principiorum scientiae inferioris.’

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that belongs to the quadrivium.123 Mastering geometrical optics implies that the geometrical demonstrati­ons can be delivered when they are applied to optical problems. In the last stage of his life and work, Duns Scotus became more and more fascinated by the phenomenon of axiomatization as is evident from his Tractatus de primo principio. It also structures his view of subalternatio. The main idea concerns axiomatic construction: the axiomatic construction of a strict science. Its first world-famous example is Euclidian geometry. This construction follows the strict pattern of proofs and theses. The basic idea is that everything has to be proven: a proof or demonstration is the derivation or deduction of a thesis from other theses. But how can such a proof be finished, if these theses have to be proven on their turn, and so on? Aristotle’s and Euclid’s solution is that a proof can be finished – and it can only be delivered, if it can be finished –, since the foundation of the edifice of theses consists of axioms and axioms are fundamental ‘theses’ that are in no need of proof and demonstration. Scotus not only applies this axiomatic model at a deductive science, but also at the relations of the sciences among each other which, in principle, can apparently be axiomatized too. Herewith we have arrived at the difference between a subordinating or subalternating science and a scientia subalternata: A subordinating science (scientia subalternans) has direct and first principles which have only to be reduced to simple terms which are known as such on account of their own evident nature. Therefore, the principles are known a priori, since the terms are self-evident in themselves.124 This feature does not obtain in a scientia subalterna(ta) which is subjected to a subordinating science (scientia subalternans). Benignus Körver’s formulations are very clear: Its first principles cannot be reduced immediately to simple and self-evident terms. So they are not a priori knowable. The truths which are the 123 124

Duns Scotus elaborately deals with this distinction in Lectura III 24, where the theory of perspective (perspectiva) is connected with geometry and musica with arithmetica. Ordinatio III 24.2. In fact, this text was immediately locked through from Lectura III 24.15: ‘Scientia subalternans habet principia immediata et prima, quae non habent resolvi nisi in terminos simplices, notos ex evidentia rei in se. Et ideo principia nota sunt propter quid ex terminis per se notis ex evidentia rei.’ Both texts also offer the same parallel definition of a scientia subalternata. Duns Scotus immediately locked the entire cluster Lectura III 19-25 through to his Ordinatio III. See DS 56-7 and § 1.5.

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first princi­ples of a scientia subalterna are the conclusions of the superior scientia subaltern­ans. The scientia subalternata receives its principles from a higher science and persupposes that these principles are true, although they are not evident in the subordinated science itself.125 According to Duns Scotus, relations of sciences are nuanced matters. The theologia per se is neither subalternans nor subalternata, but in the Lectura this issue is not discussed with regard to the theologia viatorum. An interpolated text of the Ordinatio has more to say as has been seen by Körver, although he could not know that it was an interpo­lated text: Duns points out that some give an affirmative answer. According to them, this kind of theology is subordinate (subalternata) to the scientia Dei et beatorum. Scotus does not agree at all and he offers a number of arguments in order to prove that this opinion is not true. The Prologue has some very brief arguments. Duns’ intentions can be clarified with the help of the quaestio on the consistency or inconsistency of faith and knowledge in Book III of the Sentences commenta­ry.126 This is an excellent observation. Even the Ordinatio Prologue text is rather implicit, but, indeed, Lectura III 24.3-6 shows a refutation of the subordination theory. Here, Duns indeed discusses Thomas Aquinas’ version of this theory.127 According to Aquinas, the distinction has to be applied in terms of the ways theological knowledge is acquired:

125

126 127

Körver, ‘De natuur van de theologie volgens Scotus,’ Collectanea Franciscana Neerlandica VII 1, 86, under reference to Opus Oxoniense (= Ordinatio) III 24.2, which in fact offers the Ordinatio text, immediately taken from Lectura III 24.15: ‘Scientia autem subalternata non habet principia immediata et prima, resolubilia immediate in terminos simplices. Et ideo non sunt nota propter quid in illa scientia, sed in scientia subalternante in qua sunt conclusiones demonstratae.’ Körver, ‘De natuur van de theologie volgens Scotus,’ op. cit., 88. Opus Oxoniense III 24.4 explicitly refers to the Summa Theologiae of Thomas Aquinas. For Körver this point is very interesting (op. cit., 88-9). The second half of Lectura III concentrates again and again on the description and analysis of theories of Thomas Aquinas and Henry of Ghent. Thomas Aquinas does not play a major role in Lectura I-II. On Thomas Aquinas’ theory, see Chenu, La théologie comme science au xiiie siècle, 71-92.

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The principles of our theology are derived from the theology of God and the theology of angels. Aquinas therefore maintains that our theology is subordinate to the theology of God and that of the blessed.128 Duns notices that they who defend that theology is a scientia subalternata, contradict themselves, since they are also convinced that faith and knowledge exclude each other.129 The second counter argu­ment against Thomas Aquinas says that this theory implies that there are at least two theological sciences: on the one hand, the theology of God and the blessed, and, on the other hand, the theology of the viatores. However, this implication is incompatible with the given that there is only one theological science.130 The quaestiones of the Prologue assume that there is only one theology: Is the revealed doctrine indispensa­ble? Is theology a science? Is theology practical? The substantial unity of theology and Holy Writ makes also clear that, according to Duns Scotus, there must be a funda­mental unity of theology. Duns Scotus clearly denies that theology is subordinate to any other science. The principles of theology cannot be taken from another science, since theology focuses on the divine nature. Theology – in the basic sense of God’s own knowledge (scientia divina) – cannot be subordinate, since it covers all possible truth so that this knowled­ge is complete and perfect in itself.131 Therefore, it is impossible that there is another theology. It is also impossible that the theology of the Church begins where divine theology stops. The theology of the Church is only a subset of truths of the divine theology as far as this theology is true. The theology of God cannot offer the premis­ses of our theology (theologia viae).132 A scientia subalternans such as mathematics and a 128

129 130

131 132

Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 37. Just this theory makes it abundantly clear that Aquinas looks on theology as a science in the Aristotelian sense of the word, and that the Utrecht approach of H. Rikhof c.s. is mistaken. Cf. Aertsen, ‘Thomas van Aquino en de Thomas van Utrecht,’ Bijdragen 55 (1994) 59-62. See Ordinatio Prologus 148. The interpolated text is simply an extract based on Lectura III 24. On the other hand, Thomas Aquinas also believes that there is only one theology, and, according to Scotus, the Thomist thesis is self-contra­dictory. Compare Summa theologiae I 3 c. a. The interpretation by Vellico, ‘De charactere scientifico sacrae theologiae apud Doctorem Subtilem,’ Antonianum 16 (1941) 22-3, is wrong. See also Hofmeister Pich, Der Begriff der wissenschaftlichen Erkenntnis nach Johannes Duns Scotus, chapter vii: ‘Unter­ ordnung und Einheit der Wissenschaft.’ See Lectura Prologus 119-21. Compare Ordinatio Prologus 214. The Opus Oxoniense text is also excellent. Opus Oxoniense Prologus 30 is an interpolated text. See also the interpolated text in Ordinatio Prologus 148.

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scientia subalterna(ta) such as the theory of the perspective can be mastered by one mathematician, but the theology of God cannot come into our possession. The basic type of theology can neither be subordinated to metaphysics, in the sense of the philosophical theory of transcendent terms, for theology-initself derives no principles from metaphysics, even if the subject of theology per se is covered in a general sense by the subject of metaphysics. There is no overlap of the principles of both sciences, since the theological attributes are not demonstrable in terms of metaphysical principles and arguments.133 This train of thought differs distinctly from the modern view that Duns Scotus’ philosophical theory of God is metaphysics. The key witness of Duns’ philosophical theory of God is the Tractatus de primo principio where a host of theological attributes are proven, but, for Duns, the problems of proof and demonstration and the metaphysi­cal status are quite different matters. Something can be argued for in theology and it can even be proven and demon­ strated without being metaphysical. This is in harmony with a fine observation of the young Duns about the philosophical status of the concept of the Trinity, just as it is anchored in the Trinitarian notions of to be produced (productus esse) and productio: It can be argumentatively explained and those arguments can have more demonstrative force than many proofs in meta­physics. However, the undertaking of delivering proofs is always related to certain theoretical subjects of our scientific endeavor. So, whether a certain proposition belongs to a certain branch of science, must be determined in terms of the structural subject of that science. For Duns, provability is no classificatory item, for the status of being self-evident is absolute for him. Moreover, terms of scientific and epistemic evaluation are linked with an individual who knows something in a metaphysical or mathematical way. If a metaphysician is clearly familiar with a line or a whole, he can know an axiomatic proposition regarding a line or a whole in a way which is superior to the way a mathematician knows it, although that principle is also evident to him. God is not the first subject of ontology. Averroes is refuted, because he teaches that the subject in metaphysics is the separated substance.134 The sub133

134

See Ordinatio Prologus 214 and the excellent commentary by Körver, ‘De natuur van de theologie volgens Scotus,’ Collectanea Franciscana Neerlandica VII 1, 87-8. Cf. Krop, De status van de theologie, 214-16. Lectura Prologus 97: ‘Ad aliud dicitur quod Deus non est subiectum primum in metaphysica. Et falsum dicit Commentator quod subiectum in metaphysica est substantia separata, quod probatur in scientia naturali, nec potest alibi probari esse, quia non potest probari esse nisi per motum. Primo, enim falsum dicit quod naturalis probat subiectum

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ject of a higher science cannot be proved by a more restricted science. Physics cannot present the subject of metaphysics; metaphysics is able to prove that God exists in a way much better than physics can achieve.135 It is clear for Duns that the subject of theology is God, just as infinite being, quite different from the first subject of ontology:136 God is only self-evidently known to Himself.137 1.8.1 Theology is Practical Scotus’ own contributions to theology and philosophy are qualified pieces of academic work showing a high profile of demonstrative force. He defends the thesis that theology is knowledge rooted in faith and refutes the alternative views of Thomas Aquinas, Henry of Ghent and Godfrey of Fontaines.138 His is a personal version of the fides quaerens intellectum program: Many truths that are per se knowable about God can be known simply by the pilgrim (viator), not only a posteriori, but also a priori under the aspect of deity by a form of cognition that is superior and more noble than any knowledge of faith.139 This theological knowledge focuses on God to be loved above all and on loving God wholeheartedly. In general, medieval theology is a theology of grace, and, in particular, Duns Scotus’ theology is a theology of grace. Grace is the heart of the matter of what life is. The great presupposition is that God also gives faith when he gives grace. The view that theology is primarily practical rather than theoretical was after all the common view, and not only the common Franciscan

135

136

137 138

139

metaphysicae esse: numquam enim scientia inferior probat subiectum scientiae superioris, unde secundum hoc metaphysica dependeret a physica.’ Lectura Prologus 97: ‘Secundo, falsum dicit quantum ad secundum (as to the substantia separata), nam alio modo, et veriore, potest probari Deum esse, et ipsum esse necesse esse, et esse unum, quam per motum, nam hoc potest probari per actum et potentiam, quae pertinent ad considerationem metaphysici. Semper enim potentia praesupponit actum, et possibile-esse necesse-esse, et multa praesupponunt unum.’ An excellent survey of the theme of the subject of a science with Duns is to be found in Albert Zimmermann, Ontologie oder Metaphysik? Die Diskussion über den Gegenstand der Metaphysik im 13. und 14. Jahrhundert, Leiden 1965, 242-74. Lectura Prologus 73: ‘Deus sibi soli est naturaliter notus.’ Cf. Lectura Prologus 77. The subject of theology in itself is God’s own identity. See Reportatio Parisiensis I-A (ed. Wolter/Bychkov) Prologus quaestio 2 and Lectura III 24. On these debates, see Krop, De status van de theologie, 65-78. Cf. Möhle, Ethik als scientia practica, 83-115 and 142-57, and Veuthey, Jean Duns Scot, 31-3. Reportatio Parisiensis I-A (ed. Wolter/Bychkov), Prologus 184.

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view. Marshall comments that Duns Scotus argues that theology is practical ‘just because there is nothing in it which is incapable of increasing our love for God and the practices which enact our love. His reason for calling theology practical is pretty much the same as Aquinas’ reason for calling it speculative: everything in it is at least capable of directing us to the attainment of life’s ultimate aim.’140 This is reasonable enough, but it is not the whole story, for Duns moves in quite a different domain of conceptual structures. If we only take the terms prima facie, we proceed in virtue of the patrimo­nium fidei which all these Christian thinkers have in common, but they have this also in common with Thomas Aquinas’ vetula. However, the point is that we have to account for the theology of different medieval thinkers constituted by their conceptual and theoretical structures. For Aristotle, practical science is in fact a contradictory notion. ‘Scotus adopts a wider definition of the term ‘practical,’ although, of course, it remains connected with contingent action. In his opinion, scientific knowledge is practical, when it structurally preceeds practical action, and this practical action is correct only when it is in accordance with this knowledge. Thus all scientific knowledge which directs practical action, can be called practical.’141 When we act in a certain way, the question is not: How do we know, but: Why do you perform this action? This question focuses on willing how much functional knowledge may be involved. The intellect, perfected by theological knowledge, looks upon God as the God who ought to be loved, and according to rules by which an act can be elicited. Therefore, it is practical knowledge.142 Duns Scotus’ stress on the role of the will is not an idiosyncratic preference for the primacy of the will, but this role is simply anchored in the contingency of reality and the nature of persons acting in this reality. Precisely this notion of contingency is excluded by the Aristotelian way of ideas, be it Christian or not. Moreover, Scotus’ approach is neither an individual preference, for it 140 141

142

Marshall, ‘Quod Scit Una Vetula,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 6. Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 26 (25-7: ‘Theology as a practical science’). See also Krop, De status van de theologie, 217-66, and Sondag, La théologie comme science pratique, 75-103. See Lectura Prologus 164: ‘Intellectus apprehendens obiectum secundum regulas ex quibus potest causari praxis per motionem voluntatis, est practicus. Sed intellectus, perfectus habitus theologiae, apprehendit Deum ut amandus et secundum regulas ex quibus potest elici praxis. Ideo est habitus practicus.’

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represents the Western majority report. It is simply rooted in the spirituality of his own culture: The blessed who know more, have more love. Here he who knows more great deeds of God, is more fixed to praising and loving God.143 1.9

Perspectives

The philosophical tradition of faith in search of understanding discovered the striking structure of theology: the whole of theology shows an overarching cohesion of necessarily true theories. Therefore, rival theories cannot be true. Faith not only saves the sinner, but it also saves philosophy. Moreover, the philosophical dimension of theology prevents the risks of positivism with regard to revelation in salvation history and kerygmatic theology. It is precisely the knowledge of faith that creates a philosophical theology around the pivotal center of a consistent concept of God that is trinitarian. Both the philosophical style and the spiritual dimension enjoy a prominent place in the works of Duns Scotus. There are also modern issues with regard to meta-theology which have no parallel in Duns Scotus’ reflections. Church and theology is no explicit theme, neither the relation between the office of the priesthood and theology. Duns does not require that every priest ought to be an academic theologian, and neither that a theologian has to be a priest. Nevertheless, it is also clear that both callings exercised a huge fascination for John Duns and his friends. For them, working in the Church and living from faith and hope, love and trust, the bond between being a priest and doing theology was an existential one. Moreover, the contribution of the Franciscan movement to the elevation of the scholarly quality of the clergy of the Church has been enormous, even if faith and the liturgy, the Church and the pastorate came on the first place. This theology was church theology par excellence, truly kirchliche Dogmatik, charismatically aflame. However, logic is the great presupposition of Duns Scotus’ argumentations, the Church the great environment of his theology. His constructive theo-logy implicitly embodies criticisms of life and thinking, neither itself immune to correction, nor even conversion. Not only the outstanding quality of his work, but also the historical recognition he received shine out over the centuries. Anselm touched the Augustinian 143

Lectura Prologus 163: ‘Beati qui plus cognoscunt, plus diligunt. Et hic, qui plura magnalia Dei cognoscit, magis ordinatur ad laudandum et diligendum Deum.’

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heritage by an intensified engagement and fascination. The immense theological quality of the mendicant movements created a splendid space to work in. The work of Thomas Aquinas is often seen as a solitary peak of medieval thought and although there is less isolationism in Scotist studies, we have also to state here that many qualities ascribed to Duns Scotus are simply the qualities of his surroundings. The decisive Scotian aspects are integration and accumulation, renewal in terms of true contingency, elaboration and completion. John Duns Scotus’ work is the mighty culmination point of the greatest line of tradition within the intellectual culture of the Latin Middle Ages. The heritage of John Duns Scotus continued to be a formative force for centuries. Sir Anthony Kenny formulated this impact as follows: In his brief academic career he (= Duns Scotus) altered the direction of philosophical thinking in many areas and set it on new courses to be followed for centuries.144 144

Sir Anthony Kenny, Medieval Philosophy, 85.

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Chapter 2

God Triune 2.1

Introduction Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.

The worship and the hymns of the Church make clear that God is triune: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. The structure of the baptismal formula is also triune: in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and the structure of the Apostolic Creed is triune as well. The Triune God reveals himself, and the doctrine of the Trinity attempts to draw out the implications of biblical revelation and the faith of the Church. The starting point of such reflection is salvation history and its continuing impact on Church and world. It starts from the history of Jesus Christ, God incarnate, his life, deeds and word­s, and from the continuation of his powerful work through the Holy Spirit. II Corinthians 13:14 presents the famous Grace: May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Though a grace is not trinitarian theology in a nutshell, this grace is certainly trinitarian in scope. In the New Testament, there is a number of implicit references to the Trinity and Galatians 4:6 might be the most primitive formula: God sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, the Spirit who calls out: Abba, Father.1 However, it is evident that a trinitarian theology has problems to be solved. How can the lordship and the divinity of Jesus Chri­st be acknowledged without destroying the monotheism of the Christian faith and how can its monotheism be salvaged without degrading the eminence of Jesus Christ? The 1 Divine dignity is ascribed to Jesus Christ in Philippians 2:10-11: ‘At the name of Jesus every knee should bow – in heaven, on earth, and in the depths – and every tongue confess: Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.’

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004360235_003

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doctrine of the Trinity is either the cornerstone of Christian theology or its crucial stumbling block. The history of religion shows more than 2.000 religions, but only four out of this impressi­ve number are mono­theistic as we observe in Judaism, Christianity, Islam and Sikhism. In terms of the trinitarian concept of God, the loneliness of the trinitarian faith is even more striking, because three out of four monotheisms reject trinitarian monotheism. Judaism, Islam and Sikhism not only reject actual trinitarianism, but even the possibility and the viability of a trinitarian concept of God, but Christian theology views the property of being triune as an essential property of God. In the doctrine of the Trinity all kinds of theological problems intersect. Because of their fundamental nature, basic semantic and logical, epistemological and ontological problems are involved. If a trinitarian concept of deity were not found to be consistent, alternative concepts might be coherent. At the same time, competition between ways of thought is at stake, for not every way of thinking is compatible with the properties of being divine and being triune. David Brown wrote a major work on the Trinity, representative of modern orthodoxy. Part III of his The Divine Trinity is devoted to the coherence of the doctrine.2 His attention to this problem was kindled by irritation with the ease of radical theologians in dismissing the doctrine with the single dismissive remark that the doctrine of the Trinity is self-contradictory and that its basic notions are incoherent. The verdict that the theory is meaningless would be even worse. The reverential alternative of thinking that it is mystery, not open to investigation and clarification is neither a real solution. Nevertheless, the coherence of the doctrine is not dealt with by Brown in an articulate way. Only aspects of it are considered or mentioned, but the most important dilemmas had already been formulated suc­cinctly by Kirk: Our problem in the main is, Why three hypostases and not only two? Or, granted the possibility of hypostases, and that the historic Jesus, now risen and glorified, must without controversy be the second Person of the Godhead, why ask for a third? Whence this insistence upon the divine personality of the Spirit? [...] It is, after all, not only a question, Why three hypostases and no less? but also, Why three and no more? A full solution must show reasons not merely why Christianity insisted upon the third Person of the Godhead, but also why it stopped short there.3

2 Brown, The Divine Trinity, part III: ‘The Coherence of the Doctrine’ (217-301). 3 Kirk, ‘The Evolution of the Doctrine of the Trinity,’ in Rawlinson (ed.), Essays on the Trinity and the Incarnation, 219.

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Radical theologies do not frame a problem, but are only dismissive: they assert what really should be a conclusion of argumentation. There are sweeping statements in the works of such theologians, for example, that all of us know that God is triune is inconsistent or that the term Trinity must be meaningless,4 but we have also to concede that great authors of the orthodox tradition are also liable to the criticism that they have tacitly adopted the viewpoint of monotheism when turning to a trinitarian theology. There is still the question already asked by Kirk: ‘Is the idea of multiplicity in unity in any real sense intelligible, and so available as a basis for doctrinal exposition of the nature of the Godhead?’5 Duns Scotus’ views are helpful on both sides: by solving problems of consistency and by avoiding a mythologizing tendency. In this chapter, first, we look at the historical background of the theological starting point (§ 2.2). Then there is an examination of the theoretical center: the notions of productio and processio, including the approach Duns rejects (§ 2.3), followed by Duns’ theory of the potentia absoluta/ordinata (§ 2.4). § 2.5 discusses the generation of the Son and, likewise, the theme of § 2.6 is the spiration of the Holy Spirit. § 2.7 deals with the famous dilemma whether the divine persons are constituted by themselves or by their relations. The last section § 2.8 concludes with some final observations, where the questions of Kirk are also dealt with.6 2.2

Historical Background

Dogmas sing in the hymns of the Church which also produces dogmatic theology. Systematic theology is dependent on credal affirmations. We admire and adore God Triune who has to be worshiped in doxology and prayer, where the song of dogma rustles. It is God himself who elicits contact with those who wholehear­tedly believe in Him, for their experiences cannot be explained from their cultural background. However, theology is quite different business. Systematic theology is not directly revealed. Adequate theology indirectly rests on revelation; it embodies a development showing a long train of discovery and innovation. Reflective thought has more of a tentative endeavor in order

4 See Kuitert, Het algemeen betwijfeld christelijk geloof, 179 ff. Such simplistic criticisms boil down to the assertion that we all know that the number 1 cannot be identical with 3. 5 Kirk, ‘The Evolution of the Doctrine of the Trinity,’ in Rawlinson (ed.), Essays on the Trinity and the Incarnation, 160. 6 See also § 2.3 and § 10.3. Cf. DPhil §§ 13.3-13.5.

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to touch the heart of trinitarian mystery. For the medieval mind, the old highways of dogmatics were paths hidden in confusion. Greek theology prefers the liturgical and kerygmatic clarity of the Person of the Father, the Person of the Son and the Person of the Holy Spirit. In the three huposta­seis it finds the foundation of the one divine nature (ousi­a, and substantia – the term of the Western tradition which literally means hupostasis). However, the stress of the Western tradition of Latin theology is on the one nature of God. It aims at articula­ting this stress in terms of the deep structure of God’s one nature, consisting in the three divine Persons – a personal structure which identifies God. It is a remarkable fact that twelfth-century theology shows several clashes in trinitarian theology.7 It already starts with the mysterious case of Roscelin of Compiègne (± 1050-1125). Although it is difficult to identify Roscelin’s position from the poor evidence we possess, we may say that Anselm’s criticisms are based on his rejection of a one name theory of meaning. It is also to be noticed that Anselm calls his opponents logical heretics, not theological heretics.8 ‘Anselm’s semantics, then, remains firmly intensional.’9 This stance is the clue, and not an alleged exaggerated realism on Anselm’s part, as his theory of appellation amply shows.10 Paradoxically, Henry remarked in 1967 that ‘the origins of the medieval doctrine of suppositio are “shrouded in darkness”,’11 yet De Rijk’s Logica Modernorum I and II, revealing and clarifying the origins of the theory of supposition, appeared around the same time.12 However, Henry’s own observations nicely enrich De Rijk’s discoveries. De Rijk placed the origins of the logica modernorum in the second quarter of the 7

8 9 10

11 12

For a recent survey of medieval developments, see Muller, Post-Reformation Reformed Dogmatics IV 17-58. This helpful survey ignores the semantical and logical issues involved in the development of the doctrine of the Trinity. The development of the central Church doctrines gave a huge impetus to the flourishing of logic and semantics. See the present section and DPhil chapters 4-9. Anselm, Epistola de incarnatione Verbi i: ‘Illi utique nostri temporis dialectici, immo dialecticae haeretici.’ Tweedale, ‘Logic (I): From the late eleventh century to the time of Abelard,’ in Dronke (ed.), A History of Twelfth-Century Philosophy, 210. See Henry, The Logic of Saint Anselm, 96-107. Cf. Henry, Commenta­ry on De Grammatico, 78-80 and 319-45. On Anselm on the Trinity, see Hopkins, A Companion to the Study of St. Anselm, chapter 4. Henry, The Logic of Saint Anselm, 108, referring to Boehner, Medieval Logic, 27. De Rijk, Logica Modernorum I. On the twelfth century theories of fallacy (1962), and idem, Logica Modernorum Part II volume one: The origin and early development of the theory of supposition (1967).

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twelfth-century, but this approach neglects the specific back­ground of the logica modernorum in the age of the generations of Lanfranc and Anselm, hypothetically suggested by Desmond Paul Henry.13 To characterize the opponents of Garland the Compotist, Roscelin, Abelard and others as exaggerating realists or ultra-realists is simply misleading, although some tenth-century formulations are somewhat strong in their realist tendency. If universals are the true reality, there cannot be a theory of a personal God, one in three Persons. At any rate, we do not have to rely in a simple way on Abelard’s characterizations of his opponents’ views. However fascinating his personality may be, we have a duty to form an independent idea of the character and the views of his opponents. Otherwi­se, we fall still victim to the ideas of Cousin, Hauréau and De Wulf, and then there is no room to discover the originality and creativity of theological and philosophical thinking during those centuries.14 The Synods of Soissons (1121), Sens (1141) and Reims (1148) signal both the superiority of the French schools and the uneasy response to the attempts to set the doctrine of the Trinity into any frame work of logical and philosophical conceptualiza­tion. They also signal the strength of the drive to the ideal of fides quaerens intellectum as well as the enigmatic issues caused by that drive. Twelfth-century develop­ments show that traditional theories of categorization and predication were unable to deliver clear clarifications of the Christian doctrine. So, there was still work to be done. The fascinating point is that theology and logic did not sit down in despair and, for centuries to come, they did neither resign until scholasticism collapsed at the end of the eighteenth century. Now, one of these attempts to produce a framework for conceiving of the Trinity is to be examined, namely that of Peter Abelard. Abelard is a classic example of this new pheno­menon of attempting to understand the mystery of the Trinity. He applied procedures of semantic analysis and logical explanation to the contents of faith. His attempts to contribute to the theology of the Trinity illustrate the entrance of logic and semantics into theology and this invasion is simply the cross-fertilization of respected and respectable academic endeavors.15 In addition to his exploratory analyses, Abelard states and stresses the differen­ces between the Persons in God, who is essentially the one and the same God. So, God enjoys one and the same divine nature. The Persons 13 14 15

See also De Rijk’s Garlandus Compotista. Dialectica, 43-53. There is an easy remedy: see Marenbon (note 18) and Holopainen, Dialectic and Theology in the Eleventh Century. On De Rijk, see also DPhil 558-65. See Vos, ‘Scholasticism and Reformation,’ in Van Asselt and Dekker (eds.), Reformation and Scholasticism, 101-8.

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in God are different by virtue of the definitions of their propria, for instance, the fatherhood and innascibility of God the Father. Then, we may test definitions of the ‘properties’ of the Persons (their proprie­tates) along traditional lines. The definition of the proprium of God the Father is an heirloom of Christian Greek theology of the Trinity. As the origin of the Godhead, God the Father is not only himself, but also by and from himself. The definition of the proprium of God the Son stresses that he is eternally generated, brought forth and engendered by God the Father.16 The definition of the proprium of the Holy Spirit presents the procession from God the Father and the Son. As far as it goes, this is adequate, but these traditional formulations do not set Abelard’s mind to rest. ‘This analysis provides Abelard with a basis for maintaining the essential unity of God and the numerical plurality of properties or persons in God. Moreover, it enables him to expound the generation of the Son by the Father in terms of the production of the Wisdom of God by the Power of God (species out of genus).’17 The development of trinitarian theology from the second century to the Cappadocian Fathers had already demythologized the quasi-biological language of conciliar dogma, but, then, the question arises of how this idiom came to be refreshed and replentished with a new significance. Abelard links the trinitarian language with properties. The Father acts eternally by power and the Son by wisdom and the Spirit is intrinsically linked with love.18 Thirteenth-century theology of the Trinity accomplishes a mature doctrine in terms of essential properties of God. The doctrine of God and the doctrine of the Trinity are integrated. Scotus’ program of trinitarian theology is the culmination of this process. The dilemmas of the conflicts surrounding the trinitarian theology of Gilbert of Poitiers (1076-1154) were quite different from the dilemmas lurking in Roscelin’s views. The basic distinction in Gilbert’s ontology is the distinction between quod est and quo est. It is clear that the theory of material substance complicates the applicati­on of this logical and ontological distinction to the doctrine of God and the doctrine of the Trinity, but it is certainly reckless to ignore the fundamental status of the distinction between subject and 16

17 18

Two aspects have to be paid attention to: a) eternally is here used in the traditional sense of Greek philosophy and means in fact: necessarily. The second aspect we do not have to forget, consists b) in the quasi-mythological ring of the wording, because there is no generation in God in the sense of Greek mythology and Gnostic ideology where bearing and mating with are passing to the order of the day. Luscombe, ‘Peter Abelard,’ in Dronke (ed.), A History of Twelfth-Century Philosophy, 296. This theology intrinsically links the Spirit with Love.

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predicate, underlying Gilbert’s distinction, as we will also observe in Scotus’ contributions. Moreover, Gilbert’s exploration is careful and prudent: ‘In the case of the Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are each different (alius), but they are all what they are by the same quo est.’19 Likewise, Duns Scotus avoids the pitfalls hidden in a one dimension semantics but Gilbert of Poitiers also distinguishes between the individual essences and the common essences of indivuduals. Remarkably, universalists call this distinction a curious distinction, but, understandably, this characterization must be somewhat curious to a Scotist mind, taking the level of individuals as a basic one. At any rate, it landed Gilbert in some difficulties, when he applied it to the doctrine of the Trinity by distinguishing between Deus and divinitas, and Pater and paternitas. Again and again, it can be seen how the development of orthodox theology is wrapped up with elabora­ting a sound logic and semantics. During these centuries, the relationship between what we call philosophy and what we call theology was intimate.20 Faith and reason were hand in glove. The one dimension stimulated and protected the other. Augustine’s starting point was the one divine nature which the divine persons share (memoria, knowledge, will; love, lover, beloved). The persons convey unity. This approach moves into the direction of transcendent theory formation, as the line Augustine, Anselm, Richard of Saint Victor and Bonaventure shows, it develops a trinitarian theology of love at the same time: love is the essence of the Trinity. The consensus of the great thirteenth-century theologians (Albert the Great and Bonaven­ture, Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus) also invites us to extrapolate their results. Duns Scotus would build on the discoveries made by Richard of Saint Victor by constructing a consistent definition of what a person is.21 The main tradition of Western trinitarian thought does not ascribe creation or any contingent act of God to one particular divine person. The external or transitive activities of God cannot be attributed to a single divine person (opera ad extra sunt indivisa). Emery neatly summarizes the stance of Aquinas: 19

20 21

Marenbon, ‘Gilbert of Poitiers,’ in Dronke (ed.), A History of Twelfth-Century Western Philosophy, 348. Marenbon consistently pays attention to the interaction of philosophy and theology, as De Rijk did continuously in his teaching. Consult Marenbon, From the Circle of Alcuin to the School of Auxerre. Logic, Theology and Philosophy in the Early Middle Ages, and idem, Later medieval philosophy (1150-1350). Cf. De Rijk, Logica Modernorum I (1962), chapter 8. See DPhil chapters 14 and 16. Cf. Minges, Der Gottesbegriff des Duns Scotus: auf seinen angeblich exzessiven Indeterminismus geprüft. On Richard of Saint Victor, see Den Bok, Communicating the Most High, chapter iii: ‘Rigour and Riches.’

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When God accomplishes a transitive activity (ad aliquid extra), that activity results in a reality that is of an essence other than God: the creature. Only immanent activities, which remain in God, make it possible to account for the procession of persons who are God. Which are those immanent activities of God that have divine person as their term? Only two among them make it possible to assert the procession of truly distinct persons: the intellectual activity of the utterance of the Word and the voluntary activity of the spiration of Love.22 This basic point of view makes it also possible to specify the concepts of procession and person in trinitarian theology: The proper characteristic of the procession of the Son, which is distinguished from the procession of the Spirit – for these two persons are distinct – is to proceed by mode of nature (per modum naturae). Correlatively, Saint Thomas teaches that the proper characteristic of the procession of the Spirit is to proceed by mode of will or by mode of love (per modum voluntatis, per modum amoris).23 In addition to the internal linkage between the trinitarian procession and God’s knowing and willing, there is the important relationship between God’s immanent activity and his creative and redemptive actions. In Thomas Aquinas’ thought, there is not only analogy, but there are also parallelism and participation.24 In this vein, a distinctive method has to be developed in order 22 23

24

Emery, ‘Trinity and Creation,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 61. Emery, ‘Trinity and Creation,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), op. cit., 62. Cf. Den Bok, Communi­cating the Most High, 469-71. A somewhat odd feature of the splendid Van Nieuwenhove/Wawrykow book is the habit of most authors of telling us that Saint Thomas offers theological explanations in this or that way in cases, where only common orthodox teaching of that time is under discussion. This feat fits in with the fact that the greatest theologians of the thirteenth century are conspicuous by their absence, for instance, Alexander of Hales, Grosseteste, John of La Rochelle, Bonaventure, Henry of Ghent, Godfrey of Fontaines and Scotus, as if we can study Aquinas in a vacuum. The notable exception is Harm Goris’s contribution: ‘Divine Foreknowledge, Providence, Predestination and Human Freedom,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), op. cit., 99-122. See Emery, ‘Trinity and Creation,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), op. cit., 61: ‘It is on this level of the communication of being, implying the doctrine of analogy, that Trinitarian causality is situated. The communication of the entire divine essence in the

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to show that the doctrine of God cannot be adequately explicated in terms of divine nature as the only concept. This insight entails that nature and person cannot be the same and, therefore, the notion of a person has to be unfolded distinctively and they have to be unfolded in terms of the internal structure of the trinitarian processions and the properties of God’s knowing and willing. The unanimous acceptance of the mode of nature (per modum naturae) and the mode of will or love (per modum voluntatis, per modum amoris) by Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas, and Bonaventure and Duns Scotus is a crucial point of departure. Duns Scotus’ is the spécialité de la maison: the reconstruction on the basis of the strict contingency model. The decisive point is whether the divine nature entails being in three Persons or whether nature and person have to be identified in a strict way according to the Unitarian view. In both cases no superficial contradictions are at stake – an observation which runs counter to many modern views. Duns Scotus simply builds on the foundations of the common thirteenth-century legacy, and, so, deep contradictions can be diagnosed.25 2.3

The Life of the Trinity: processio and productio

The foundations of Duns Scotus’ doctrine of the Trinity are derived from the creeds, but there is also the wider theological and philosophical background of the theory of divine properties.26 Again and again, Duns Scotus returned to the issues of of the existence and essential attributes of God. In several admirable texts culminating in his De primo principio he succeeded to prove the existence of God and many of his essential properties.27 The decisive ontological aspect regards the modal dimension of Duns Scotus’ proofs of the existence of God.

25

26 27

Trinity is the cause and reason of the communication to creatures, in a radically different order, of a participation in the divine essence.’ The crucial points I focused on and stressed in this section, are negelected in Michel’s survey (A. Michel, ‘Trinité II. La théologie latine du vi aux xx siècle,’ in Dictionaire de théologie catholique XV 2, 1702-1830) and Muller’s. See also § 2.8. See DPhil, chapter 13. On the existence of God, divine infinity and unicity, and simpli­city, see DPhil §§ 13.2.113.2.2, § 13.2.3, and § 13.2.4, respectively. On necessity and immutability, see DPhil §§ 16.416.5. On simplicity, see Cross, ‘Scotus’s Parisian Teaching on Divine Simplicity,’ in Boulnois, Karger, Solère and Sondag (eds.), Duns Scot à Paris, 519-62. Consult also Cross, Duns Scotus, 15-30 and 39-45, and idem, Duns Scotus on God, 29-123.

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His philosophical theory of divine properties is ­free from ‘modalitis.’28 The possibility-necessity structure of Scotus’ proofs had already been discovered by Herman Van Breda in his 1966 lecture at Oxford.29 Arguments running de necessariis ad necessaria are wonderfully strong, since it is impossible that they are not true. Van Breda saw Scotus attempting this demon­strative necessity in Lectura I 2: This new argument only offers a demonstration which cannot be attacked any more from the logical point of view and cannot be overthr­own or questioned.30 The necessity of possibility also underlies the proofs in Ordinatio I 2 and De primo principio.31 Camille Bérubé rehearsed the history of the Scotian proofs of the existence of God,32 and undermined the Avicennian interpretation Gilson had defended as early as 1927 and still adhered to in his Jean Duns Scot.33 The confessional dimension of the Christian faith dictates fixed points of orientation in trinitarian theology, but there are also theoretical spaces and a certain freedom to further develop the theory as the young Duns expounds in Lectura I 2.164: Right from the beginning we have to know that there are two points which are essential to our faith and which are principally discussed in the first book of the Sententiae, namely: There are only three Persons and there is only one God and these Persons are not from themselves, but one Person

28 29 30 31 32 33

Modalitis is the philosophical illness by which the weak ontologi­cal operator possibly collapses into the strong ontological operator necessarily. Van Breda, ‘La preuve de l’existence de Dieu dans la Lectura,’ Studia Scotistica II (1968) 363-75. Van Breda, ‘La preuve de l’existence de Dieu dans la Lectura,’ Studia Scotistica II (1968) 372. See Prentice, The basic quidditative metaphysics of Duns Scotus as seen in his De primo principio. Bérubé, ‘Pour une histoire des preuves de l’existence de Dieu chez Duns Scot’ (1972), Studia Scotistica V 17-46, reprinted in Bérubé, De l’homme à Dieu, chapter 8 (241-79). Consult Gilson, ‘Avicenne et le point de départ de Duns Scot,’ Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Age 2 (1927) 89-149, idem, Jean Duns Scot, 143. See Bérubé, ‘Jean Duns Scot, critique de ‘l’avic­ennisme augustinisant’ sur l’objet de l’intelligence’ (1968), in Bérubé, De l’homme à Dieu, 113-46, and idem, ‘Interprétations virtualisan­tes de la thèse scotiste de l’object de l’intelligence,’ Laurentianum 8 (1967) 234-50 and 380-401, reprinted in Bérubé, De l’homme à Dieu, 147-83.

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brings forth another Person and two Persons the third Person. Here, it is not allowed to hold other beliefs.34 This basic belief presents notions and issues crucial to the whole endeavor of trinitari­an theology which has to deal with nature, relations and the number of the divine Persons. To Duns’ mind, it is necessary to refine the notion of a divine Person. The ontological foundation of the Trinity is the Person who is only producing. Therefore, the Trinity must know only one producing Person and only two produced Persons. If there is only one produced Person, the concept of God will be binitarian, and not trinitarian. If there are more than three produced Persons, we collide with the creeds of the Church. Duns’ own lucid language reads in Lectura I 2.163 as follows: If there are not only two produced Persons, then there are either more Persons than three or less. Therefore, those authoritative texts which show that there are only three Persons in God himself, are saying that there are only two produced Persons.35 If there are only two productions, then the first productio shows the relata­ a and b of this relation. Since it is the first production, a is no produced relatum, but b is. This a-b act posits another act that is constituted by a being its subject, b being its subject and c being its object. The fundamental notion of productio also bears on the issue of what being a Person consists in. We touch upon the serious dilemma of constitution of just the subject or by the relation in Lectura I 2.164: Whether Persons are constituted by relations or by modes of being, while preserving what has been said before, it is not illicit to hold various views,

34

35

Lectura I 2.164: ‘Intelligendum est in principio quod duo sunt de substantia fidei de quibus principaliter tractatur in I Libro Sententiarum, scilicet quod sint tantum tres personae et unus Deus, et quod hae personae non sunt a se, sed una persona producit aliam et duae tertiam. Circa hoc autem non est licitum varie opinari.’ This consideration is missing in Ordinatio I 2.219-221. Lectura I 2.163: ‘Contra: Si non sint tantum duae personae productae, igitur vel erunt plures personae quam tres vel pauciores. Illae igitur auctoritates quibus ostenditur tantum tres personae esse in divinis, dicunt quod tantum sunt duae personae productae.’ The same text is found in Ordinatio I 2.219.

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but licit to develop hypotheses about these issues, since I am not obliged by faith to hold any truth.36 The point here is that one can speculate about different views and frame hypotheses, but in such cases one is not obliged by faith to hold one particular view. In the second part of Lectura I 2: Persons and productions Duns deals with four questions: the possibility of a plurality of persons in God’s one nature; the precise number of Persons; the consistency of the divine property of producing and the precise number of produced Persons. Duns’ strategy is striking. First, he tackles the third question and this question is just the fundamental one. It runs as follows: Is it compatible with the divine nature that there is something in God that is produced? In other words: Is producing (productio) a possible property of God? Of course, we realize that Duns’ treatment of these questions not only states the problems and discusses his proposals to solve them, but also contains counter-arguments which defend the denials of the positive answers to his questions. 2.3.1 Divine production and procession If the Christian concept of God is the heart of Christian theology and if the Christian concept is just the trinitarian concept of God, then the question of what producing or being produced amounts to is the Achilles heel of theology. Philosophy of religion as adduced by Duns and likewise rival religions consider this very concept of God to be incoherent. We may wonder whether this flaw can be healed. Contrary to what he is accustomed to do, in this urgent case Duns reverses the traditional order of topics and he postpones discussing rival theories and instead he immediately expounds his personal arguments (Lectura I 2.165-178) and then deals with rival theories (Lectura I 2.179-185). Duns proposes four conceptual demarcations which make divine productions possible: a. b.

36

 Producing and being produced cannot coincide in God (Lectura I 2.165175);  producing and working (efficere) have to be distinguished (Lectura I 2.176);

Lectura I 2.164: ‘Sed utrum personae constituantur per relationes vel per modos essendi, dummodo tamen salvantur praedicta, non est illicitum varie opinari, sed licitum est circa illa exerceri, quia non teneor ex fide ad quodcumque verum.’

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c.

 producing immanently is a necessary property of God (Lectura I 2.176) and  if the distinct relations of producing and being produced in God are possible, then they are necessary (Lectura I 2.177-178).37

d.

The first argument Duns embarks on is elaborate and ambitious and he himself values it highly. Much ontology has less demonstrative power. A trinitarian concept of God is the starting point. Duns does not approach this element of faith by adducing authori­tative texts or by amplifying it in an edifying way, but he proceeds on to a strict conceptual analysis in Lectura I 2.165: Whatever principle is a productive one in whatever it is, on the basis of its own content, it is a productive principle according to the mode in which it is in an entity. As it is in the entity so it is the productive principle in a proportional way.38 This principle has the status of an ontological proposition which cannot be denied. Through trinitarian theology we are acquainted with the notion of productio. Through the language of faith we are familiar with saying that the Son proceeds from the Father and the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. The term ‘producti­o’ names the same relation but in the opposite direction, running from the Father to the Son, and running from the Father and the Son together to the Holy Spirit. Given that this material of worship and biblical and liturgical thought is already in the background Duns directs his attention to semantical and analytical questions. If there is a productio, then there is a principle of production and principles of production have their own structures, but what structures are involved? In Lectura I 2.204 a production is said to be a productive act:

37 38

The huge parallel text of Lectura I 2.165-178 in Ordinatio I 2.220-247 deserves independent treatment. Lectura I 2.165: ‘Quidquid ex propria ratione sua est principium productivum, illud in quocumque est, erit principium productivum secundum modum secundum quem est in illo, ut sicut est in illo sic proportionaliter erit productivum.’ Duns repeats this principle in Ordinatio I 2.221 and a strong reformulation and defence are to be found in Reportatio Parisiensis I-A (eds. Wolter/Bychkov) 2.122-5. This principle also occurs as an ontolo­gical and Trinitarian proposition in Lectura I 2.202. Cf. Lectura I 2.165: ‘Quod ostendi potest per rationem, et forte magis demonstrativum quam sint multae demonstrationes positae in metaphysica. [...] Haec propositio si esset scripta in metaphysica, non negaretur.’

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I understand it as follows: productive acts are founded on essential acts, since an essential activity and a production stem, in an ordered way, from the same source.39 The important concept here is the concept of an essential act – an essential act is an activity which is as such essential to the act itself. The notion of a fundamental activity concerns necessary conditions of actions on the most basic level there can possibly be. If admiring and reading, counting and walking are to be undertaken, then there is a type of acting possible which makes just all these actions possible as possible actions. Actions presuppose other actions and, on their turn, actions are mutually dependent, but principles of activity do not presuppose other forms of action. They are presuppo­sed in all types of personal actions. Principles of production are based on principles of acting. Essential acts are basic and the trinitarian productions are based on such essential acts. A so-called production is productive and this bringing forth is based on an essential act which is essential to the involved agent: this is due to the productive power of an essential act. The great theologians of the thirteenth century identify the basis of the trinitari­an productions with the essential acts which are knowing and willing.40 There are only two such essential acts: knowing and willing. Therefore, knowing and willing are the only two essential acts and these two essential acts only have three absolute centers of subjectivity – the three Persons of Triune God. The first divine Person (God the Father) is the subject of the first production and the second divine Person (God the Son) is the object of the first production. The first and second divine Persons are the subject of the second production and the third divine Person (the Holy Spirit) is the object of the second divine production. Since there are only two possible divine productions, there are also only three divine Persons possible.41 Trinitarian theology simply consists in the theory of absolute personhood which is found in the best possible person, but the best possible person is not the only kind of person.42 Finally, it should be recalled that on this basic level a production is not a particular and specific relation between Persons: it is neither identical with 39 40 41 42

Lectura I 2.204: ‘Sic intelligo quod actus productivi fundantur super actus essentiales, quia ordinate ab eodem sunt operatio essentialis et productio.’ See also Klein, Der Gottesbegriff des Johannes Duns Skotus. The first relation aRb presupposes a and b, and a and b constitute the relation with c. Compare the basic options of Hannah Arendt in The Life of the Mind I: Knowing, and II: Willing.

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generatio, nor identical with spiratio – it covers both. ‘Productio’ is a categorical term. It covers both the relationship between Father and Son, and the relationship between Father and Son, and the Holy Spirit. Correspondingly, in the doctrine of the Trinity, ‘Person’ is also a categorical term. These relationships are not elicited by names, but are required by the fact that the best possible person is an agent and as an agent he is the creator and the redeemer of contingent reality. The theory of God’s Trinity is the result of a categorical analysis of the nature of reality. It is not based on religious fantasy. We have seen that we possess theological contents and we face the problem of structures. The formal level forces us to clarify the terminology. We focus on the level of formalities and terminology. Since a principle of activity has its own structure, it also acts according to its own structure and, therefore, the number of active modalities is defined by a structural variability. This structural variability is the essential variabili­ty of basic activity. Scholastic thought often sounds rather abstract, but such language is perhaps abstract in excelsis. Let us comment on Duns Scotus’ strategy in order to clarify it. If an essential act has its own pattern or structure, the variability of basic patterns defines the number of such acts, but why should there be more than one essential act? In terms of the requirements of his trinitarian approach, Duns Scotus presupposes that there are more essential acts, but does he realize that presupposing is not the same as showing that there are more? Of course, there is at least one type of activity, because if there is no type of activity, there is no agent. If there is not nothing (no-thing), there is something to act. However, suppose there is only one principle of activity, then also that one principle must be as simple as possible. If it is not simpl­y simple, then it is impossible that there is only one principle of activity. If there is only one principle of activity possible, it must be a principle secundum naturam (or secun­dum intellectum), if we make use of Duns Scotus’ language that takes secundum naturam in the sense of secundum intellectum. This principle itself entails invariability. If there is only one principle, invariability must be the principle. So, there is only one type of reality and this one reality is necessary. Only in a necessary reality we have only one type of activity. If there is only one principle, that principle is necessity and a necessary activity. Therefore, this hypothesis boils down to neglecting the distinction between ontological necessity (necessitas consequentis) and implicative necessity (necessitas consequentiae) on the level of logic. If we salvage this distinction, we have to drop the hypothesis that only one principle of activity could suffice. Incidentally, in the case where one abandoned the hypothesis of one principle, we have already introduced contingency. Contingency is true for our created

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world with many active principles, but not for activity within the Trinity which is necessary. Here, we face the kernel of Duns Scotus’ position. Just as it is impossible that there is only necessity, in the same way it is impossible that there is only one principle of fundamental activity – and only one productio. Reality is not that simple that it allows for only one principle of activity. Reality is rich and because it is richer than one single necessitated reality, there are more principles at play, but how many more? Now, we see Duns moving in a wonderful way. In contrast with the rival view which starts – and ends – with the principle of simplicity, Duns starts with a principle of richness which is a principle of complexity. Life is not simple; likewise reality is not simple, but it is complex. It does not make any sense to ptopose simplistic solutions to explain reality and what is going in reality. If reality is not necessary, we have to see what is entailed by its contingency. However, it would also be wrong to assume more factors than are to be derived necessarily form the contingent nature of reality. Then, on the basis of this radically different approach, Duns also accepts the principle of simplicity. The principle of simplicity joins the basic principle of richness. Basic activity must be rich, but its richness must be as simple as possible. It cannot be simply simple, as is evidenced by Lectura I 2.202: Concerning active and productive principles we have to state: There are more of them and they are diverse. Then the whole issue of multiplicity and diversity is either reduced to one, or to a multiplicity which is as small as possible. However, its number cannot be reduced to one: nature and will do not have the same way of being-a-principle, because they are opposites of one another according to their formal aspects. If they were reduced to the structure of one principle, that principle would either be identified as this principle, or not, and so as the other; and – whether it be this way or the other way around – it would either be a principle as nature is, or as the will is. Therefore, the whole multipli­city is reduced only to two first productive principles. Therefore, there are only two first principles of production.43 43

Lectura I 2.202: ‘Principia activa et productiva habent multitudi­nem et diversitatem; igitur tota illa multitudo et diversitas reducetur vel ad unitatem vel ad tam modicam multitudinem quantum possibile est. Sed ad unitatem non potest reduci, quia natura et voluntas non habent eundem modum principiandi, quia secundum suas rationes formales sunt opposita. Si enim reducerentur ad rationem unius principii, illud principium aut determinare­tur ad unum aut non, et – sive sic sive sic – vel esset principium ut natura

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The principles of divine activity (productio) are principles based on God’s nature. The productiones are founded on types of activity which are essential to God, since they are necessary, if they are possible. Divine activity is as rich as possible, and, at the same time, as simple as possible. 2.3.2 Conclusions Given the dogma of the Trinity, we distinguish between God’s nature and the divine persons, Person and procession (production), and, therefore, between producti­on and what is produced (productum, that which is brought forth). In the theology of the Trinity these aspects of faith are significant: (1) there is only one God, (2) there are only three persons in God, and (3) the divine persons are not from themselves, but the first person generates the second one and the first and the second divine person bring forth the third. Duns concludes his exposition of the basics of the doctrine of the Trinity with a strong and crisp argument in Lectura I 2.202: Therefore, since there are knowledge and will in God and since these principles are productive ones in themselves and there are also no other principles in God, then there are only two productions and, thus, only two produced persons.44 We have already seen the questions of Kirk: Why are there, after all, three hypostases, and no less, and also why are there three divine persons, and no more? Scotus’ answers are reality-based. They are not dependent on some ideology. Faith opens the eyes for the contingency of reality, but in itself contingency is an essential feature of reality. So, reality is so that it only asks for

44

vel ut voluntas. Igitur reducitur tota multitudo ad duo prima principia productiva tantum; ergo tantum sunt duo principia productiva prima.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 2.300-303. Lectura I 2.202: ‘Cum igitur in divinis sit intellectus et voluntas, et ista sunt principia productiva secundum se, et in divinis etiam non sunt alia, igitur tantum erunt duae productiones, et ita tantum duae personae productae. Intellectus autem in divinis se habet per modum naturae, unde Filius, qui est Verbum, procedit per modum naturae.’ Cf. § 203. The foundation of this line of argument is found in Lectura I 2.204: ‘Et sic intelligo quod actus productivi fundantur super actus essentiales, quia ordinate ab eodem sunt operatio essentialis et productio.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 2.201-387. See also § 10.3. Consult also DPhil § 13.3: God’s knowledge and § 13.5: God’s will.

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two different personal relations to reality which make acting in our reality possible, namely knowing and willing: not more, not less. This is the way the program of fides quaerens intellectum works. Lectura I 2.165 offers a startling assessment of the theoretical power of trinitarian theology: This can be reasonably shown and is surely more demonstrative than many demonstrations are which are posited in metaphysics. [...] If this proposition were to be written down in metaphysics, it could not be denied.45 The entire structure of the argument starts from possibilities of action which are necessary possibilities. This dimension of possibilities which are necessary for being a person can be extrapolated to the action-possibilities for being the kind of person God is. A divine person – person taken in the modern sense of the word – has the best possible action-possibilities. The concrete result leads to Duns Scotus’ theology of God Triune. Producing is felt to be such a strong point of departure that the theory of trinitarian productions and persons encamps into the territory of philosophy. Richard Cross’s careful and fruitful analysis of the issue of the number of the divine productions discerns many points of strength in the laborious treatments Duns devotes to trinitarian dilemmas.46 However, he also discerns a difficulty. In the end, Scotus’ explanations are based on the following premisses: Whatever can be in many supposita and is not determined to a certain number by something other than itself, in so far as it is in itself can be in infinitely [many supposita]; and if it is necessary being, it is in infinitely [many].47 The divine persons are not determined to a certain number by something else, neither is what they can have determined to a certain number by something else. They are fixed by their own nature. Cross’s counter-examples are mathematical ones. The same mathematically productive principle can bring forth many supposita. The infinite series 3, 9, 27 ... and 7, 49, 343 ... are quite different, 45

46 47

Lectura I 2.165: ‘Quod ostendi potest per rationem, et forte magis demonstrativum quam sint multae demonstrationes positae in metaphysica. [...] Haec propositio si esset scripta in metaphysica, non negaretur.’ See Cross, Duns Scotus on God, chapter 11: ‘The Number of Produc­tions.’ Cross, Duns Scotus on God, 151-2. Cf. also chapter 12: ‘Divine Persons.’

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but obey to the same arithmetical principle. Apart from the fact that Duns’ tradition does not call mathematical entities supposita, here only ontological principles concerning the nature of reality matter. Reality is necessary, or it is not necessary. If it is necessary, we have only one productive principle, but it is impossible that reality is necessary.48 So, it is not necessary. Then, either we know our reality, or we decide what to do in this reality. That it is. We may also say that if there is contingent omni­science of everything that is contingent, then we need only willing in order to explain this omniscient knowledge of what is contingent, for there can only be one omniscient knower of everything that is contingent. If not, the whole set of their knowledge must be different so that there is at least one item of knowledge of the first knower is missing in the set of epistemic objects of the second knower, but then there is at least one item of knowledge missing in the second case. So, the second knower is not omniscient. We eventually arrive at Duns’ conclusions: there are only two productions or processions possible, and only three divine persons. There is also the important issue how the formal distinction functions in the theology of the Trinity. Modern scholarship interpreted the structure of Duns Scotus’ theology of the Trinity in a rather unanimous way, but this picture changed dramatically with the pioneering dissertation of Hester Gelber and subsequent studies by Marilyn Adams. They argued that Scotus revised the formal distinction at Paris so as to mitigate its realism by no longer holding that it entailed discrete, extra-mental formalities or ‘property-bearers’ within one and the same thing.49 This alternative approach starts from the issue of realism. It does not envisage the basic function of the formal distinction so much as a logical innovation, but instead as a metaphysical one, and the metaphysical function not so much as a prudent and economical treatment, but as an illustration of a rather extreme realism which has to be mitigated: Scotus’s works contain at least two, importantly different accounts of this alternative sort of non-identity or distinction, however. According to the first and earlier version, there often is, within what is really one and the same thing (res), a purality of entities or property-bearers whose non48 49

See DPhil § 16.4. Dumont, ‘Duns Scotus’s Parisian Question on the Formal Distincti­on,’ Vivarium 43 (2005) 9 (7-62). See Gelber, Logic and the Trinity: A Clash of Values in Scholastic Thought 13001335.

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identity or distinction in no way depend on the activity of any intellect, created or divine.50 However, if we were to deal with this issue in terms of realism or anti-realism, we might say that extreme realism has to observed on the side of the opponents of Scotus, and not on his side. Duns Scotus does not multiply bearers, or subjects, of properties, but the opponents make identical what cannot be identical. Moreover, usually the formal distinction does not concern property- bearers, but properties, and it rests on the relations of strict entailment or strict equivalence. In an excellent research contribution Stephen Dumont rehearsed the whole issue in terms of a Parisian quaestio logicalis of Duns Scotus: The overriding concern of Scotus in the Logica is not to exclude formal distincti­on or distinct formalities as such from God but to exclude absolute distinction. To the extent that the former can be asserted in God without giving rise to the latter, which in the Logica Scotus seems to think is possible, they are permissa­ble.51 The processions of the divine persons show the overriding pattern of the theology of the Trinity, and they rest on the divine properties of knowing and willing which are distinct properties as such, also in God, although they are also strictly equivalent in God. 2.4

Potentia absoluta/ordinata

In terms of this web of ideas we can also understand Duns’ theory of the potentia absoluta/ordinata. The crucial view in the distinctions 43 and 44 of Peter Lombard’s Sententiae I is that God can do what he does not do and can will what he does not will. This is directed against Abelard who defended that God can only do what he does and that he can only nalate what he nalaat.52 50 51

52

McCord Adams, ‘Ockham on Identity and Distinction,’ FS 36 (1976) 25. Dumont, ‘Duns Scotus’s Parisian Question on the Formal Distincti­on,’ Vivarium 43 (2005) 61. A superb treatment of the text critical issues is combined with a fine systematic analysis. On the formal distinction, see DPhil 255-61. See Boulnois, ‘Puissance absolue, puissance conditionnée: Hugues de Saint-Cher,’ in Oli­vier Boulnois (ed.), La puissance et son ombre. De Pierre Lombard à Luther, Paris 1994, 69-96. Cf. I. Brady, ‘Peter Manducator and the oral teaching of Peter Lombard,’ Antonianum 41 (1966) 461-5.

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However, the new terminology around the distinction between God’s potentia ordinata and potentia absoluta derives from the many-sided theologian Hugh of Saint-Cher. He produced the first elaborated Sententiae commentary, which has the first explicit occurrence of the famous distinction. In itself it is possible that God rejects Peter and saves Judas. Then, his potentia is unconditioned. The potentia conditionata is the same potentia as far as it is related to God’s free decree. God can do something and he can do what is contrary to it, but everything is guided by his goodness. Hugh of Saint-Cher is still more radical, for he considers contradictories as contingent impossibilities, but he does not relate this move to internal theological propositions, like God is sinning. By his potentia absoluta God could remove the opposition (of a contradiction), and, so, they would be true at the same time, but they would not be opposed. How does this happen? Only God understands this, because he is the only one who understands his own power.53 At the time of the Scriptum, Thomas’ analysis is far away from the approach of Alexander of Hales, but it does neither coincide with the model of Hugh of Saint-Cher either. When we survey the points of view of William of Auxerre and John of La Rochelle, Albert the Great and Bonaventure, the clear upshot of all this is that there was no early standard use of the famous distinction at all, let alone the existence of an early innocent distinction of potentia ordinata/ absoluta, later on distorted by radicals, who misleadingly suggested an independent type of power. Historical reality shows a different picture of a very complicated search, as creating new ways of ideas certainly is. Such incisive processes of theoretical revolutions are not rectilinear, nor homogeneous. 2.5

The Generation of the Son

All religions, with the exception of Christianity, entail that God, or gods, cannot possess the property of being triune. Jewish, Islamic and Sikhist thinkers are convinced that a Trinity is impossible. This means that, according to the Christian terminology of one divine nature in three persons, these alternative views equate the notions of divine nature and persona (person), but what is a person? First, some semantic aspects of trinitarian language are reviewed 53

Saint-Cher, Sententiae I 42, in Boulnois, ‘Puissance absolue, puissance conditionnée: Hugues de Saint-Cher,’ in Boulnois (ed.), La puissance et son ombre, 139.

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(§ 2.5.1) and, then, the property of divine generation is explained (§ 2.5.2). § 2.5.3 bridges the transition to § 2.6: The spiration of the Holy Spirit. 2.5.1 Semantic Aspects I consider some traditional language of trinitarian thought, also found in Duns Scotus. The Christian faith states that it believes in the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit – God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are a unity of persons. God the Father is God in some sense as the point of origin; he is the source of the other two persons. The Father generates or begets the Son and the Son proceeds from the Father. The Father and the Son bring forth or spirate the Holy Spirit and the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. The first production is the generation of the Son by the Father. ‘The post-Augustinian Western theological tradition tends to spell out the procession of the Son by drawing on an analogy from human cognition: specifically, the production of a mental word,’54 which is produced by knowledge and its intelligible object. Lectura I 5 and Ordinatio I 5 are concerned with the theme of the generation of the Son. Here Duns deals with a complicated semantical issue. Discussing this generatio, Duns concedes that the proposition God generates is semantically and logically correct, but the proposition: the natu­re/essence of God generates is not. The defense of this viewpoint elucidates Duns Scotus’ semantical strategy: ‘God’ can refer to a person, but ‘essence’ cannot. By the way, this analysis illustrate what the id quod and id quo theory of Gilbert of Poitiers tried to solve.55 An abstractum cannot refer to an individual. Here we again meet Duns’ crucial view regarding essences and individuality, individuals and natures/ properties. He rejects the confusing notion of the Aristotelian substantia which both refers to individuals and natures. Duns rearranges logic and ontology. An abstractum cannot refer to an individual, because a formal term abstracts from individuals. ‘Essentia’ is absolutely formal. Why is ‘humanitas’ an abstract term? ‘Humanitas’ is more abstract than ‘equinitas.’ ‘Equinitas’ is nearer to individuals than ‘humanitas.’ It concerns individuals more. The semantic distance between ‘humanitas’ and ‘animalitas’ is shorter than between ‘equinitas’ and ‘animalitas.’ More differentiae specificae are left out. In the case of ‘essentia’ an absolute maximum of differentiae specificae is left out. It does not consider any aspect of individuality. It is ‘absolutissimum et ultima abstractione abstractum.’56 A term cannot be more abstract than ‘essentia.’ So, if there be a 54 55 56

Cross, Duns Scotus, 62. For the theory of Gilbert of Poitiers, see § 2.2. See Lectura I 5.25. Cf. Ordinatio I 5.24.

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term which cannot refer to an individual, it must be ‘essentia.’ The essentia is communicated in the generatio. The Father communicates the essence says: He makes that it is common to Himself and to the Son.57 Patristic language of the Trinity asserting that the Father begets the Son while he himself is unbegotten, was originally also veiled in mythical overtones, which had already been overcome a long time before the Cappadocians. Duns Scotus completely distances himself from mythical language and materialistic and biological patterns, as ‘begetting’ and ‘being born’ originally indicate. The final theses of Lectura I 5 clearly illustrate this emancipation from conceptual structu­res of materialism: The Son is not begotten from the essence of the Father as it were to be brought forth from matter (Lectura I 5.91-92), the Son is truly of the ‘substance’ of the Father (Lectura I 5.93-95), the Son is not from nothing (Lectura I 5.96-97), and relation and essence can be in the same person (Lectura I 5.98-110). In Lectura I 6 Duns makes the important point that the power to generate is something absolute and independent.58 The generation of the Son is also eternal, for it is coeval with the Father who generates and is eternal, for what is possibly essential to generating, is also really essential to generating.59 Repor­ tatio Parisiensis I 9: ‘Is the generation of the Son in God eternal?’ explicitly makes this point. The theologians have not brought forward various theories, because they unanimously deny that what is essential for God can be accounted for in terms of change, and, therefore, as it is said in Reportatio Parisiensis I 9.5-6: I reply that generation in God himself is eternal, and I prove first the possibility of an eternal generation, and secondly that such is a fact. (6) The first is evident in this way: in God generation does not continue under the aspect of change, but only under that of production. [...] However, eternity is only incompatible with generation under the aspect of change 57

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Communicating and being communicated are opposite rational relations (Lectura I 5.31). The essentia of God is the formal term of the generatio and productio of the Son and the first end term of the generatio is the Person of the Son. See Lectura I 5.69 and 71. See Lectura I 7.48-65. See Lectura I 9.6: ‘Illa generatio est a Patre naturaliter producente sine motu (cum ibi non sit fluxus formae nec forma fluens), est etiam a causa non dependente ab alio (quia Pater est primum principium activum). Igitur generatio Filii in divinis est coaeva Patri producenti: cum igitur Pater sit aeternus, generatio Filii erit aeterna.’

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whose terms are opposite. [...] Therefore, since that is not the way generation is in God, it is there not incompatible with it that it be eternal, and thus it is possible that it is eternal.60 Duns Scotus points out that if being eternal possibly belongs to the divine generation, then it is impossible that it belongs contingently or mutably to it. So, it belongs essentially to it, but if an essential characteristic possibly belongs it, then it is in fact the case. 2.5.2 Divine Generation The words ‘divine generation’ recall the ecumenical creed: the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, but what does the predicate begotten of the Father amount to?61 God possesses a complete activity of thinking everything that is thinkable. Such thinking is original and fundamental, and not dependent on qualified knowledge. His is a memoria perfecta. Memoria (the stock of thought that is as rich as possible) is the original mental or cognitive power of God from which the whole of the life of his mind originates. It is not produced in an artifical and contingent way. It is simply there.62 If God is omniscient, he is necessarily so, and if he is necessarily omniscient, he possesses qualified knowledge in every respect. It is necessary that God possesses qualified knowledge in every aspect. Hence, since possible reality is complex, it is impossible that all God’s qualified knowledge is entailed by his unqualified thinking. So, there must be infinite knowledge that is brought forth by, but not identical with God’s quality of original thinking. Thus Duns Scotus argues in Ordinatio I 2.222 that the power of God’s mind produces infinite knowledge: A divine person can produce infinite knowledge through memory and we have to add that this knowledge is only in the divine nature, for nothing else is infinite. Therefore, there can be an internal production through memory in God. We have also to state that if it is possible, then it is the 60

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Reportatio Parisiensis I-A (ed.Wolter-Bychkov) 9.5-6 (381): ‘Respondeo ergo quod generatio in divinis est aeterna et probo primo possibilitatem generationis aternae, secundo quod ita sit de facto. (6) Primum sic patet: in divinis non manet generatio sub ratione mutationis, sed tantum sub ratione productionis. [...] Sed generationi non repugnat aeternitas nisi ratione mutationis, cuius termini sunt oppositi. [...] Ergo, cum illo modo non sit generatio in divinis, non repugnat ibi quin sit aeterna et sic est possibile quod sit aeterna.’ See Wetter, Die Trinitätslehre des Scotus, 79-180: ‘Der Hervorgang des Sohnes,’ DS 225-6, and Cross, Duns Scotus on God, 132-7: ‘Internal Production by Memory.’ Cf. Cross, Duns Scotus on God, 131-3. See Ordinatio I 2.221 and Lectura I 2.165.

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case: both since possible being is here necessary being, and since that principle is productive in a structural way, then it is so in a necessary way.63 If God is God, then his mind is an infinite source of what is thinkable. He is also simply omniscient. So, the power of his mind can produce infinite knowledge, since what can be known is infinite. Since possibly having infinite knowledge is essential for God who exists necessarily, he actually possesses such infinite knowledge.64 If there is such infinite knowledge, there is also the subject of having such infinite knowledge, for if there is a property, there must be a bearer of that property. Properties do not fly in a subjectless space. According to Duns Scotus’ epistemic logic – pace the Christian Aristotelians –, the known cannot be identical with the knower. The first production and the first procession are to be considered in terms of God’s essential property of knowing, but the question also arises regarding which dimensions in God’s knowledge Scotus has in mind. The best definition of the generation of the Son is by Parthenius Minges: The Son is brought forth by the Father by natural or cognitive activity. The formal or eliciting principle of the generation is only the determinate intellect, not the will of the Father, although the will not only cooperates concomitantly, but also precedingly.65

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Ordinatio I 2.222: ‘Aliqua persona divina per memoriam potest producere infinitam notitiam. Ultra, sed illa non erit nisi in divina natura, quia nihil aliud est infinitum. Ergo, in divinis per memoriam potest esse productio ad intra. Ultra, sed si potest, igitur est: tum quia esse ibi possibile est necessarium, tum quia illud principium est producti­vum per modum naturae, igitur necessario.’ This text also plays an impor­tant role in Cross’s helpful comments in Duns Scotus on God, 132-5. There is not only no parallel of it in Lectura I 2.164-175, but the addition is also substantial in comparison with the original line of argumentation in the basic layer of Ordinatio I 2. When Duns Scotus continued to work on Ordinatio I from distinctio 10 onwards in Paris, he also revised somewhat the Oxonian part, witness the substantial additions found in Ordinatio I 2.221-225. See DPhil § 1.8 and § 2.2.1. If p, then it is necessary that p can be derived from: If it is possible that p, then p. Scotus’ If it is possible that p, then it is necessary that p entails: If it is possible that p, then p. Minges, Doctrina philosophica et theologica II 201: ‘Filius producitur a Patre per actum naturae sive intellectus. Principium formale seu elicitivum generationis nonnisi est intellectus determinatus, non voluntas Patris, etsi voluntas cooperatur non solum concomitanter, sed etiam praecedenter.’

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The new moment of an epistemic subject cannot be identical with the first person. Infinite thinking cannot be identical with infinite actual knowledge, for the actual universe cannot embody all that is thinkable and knowable.66 In Lectura I 2.202 the question is answered how knowledge behaves logically: The intellect stands in the divine according to the mode of nature. There­ fore, the Son who is the Word, proceeds according to the mode of nature.67 God’s nature implies his omniscience, but this omniscience cannot coincide either with divine knowledge of everything possible or with divine knowledge of everything actual. God cannot be thought consistently without this subject moment of knowledge, but such knowledge itself cannot exist without the structural moment of will. 2.5.3 God’s Knowing and Willing When we research the dynamics of Western thought from the generations of Lanfranc and Anselm to the generations of Henry of Ghent and Godfrey of Fontaines, the theory of will plays a key role. John of Damascus stated that the generation of the Son is a natural activity.68 Thirteenth-century theology of the Trinity explained this natural procession as an epistemic operation. Accordingly, questions arise, for example, how the divine will is involved in the generation of the Son. Duns’ basic points are clear: there can only be two processions in God and it is impossible that two processions are of the same kind.69 Since the second procession is by will, the first procession cannot be by will.70 It is impossible that God is only a knowing God, and not also a willing God. It is necessary that he is also a willing God.71 It has also to be stressed that it is impossible that the Father generates the Son by an act of will, but it can neither be the case that God the Father does not will that he begets the Son.

66 67 68 69

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For the refutation of necessitarianism, see DPhil §§ 16.4-16.5. Cf. KN VII 1 and VIII 1-2. See note 34 and Lectura I 2.202: ‘Intellectus autem in divinis se habet per modum naturae, unde Filius, qui est Verbum, procedit per modum naturae.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 2.300-3. See Buytaert (ed.), Damascenus. De fide orthodoxa I 8, 32. See Lectura I 6.6: ‘Impossibile est quod sint duae productiones eiusdem rationis; si igitur Filius produceretur voluntate vel per actum voluntatis, tunc Filius esset Spiritus Sanctus, vel Spiritus Sanctus non produceretur per actum voluntatis.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 6.16. See Lectura I 6.32. Cf. Reportatio Parisiensis I-A (eds. Wolter and Bychkov) 9.6 quaestio 1 (294-8), where we observe a reversal of the two questions of Lectura I 6. Consult also Klein, Der Gottesbegriff des Johannes Duns Skotus, 73-144; cf. Klein, op. cit., 145-88.

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The doctrine of Sententiae I 6 is clear and in Reportatio Parisiensis I-A 6.25 Duns Scotus’ formula is: The Father willingly generates, not only by a concomitant, but also by an antecedent act of will.72 Reportatio Parisiensis I-A 6.14 gives a detailed summary of the relations between willing and knowing: I reply that in us there is a threefold act in the will, namely willing an act of knowledge, willing an object known, and uniting willing as regards the following act of knowledge. The first two are in God, for the will is pleased in the act of understanding or knowledge, and it loves the object known, but the third component is not there.73 God’s will is related to his own epistemic reality, since God accepts and wills his own knowledge. He accepts and wills his own act of knowledge, for if he does not will contingently a contingent act of knowing, then that act of knowledge cannot be contingent.74 A known contingent object can only be contingent according to this model of willing. If we were to assume that God is not prepared to will his own knowledge, the conclusion must be drawn that this is impossible, for that would make that knowledge impossible, although it is necessary knowledge. It is impossible that God does not will his own identity and it is impossible too that he does not will what flows from his own identity. The divine intellect produces the articulated knowledge to be expressed by its own epistemic subject, but the will is not the constitutive principle. The Father expresses himself in the Son, but he does not bring forth the new subject of knowledge by will (voluntate), nor by an act of will (actu voluntatis). If the Father is God, he has simply that knowledge. However, first, he still brings forth, but, second, how is it possible that he simply possesses this omniscient

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Reportatio Parisiensis I-A 6.25 (eds. Wolter and Bychkov, 300): ‘Dico quod Pater volens generat, non tantum voluntate concomitante, sed antecedente.’ Reportatio Parisiensis I-A 6.14 (eds. Wolter and Bychkov, 297): ‘Respondeo quod in nobis est triplex actus in voluntate, scilicet volitio actus notitiae, et volitio obiecti cogniti, et volitio coniungens respectu intellectionis sequentis. Prima duo sunt in divinis, complacet enim voluntati in actu intellectionis sive notitiae et diligit obiectum cogni­tum, sed tertium non est ibi.’ This specification of Scotus’ line of argument utilizes the modern notion of contingency.

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knowledge? He brings forth willingly (volens), but how is this possible?75 These questions elicit the theme of the spiration of the Holy Spirit. 2.5.3.1 Conclusion Duns Scotus radically demythologizes traditional trinitarian language, rounding off a process of centuries. His doctrine of the Trinity is an analysis of the structure of divine personhood. God’s personhood (in the modern sense of ‘person’) must enjoy a specific structure for it to be possible to perform activities which are claimed to be individual for God. The trinitarian concept of God has to be derived a priori from the structures of being a person and personal possibilities of divine action. 2.5.4 The Logic of the Potentia Divina: Duns Scotus The direction of the Augustinian main line is clear: what God does and what he can do, do not coincide and what God wills and what he can will do not coincide. However, there are also issues to be solved: what kind of can is meant here, and how is God’s potentia absoluta to be connected with the principle of non-contradiction? Let us assume that somebody is free (like a king) so that he can make a law and he can also change it; then he can act otherwise by his potentia absoluta according to that law, because he can change the law and constitute another law. We read in Lectura I 44.3: We have to say: when there is a agent, what he does in harmony with a right law and account of it – if he is not bound to and connected with that law, but that law is subjected to his will, he can act differently by his potentia absoluta, but if the law is not subjected to his will, by his potentia absoluta, is only possible what is possible according to that law by his potentia ordinata. However, if this law is subjected to his will, what is not possible de potentia ordinata according to that law, is well possible de potentia absoluta. If he still acts in this way, it is in order according to another law.76 75 76

See Lectura I 6.29-39. Lectura I 44.3: ‘Dicendum quod quando est agens quod conformiter agit legi et rationi rectae – si non limitetur et alligetur illi legi, sed illa lex subest voluntati suae, potest ex potentia absoluta aliter agere, sed si lex non subesset voluntati suae, non potest agere de potentia absoluta nisi quod potest de potentia ordinata secundum illam legem. Sed si illa subsit voluntati suae, bene potest de potentia absoluta quod non potest de potentia ordinata secundum illam legem. Si tamen sic operetur, erit ordinata secundum aliam legem – sicut, ponatur quod aliquis esset ita liber (sicut rex) quod possit facere legem et eam mutare, tunc praeter illam legem de potentia sua absoluta aliter agere, quia potest legem

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In the parallel text of Ordinatio I 44 Duns broadens the scope of this theme. Therefore, we not only distinguish between ordained and absolute possibilities (potentia ordinata et absoluta), if God is concerned, but in the case of everyone who acts freely – he can act according to the dictate of a right law and without such a law or against it.77 Lectura I 44 focuses on the idea of contingent laws, but now Duns focuses on the open possibilities of agency: every agent can act in ways which differ from what he does. The general distinction of potentia ordinata and absoluta rests on the concept of synchronic contingency. Potentia ordinata is related to what is actually done and potentia absoluta is related to what could have been done at the same time under the same or under different circumstances. 2.5.4.1 The Term ‘Absolutus’ The same point is at stake when we use the term ‘absolute necessity.’ This absolute terminology is often misunderstood. Scholastic terminology requires familiarity with the grammatical and logical background of medieval, academic Latin. We know the word ‘absolutus’ from the ‘ablativus absolutus’ in grammar. When do we use an ablativus absolutus? We translate the following sentences into Latin: (1) Although mother is ill, she still goes to church and (2) Although father is ill, mother still goes to church. The sentences (1) and (2) are rather similar, but, nonetheless, they are syntactically different: in (1) it is mother, who is ill, and it is mother who goes to church. First, we translate (1) into Latin:

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mutare et aliam statuere.’ Compare Andrè de Muralt, ‘La toute puissance divine et la participation dans la théologie occamienne de la grâce: Analyse structurelle des métaphysiques qui régissent la théologie de la grâce chez Thomas d’Aquin, Jean Duns Scot et Guillaume d’Occam,’ in Remigius Bäumer et al. (eds.), Im Ringen um die Wahrheit, Weilheim 1997, 83-110. Ordinatio I 44.3: ‘Et ideo non tantum in Deo, sed in omni agente libere – qui potest agere secundum dictamen legis rectae et praeter talem legem vel contra eam – est distinguere inter potentiam ordinatam et absolutam; ideo dicunt iuristae quod aliquis potest facere de facto, hoc est de potentia absoluta, – vel de iure, hoc est de potentia ordinata secundum iura.’

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(3) Mater aegra vadit in ecclesiam. In (3) aeger tells something about mother (mater), the subject of the sentence, and because of this connection, aegra is put in the nominative, just as mater is. However, the second sentence (2) has to be translated as follows: (4) Patre aegro mater vadit in ecclesiam. Father’s illness is an independent fact, which is not connected intrinsically with the main sentence, telling us that mother goes to church. Father’s illness does not depend on mother going to church. Mother is sturdy and she always goes to church. Now, the fact of father being ill is put in the ablative and this ablative is called: absolutus, because this event is not as such related to the fact that mother goes to church: it stands on itself, it is something ‘self-standing’ (Dutch: ‘zelf-standig), it is independent. This explains what ‘absolutus’ means in necessitas absoluta. Here, ‘absolutus’ does not have the modern metaphysical or political meanings: it has the traditional grammatical meaning. If something is ‘absolved,’ then it is untied and set free. It does not depend on something else. It stands on itself. This kind of necessity contrasts with hypothetical or implicative necessity: if it is necessary, being not necessary in itself, it is so in virtue of something else: it is hypothetically – or implicatively – necessary: if …, then … . In the expression necessitas absoluta ‘absolutus’ has the original grammatical and logical meaning. Something is necessary, if it cannot be different and what matters too is that God’s existence and God’s goodness are not constituted by a relation to something else, but if God knows something, then the logical connection between God’s knowledge and the content of this knowledge is crucial: this link is necessary. The epistemic content is only necessary in relation to God’s knowledge, and not on and by itself. The term ‘absolute’ of modern philosophical language has heavily laden meanings which medieval Latin and the language of classic theology do not have. God’s potentia absoluta does not depend on God’s will, for this potentia is not filled or determined by the actual will. What is possible, consists of what is consistent in terms of what God can will. The predicate absoluta just indicates this point of independence. The whole of possibilities does not rest on an act of God’s will, but the potentia ordinata is constituted by an act of God’s will. It rests on an act of the divine will, but the potentia absoluta focuses on what God can do, and the potentia ordinata on what God does. Thus, the potentia absoluta is the faculty of God by which he can act, because he can do everything that is possible for him, and then we abstract from his actual will. The possibilities of

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what God can do, are not defined by will. God’s eternal knowledge of the actual world and its history is based on his will leading what happens in time to its aim and his glory. 2.6

The Spiration of the Holy Spirit

The Western tradition eventually spells out the procession of the Son by drawing on the role of divine knowledge and eventually spells out the procession of the Holy Spirit by drawing on the role of the will in the life of a person and in the life of the divine mind: In a way analogous to that in which the Word is a state of actual knowledge produced by the divine memory, the Holy Spirit is a state of actual love produ­ced by the divine will.78 In patristics the dynamics of the theology of the Trinity depends on the develop­ment of Christology. Immanent Christology is developed in a close parallel to the doctrine of the immanent Trinity. The pneumatological revolution is a contribution by medieval dogmatics. The theory of the will becomes a substantial extension of the doctrine of God and it even transforms the doctrine of God into an alternative theory. The difference between the answers of Lectura I 6 and Lectura I 10 shows the difference: Is the Son produced by an act of will? The answer is: No. Is the Holy Spirit produced by an act of will? Now, the answer is: Yes, as Lectura I 2.204 had already indicated: In this way we also talk of the will with respect to the Holy Spirit, for to love in freedom follows the will with an object which is actually known when it is present to it, and to love is an act. However, this will with an object which is known when it is present to it, breathes love which is the Holy Spirit, and surely in an immediate way, although structural priority requires the activity of lo­ving.79 78 79

Cross, Duns Scotus, 63. See Wetter, Die Trinitätslehre des Scotus, 180-269: ‘Der Hervorgang des Heiligen Geistes,’ DS 226-8, and Cross, Duns Scotus on God, 137-42. Lectura I 2.204: ‘Sic etiam dicitur de voluntate respectu Spiritus Sancti, nam voluntatem habentem obiectum actu cognitum sibi praesens consequitur libere amare, et est operatio. Sed ista voluntas habens etiam obiectum cognitum sibi praesens spirat amorem, qui Spiritus Sanctus est, et immediate, licet prioritate ordinis praeexigatur operatio amandi.’ Codex V is followed here: amare instead of the amari of the Vaticana edition.

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Duns’ positive reply in Lectura I 10.5-7 is based on the following line of thought: I answer that the Holy Spirit is produced by an act of will: the will is, as such, a perfection – because otherwise God’s will would not be involved in his beatitude and because he is infinite perfection – since it is not by an operation of the intellect that the will follows the nature of reality.80 [...] Therefore, every imperfect principle of activity is reduced to two perfect principles and both of them are present in the first producing, since they have no imperfection and the first producing being must have the first productive principles.81 [...] Then, the argument runs as follows: everything that has a perfect productive principle can produce by that principle. The Father and the Son in fact have a will, which, as has been shown, is a perfect principle of production. By that principle, then, they can produce a correspondent product, or else, it would not be perfect. In fact, the principle is infinite. Hence, that which is produced by the will – which is love – is infinite. Therefor, they bring forth infinite love. However, they do not bring forth love as something inherent, since in God there is no inherent form. So, they bring forth existent infinite love which is the Holy Spirit.82 This kind of activity of willing is not directed toward any contingent proposition or state of affairs. It is not possible that a contingent state of affairs could be self-constitutive. This activity of will is a basic and necessary condition of any concrete willing. Therefore, the will is a principle of necessary production and of necessary procession, for something contingent cannot receive something that is necessary, and something necessary cannot cause something contingent from its own nature – there is a necessary production of personal 80

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Lectura I 10.5: ‘Respondeo quod Spiritus Sancus producitur per actum voluntatis: voluntas enim est perfectio simpliciter, tum quia aliter Deus voluntate non esset beatus, tum quia est perfectio infinita, quia consequitur naturam rei non per operationem intellectus.’ Lectura I 10.6: ‘Igitur, reducuntur ad duo principia perfecta. Et utrumque illorum est in primo producente, cum non sint imperfectionis et primum producens debet habere prima principia productiva.’ Lectura I 10.7: ‘Tunc arguitur sic: omne habens principium productivum perfectum potest illo producere; sed Pater et Filius habent voluntatem, quae est principium productivum perfectum ut ostensum est. Igitur, illo possunt producere productum adaequatum, aliter non esset perfectum. Sed principium est infinitum. Igitur et productum per volunta­tem, quod est amor, erit infinitum: producunt igitur amorem infinitum. Sed non producunt amorem ut inhaerentem, quia in divinis non est forma inhaerens. Igitur producunt amorem infinitum subsistentem, qui est Spiritus Sanctus.’

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subjectivity which makes possible contingent activity, including contingent knowledge. This act of will can be necessary and so it is necessary, because infinity and necessity are not incompatible. In Lectura I 10.20 John Duns concludes: If this principle can give, then it does give, and in this way it communicates the nature in a necessary way.83 To create is as such a contingent act, but the Creator exists essentially in a necessary way. What is created, is as such contingent; He who is uncreated, is esentially necessary. Finitude is intrinsically connected with contingency. What is contingent, is finite; He who is necessary, is infinite: Necessity is not incompatible with infinity. Therefore, the will produces a necessary product. And from this follows, as a further consequence, that the will is the principle of a necessary production, because the will cannot ‘accept’ something that is necessary in a non-necessary way.84 The theology of the Trinity concerns God’s personality and divine personhood. Trinitarian theology is not an idiosyncratic Christian preference, playing l’art pour l’art. It only spells out the possible ramifications of the concept of a person by unfolding the widest possible and the best possible ramifications of the concept of Person: Suppose there is infinity in an object and there is infinity of the will, then the necessity of loving and the necessity of producing love follows.85 We might already have surmised that Duns Scotus’ theory of conceptual structures and structural moments (instantia naturae) comes in here:86 83

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Lectura I 10.20: ‘Si potest dare, igitur dat, et sic necessario communicat naturam.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 10.39: ‘Principium productivum perfectum potest dare perfecto producto omnem perfectionem quae sibi non repugnat. Voluntas infinita est principium productivum perfectum, ergo potest dare producto suo perfectionem sibi competentem: non autem repugnat sibi necessitas. [...] Igitur, istud principium quod est voluntas infinita, erit sufficiens principium dandi necessitatem huic producto.’ Lectura I 10.21. See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 199. For the Latin text of Lectura I 10 and its translation into English, see Vos et al., op. cit., 194-207. Lectura I 10.26. See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 203. See DPhil §§ 6.4-6.5.

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At the first structural moment, the divine intellect understands the divine essence and presents it to the will. At the second structural moment, the divine will which can only be just, produces a love corresponding to the infinite object; for then it produces the love by which the object is loved according to the way in which it is lovable, and the object is infinite. Therefore, the love that is produced is infinite, and it it produces infinite love. Thus the Holy Spirit is the love for the divine essence.87 Therefore, the Son cannot be the Spirit, and the procession of the Son cannot be identical with the procession of the Spirit. In this spirit, Duns Scotus also deals with the question whether the Holy Spirit would be personally and really distinct from the Son, if the Spirit were not to proceed from the Son. Scotus holds that the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the Son is inconsistent, since it is incompatible with a necessary truth about God. Nevertheless, it is stressed by Duns that we can reasonably argue about it, although this proposition is a necessarily false one. Theological debate is possible, if the predicate proceeding from the Son does not belong to the definien­dum: the Holy Spirit.88 In general, the whole of Duns Scotus’ theology rests on necessary theology; in particular, his doctrine of God is necessary theology. God knows what he is himself as the best possible person and he wills what he is himself as the best possible person, and willing what is the best possible is the best possible love. Both personal acts are necessary, since the alternative of not-being so or of notwilling it is absent, and cannot be present. 2.6.1 The filioque Duns Scotus pays attention to the filioque as an ecumenical issue, because, as he informs us in Lectura I 11.7: The Greeks disagree with the Latins on this issue in various ways.89 In matters trinitarian, the thought of Duns Scotus is tributary to Robert Grosse­ teste and Duns copiously cites a note of his.90 The same approach is found in 87 88 89 90

Lectura I 10.27. See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 203. Cf. Ordinatio I 10.49-58. See DPhil 207-10. Cf. Martin, ‘Formal Consequence in Scotus and Ockham: Towards an account of Scotus’ logic,’ in Solère and Sondag et al., Duns Scot à Paris, 117-50. Lectura I 11.7: ‘In hac quaestione discordant graeci vario modo a latinis.’ See DS 227. See Lectura I 11.7, referring to Grosseteste’s Notula super epistolam Ioannis Damasceni De trisagion to be found in Codex Oxon. Magdal. 192, f. 215rb (Magdalen College, Oxford). Cf. Ordinatio I 11.9.

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Reportatio Parisiensis I-A 11 where Scotus tells us in § 10 that he had found that note by Grosseteste.91 Grosseteste points out that the Greeks accept that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son, while the Latins believe that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son.92 Duns stresses that the Greek Fathers are not considered to be heretics. The filioque is an article of faith; so the Latins cannot be heretics either. A small mistake in principles is at stake. Presently, the proposals of Greek patristic theology are rather popular in Western trinitarian theology.93 At the same time, the true contents of thirteent-century Trinitarian theology, and especially the ramifications of necessary theology, are generally over­looked.94 The divine persons are equal and equally powerful. They are also in every person (pe­richorèsis or circumincessio), as the great medieval theologians accept, but what constitutes the divine person? After our trinitarian tour we again arrive at the crucial question how person and relation are related, as is entailed by what Lectura I 2.165 states: Whatever principle is a productive one in whatever it is, on the basis of its own content, it is a productive principle according to the way it is in that entity.95 2.7

The Constitution of Divine Persons

The conciliar creed underlines that the Holy Spirit is together worshiped and glorified with the Father and the Son.96 Liturgical equality presupposes 91

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Reportatio Parisiensis I-A 11.10 in Wolter and Bychkov (eds.), Reportatio Parisiensis I-A 408: ‘Inveni tamen notulam Lincolniensis, Super Epistolam de Trisagio in fine.’ This finding must have taken place in the Oxonian studium. See Torrance, The Trinitarian Faith, and Trinitarian Perspectives. See Van den Brink, ‘En van de Zoon? Overwegingen bij de uitgang van de Heilige Geest,’ in A. Baars, G.C. den Hertog, A. Huijgen and H.G.L. Peels (eds.), Charis, 36-44. The notable exception is Nico den Bok. See his Communicating the most High, Introduction: One Person or three Persons, chapter 1: Positions in contemporary trinitarian theology (17-52), and chapter 10: Richard’s position: Summary and Evaluation (431-96), especially: Conclusion: One Person, three Personae (477-96). On Lectura I 2.165, see § 2.3. See Lectura I 31. Cf. Lectura I 27.53: Word (Verbum) expresses the proper characteristic of the Person of the Son, since just this notion includes as such that it is brought forth from complete resources of knowledge, since God the Father enjoys complete resources of knowledge. Cf. DPhil §§ 4.4.4-4.4.5 and §§ 13.4-13.5. See Kelly, Early Christian Creed­s, 33844.

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ontological equality. The Persons are equal and they are related to one another, but before we can discuss their relations, one must pose the preliminary question of what the word person means with Duns Scotus. First of all, person is a word designating something real, a word of first intention, and not of second intention as Duns clearly points out in Lectura I 23 and Ordinatio I 23.4-16. A Person is adorable and we worship the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. What is at stake is the reality of faith. Moreover, person, in the sense of divine Person, is a categorical term. God the Father, or the Son, is not the person; God the Father is a person and God the Son is a person: A person is something which is common to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit which numbers in a threefold way in them, and this is expressed by the noun person or existent.97 Being a person is what they have in common, but sharing the divine nature is not common in this sense. There are not three Gods. The divine persons number three, but the divine nature is this unique nature enjoying incommunicable existence.98 Communicability of something can be the kind of communicability by which more subjects have it according to the genus-species system, or the kind of communicability by which matter shares a form. Both kinds of communicability are excluded by the incommunicability of a divine person, for person expresses ultimate existence; hence, a person is an ultimate existent. [...] Person signifies the incommunicability of something that exists having a cognitive nature.99 Duns Scotus builds on the discovery made by Richard of Saint Victor by constructing a definition which applies both at the trinitarian concept and the anthropological concept of a person. The semantic apects of the term ‘persona’ are complex, but the complications caused by the process of dogma formation are even more so. One of the 97

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Lectura I 23.16: ‘Est aliquid commune Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto, quod tripliciter numeratur in eis, et hocexprimitur nomine personae vel subsistentis.’ Cf. Lectura I 23.12: ‘Intentio secunda est relatio rationis, et non quaecumque, sed relatio rationis pertinens ad actum intellectus, qui est componere et dividere.’ Cf. Lectura I 23.16-17, and 25 and 28. Lectura I 23.17: ‘Persona dicit ultimatam subsistentiam; unde persona est ultimum subsistens. [...] Persona significat incommunicabilita­tem subsistentis in natura intellectuali.’ This definition is based on Richard of Saint Victor, De Trinitate iv cap. 21, cited by Duns in Lectura I 23.16. Ordinatio I 23.15 adds a critical note on Boethius’ definition.

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most pressing difficulties in trinitarian theology is the relation between Person and the notional relations. What does a divine Person constitute? In fact, the modern notion of person plays a decisive part in the doctrine of God and in trinitarian theology, but the theological notions of Person in the doctrine of the Trinity and in Christology are much older than the common notion of person applied to humans. They have been crucial in the historical evolution of the philosophical concept of a person, but in thirteenth-century theology, the theological notion of a Person still dominated. Duns Scotus discusses the constitution of divine Persons in Lectura I 26 and in Ordinatio I 26. 2.7.1 Lectura I 26 Lectura I 26 shows that Duns himself wrote the Lectura. It was his personal notebook: The third theory is Peter’s, the son of John. I left off writing it down because of a certain affair.100 This evidence refutes Balic’s original view that the Lectura embodies notes taken by students. Here, we meet Duns’ original contributions delivered at Oxford. There is no need to guess what Duns Scotus might have taught on the constitution of the divine Persons in Oxford.101 It is to be found in the Lectura. It has even to be observed that the Thomist author of the Liber propugnatorius asserted that Duns not only defended his own theory as probabilis, but that he also was forced to retract his view. He also claims that Duns’ appeal to an antiquus doctor was not identified by him. In Oxford, John Duns had not concluded that the absolute property theory was probabilis, but probabilior: It seems to me that this theory is the strongest one, but I do not subscribe to it.102

100

101 102

Lectura I 26.42: ‘Tertia opinio est Petri Ioannis, quam dimisi scribere propter causam certam.’ Peter, the son of John, is Peter Olivi. See DPhil 43-4 and 134. Duns does not discuss Olivi’s contribution and skips it altogether in Ordinatio I 26. On Peter Olivi, see Putallaz, ‘Peter Olivi,’ in Gracia and Noone (eds.), A Companion to Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 516-23. See Opera Omnia VI 1*-2*. Compare DS 228. Lectura I 26.66: ‘Hanc opinionem videtur mihi esse probabiliorem, eam tamen non assero.’

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Originally, Balic tried to identify who the antiquus doctor might have been.103 It is clear that Balic paniced when he got confronted with seemingly damaging evidence, but to my mind this panic was more inspired by the tensions and conflicts of the 1920s and the 1930s than by the situation of the 1290s at Oxford. There is simply no trace of doctrinal tensions for Duns in Oxford, and the Thomist opponent has surely overplayed his hand. For the most part, the treatment in Ordinatio I 26 runs parallel to what Duns expounded in Lectura I 26, but there are many differences to be observed when we investigate Reportatio Parisiensis I 26. The crucial dilemma was already clear from Lectura I 26. A subject is constituted by what it is in itself – by its own identity. Duns appreciates the Oxonian tradition which applies this basic ontological feature at the theology of divine persons. Nevertheless, Duns makes also clear that there is no absolute difference at stake – in spite of the traditional preference for the relational approach (Augustine, Boethius). Both approaches are only incompatible if the relational approach implies that persons are only constituted by relations, but there is no tradition of the church that they are only constituted by relations.104 In this light we can also consider the alternative approach: Persons are not constituted by relations, but by their independent features. In this way, the three persons in God are in the first place absolute, but, conse­quently, it is relations by which they are related.105 Here, the issue of constitution is not simply an issue of either ... , or ... . If, according to the non-relational approach, it is said that God the Father is constituted by his own identity F, then it is also impossible that F does not entail that his relations to the Son and the Holy Spirit are necessary. The other way around, the relations of the Father to the Son and the Holy Spirit entail what 103

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See Opera Omnia VI 10*-24* where the analysis eventually concludes that he must have been Bonaventure, but Bonaventure is also mentioned without concealing in Lectura I 26.43. Lectura I 26.55: ‘Unde non invenitur traditum ab Ecclesia quod constituuntur tantum relationibus, nec hoc invenitur in Decretis, nec fuit declaratum in concilio aliquo.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 26.70-71. Lectura I 26.54: ‘Personae non constituuntur relationibus, sed aliquibus absolutis; et ita tres personae in divinis sunt primo absolutae, consequenter autem relationes quibus referuntur.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 26.59.

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God the Father as the first divine person is in himself (that is, absolutely as a term considered). Therefore, Duns can say finally that if someone likes to maintain the common view, he can say that a relation constitutes a person so that the relation is a reality which is as such related to a term. The reality of the relation is based on the divine nature so that it constitutes a divine person.106 2.7.2 The Strategy of Lectura I 26 The methodological case of Lectura I 26 is a remarkable and even a unique one. Usually, John Duns presents straightforward solutions of the issues and dilemmas he deals with. Only when he is clearly impressed by the degree of complexity of the question under consideration he does develop an alternative methodology. A special example is found in Lectura II 1.91-154. Duns­ discusses whether the created world be eternal. He presents two fundamentally different options and he analyzes and criticizes the arguments in favor of the one option in terms of the arguments in favor of the other one, and vice versa. Eventually, no final solution is found.107 We meet a variant of such a procedure in Lectura I 26. Four theological theories are mentioned to be discussed: (1) the theory of Praepositinus (§§7-9 // Ordinatio I 26.6-8) which is the first theory; (2) the common theory (§§15-24 // Ordinatio I 26.15-25) which is the second one; the theory of Olivi (§42): the third theory, and (4) the Bonaventu­re/Grosseteste approach (§§43-44 // Ordinatio I 26.56) which is the fourth theory. After having paid attention to the contents of these theories, with the exception of the third, he critically deals with the others in §§10-14 (// Ordinatio I 26.10-13), §§25-41 (Ordinatio I 26.32-55) and §§45-53 (// Ordinatio I 26.58-63), respectively. The first theory is based on the semantic idea that concrete and abstract terms have the same meaning. For this reason Father and fatherhood have the same signification: Personal notions are absolutely simple. So there is no problem at all.108 This semantic view is an instance of a one dimension philosophy of language rejected by Duns altogether.109 The second theory is the common one originating from Augustine and Boethius,110 and defends the thesis that the persons are constituted and distinguished by relations of origin.111 Richard 106 107 108 109 110

111

See Lectura I 26.67. See § 4.6. Compare DS 163-4. The same policy is found in Ordinatio II 1.95-178. See Lectura I 26.7-14, where the contribution of Praepositinus is refuted. See DPhil chapter 4. Cf. § 3.5. Duns Scotus is sympathetic to the definition of Richard of Saint Victor. Richard’s alternative definition implies the rejection of Boethius’ definition. See also Den Bok, Communicating the Most High, 204-18, and cf. Kasper, The God of Jesus Christ, 280-2. Lectura I 26.15 (15-41): ‘Personae distinguuntur et constituuntur per relationes originis.’

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Cross aptly terms this option the relation theory. Duns only mentions a third theory, namely the contribution by Peter Olivi. The fourth theory offers a new line of trinitarian thought represented by William of Paris, Bonaventure, and Robert Grosseteste. This alternative, aptly termed by Cross the absolute property theory, suggests that the persons in God are not constituted by a relation, but by something standing on itself, something absolute.112 Duns states that the second and the fourth theories seem to exclude each other in a special way. Thus the question arises what we have to think of each of them. After having explained what we have to think of the absolute property theory (Lectura I 26.54-7) Duns weighs the arguments in favor of the relation theory by holding on to the alternative fourth theory (Lectura I 26.58-66).113 In this surprising way he explores the possibilities and the limitations of the absolute property theory. After having indicated how the relation theory can be sustained (Lectura I 26.67) he explores the possibilities and the limitations of the relation theory and expounds how the counter-arguments against this theory can be handled by opting for that theory itself (Lectura I 26.68-75).114 Although John Duns accepts the common theory, no final solution is offered. So there is a clear stance, but still no evident solution. The clear stance of John Duns is evident from the second half of the following sentence and in Lectura I 26.66 his epistemic appraisal is also clear: It seems to me that this theory (namely, the absolute property theory) is the strongest one, but I do not subscribe to it. The direction of Duns Scotus’ personal research is evident: his approach means that he tries to integrate the possibilities of the absolute property theory into the tension and the elasticity of the common one, whereas he also tries to disprove the counter-arguments against the relation theory on the basis of its own stren­gth. The way it can be done has a natural ring. The relation constitutes the person so that the relation is the reality which is related to the end term (terminus). The whole of this reality is grounded in the essence of God (Lectura I 26.67). Semantically, Duns’ basic point is that a relation presupposes that which is related (Lectura I 26.26 and 68). In general, there is no problem, since 112

113 114

Lectura I 26.43 (43-53): ‘Personae in divinis non constituuntur per relationem, sed aliquo absoluto.’ See Cross, Duns Scotus, 65-6. Consult Wetter, Die Trinitätslehre des Scotus, 270352. See Lectura I 26.58-66: ‘Ad argumenta pro secunda opinione tenendo opinionem quartam.’ See Lectura I 26.68-75: ‘Ad argumenta facta contra secundam opinionem tenendo eam.’

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a relation does not constitute the individual which enjoys that relation, because a relation is not entailed by the individual in most cases. The trinitarian tension is elicited, since here the relation does constitute, for the relation is itself a necessary property.115 2.7.3 The Systematic Field of Forces The battle field is now clear. The first theory has no semantic attraction whatsoever for Scotus. The third theory cannot be discussed for disciplinary reasons regarding the cause of Olivi.116 Moreover, the field of forces of the second and fourth alternatives is almost unique. The traditional approach has difficulties of its own, but its status blocks an adequate way out. In Lectura I 26 and Ordinatio I 26, Duns Scotus considers the theory that the divine persons are constituted by non-relational (absolute) properties as preferable to the theory that the divine persons are constituted by their relations and are identical with the relations to one another. The crucial point is made in Lectura I 26.54: The persons are not constituted by relations, but by entities standing on themsel­ves. In this way the three persons in God are primarily independent, but conse­quently they are relations by which they are related.117 Friedrich Wetter observed that the trinitarian issue of the constitution of the divine persons is to be considered the most difficult problem of theology.118 The notion of trinitarian constitution itself is not easy to define. The relation to creation cannot constitute who and what God is. The divine persons cannot be constituted by God’s relation to his world. So the constitution of a divine person can only be accounted for in terms of necessary relations and necessary propositions, explaining states of affairs on a necessary level. Here, the basic argument of Lectura I 28.49 offers helpful suggestions:

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Lectura I 26.68: ‘Quando arguitur contra secundam opinionem quod relatio praesupponit id quod refertur, dicendum quod hoc verum est quando relatio non constituit id quod refertur, sed est adventicia (sicut est in creaturis); sed in divinis relatio constituit, secundum hanc opinionem, et ideo praesupponit relatum.’ Olivi’s academic career suddenly came to an end in 1283, although he was rehabilitated in 1287. See Putallaz, ‘Peter Olivi,’ in Gracia and Noone (eds.), A Companion to Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 516-23, and on the cause of Olivi, see Burr, The Persecution of Olivi. Lectura I 26.54: ‘Personae non constituuntur relationibus, sed aliquibus absolutis. Et ita tres personae in divinis sunt primo absolutae, consequenter autem relationes quibus referuntur.’ Wetter, Die Trinitätslehre des Scotus, 283.

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In the Father there are only the divine essence and not being begotten, the spiration-action and his relation to the second person. However, the Father is not constituted as the first person by the divine essence, since it is common to the three persons, nor by being unbegotten, as already has been proven,119 nor by the spiration-action, since it is common to him and the Son. Therefore, he is constituted by the relation which is related to the second person.120 God the Father is God and shares in the divine nature. In him there are his innascibi­lity, the spiration act and his relation to the second person. However, the Father is not constituted by God’s essence, since the essence is common to the three persons, nor by his innascibility. We conclude that all these aspects elicit necessary truths. This also means that all these aspects are their own necessary and sufficient conditions. We move on at an strict systematic level of necessary constituents, but this fact does not solve the constitution issue itself, for this issue is also more specific. Moreover, there are no important differences between Lectura I 26 and Ordinatio I 26, although in Ordinatio I (1302) Duns Scotus is even more reluctant to cut the knot.121 In Lectura III 1.180-198 Duns again returns to the question whether a person is necessarily constituted by a relational characteristic. Here, his appoach is again remarkable. He starts with arguments in favor of the thesis that a person is constituted by a relation, but his own position is usually found in the sed contra, but there is no sed contra in this article. First, there are five counter-arguments which defend the relational nature of being a person, but they do so in an indirect way by attacking the theory that a person is constituted by something absolute (181-186). The second series of arguments refutes these attacks (187-197). This pattern implies an implicit preference for the absolute property theory, but Duns concludes in Lectura III 1.198 (1303):

119 120

121

See Lectura I 28.39-42. Lectura I 28.49: ‘In Patre non sunt nisi essentia et ingenitum et spiratio-actio et relatio eius ad secundam personam. Sed Pater prima persona non constituitur essentiâ, quia communis est tribus personis, nec ingenito, sicut prius probatum, nec spiratione-actione, quia illa communis est sibi et Filio. Igitur constituitur relatione quae est ad secundam personam.’ See Wetter, Die Trinitätslehre des Scotus, 283-315: ‘Die Konsti­tution der Personen nach Lectura prima und Ordinatio I.’

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These arguments (namely the arguments in favor of the relation theory) are not valid, but the texts taken from the Saints seem to express that the persons are constituted by relations – more than by absolute factors.122 2.7.4 The Explanation of a Personal Dilemma The way Duns Scotus identifies the dilemma of the constitution of the divine Persons is without any parallel in his works. The point is not that his solution cannot immedia­tely derived from the traditional sources, for this phenomenon is rather general and is not an embarrassing one, but that the traditional alternative seems to be confirmed by official statements of faith. Duns Scotus states that the standard approach holds that the divine persons are constituted by relations. How is this theological viewpoint based on official statements of faith to be explained? Richard Cross offers the following explanation: The standard reason for holding that the persons are constituted by relations is that such a theory is necessary in order to avoid the heresy of Arianism – the belief that the Son is different in essence or kind from the Father, and hence less than the Father. Augustine [...] held that the three persons are equal, and therefore the same in kind or essence. [...] There can be neither essential nor accidental differences between the divine persons. But the three persons can differ in their relations, since being related does not imply being changeable. Equally, the Father can be always related to the Son, and the Son always related to the Father, without this implying that the Father and Son differ in essence.123 It is clear that Arius’ Christology excludes the doctrine that the Son is of the same essence (homoousios) as the Father. However, it should be observed that the proposi­tion that the Father and the Son are the same in essence is not synonymous with the proposition that the Son is homoousios with the Father. The latter proposition does not entail that the Father is homoousios with the Son according to the original meaning of homoousios, whereas, on the contrary, the first proposition entails that the Father is of the same essence as the Son. However, it is clear that the Western line of trinitarian thinking holds that the three divine persons are equal and the same in essence – they share the

122 123

Lectura III 1.198: ‘Rationes istae non concludunt. Verumtamen auctoritates sanctorum magis videntur sonare quod personae constituuntur per relationes quam per absoluta.’ Cross, Duns Scotus, 65. Cf. Cross, Duns Scotus on God, chapter 17: ‘The Constitution of a Divine Person.’

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same natura Dei.124 If there cannot be ‘essential’ differences between the divine persons, there cannot be accidental differences either. If so, the Son could lose his sonship. However, there must be differences, for without differences there cannot be different persons. The persons have relations to one another; so the relations must be essentially different. Nevertheless, this line of argumentation has a paradoxical ring. The divine persons enjoy the same divine nature. So, in terms of the Aristotelian theory of categories, the differences between the divine persons are not to be located on the level of substantia. Then it seems that we have look for an account of the differences on the level of the accidents, and the only serious candidate can be the category of relation. However, there cannot be accidental differences between the divine persons as well, and relation is originally an accident. Moreover, if there are relational differences, then presumably these relational differences are based on and grounded in the absolute ‘natures’ and identities of those who are related to one another. Duns Scotus accepts the doctrine that the divine persons are distinguished by their relations of origin, but he also sees that the absolute property theory is in some sense preferable to the relation theory. His fundamental point defending the absolute property theory runs parallel to his rejection of the first theory which denies the basic distinction between the individual itself as bearer of properties, on the one hand, and the properties, on the other hand. Scotian semantics does not equate the levels of subject and predicate as Aristotelian semantics tends to do. According to Scotian semantics, bearers of relations that are standing by themselves enjoy priority over relations. This basic Fregean struc­t­ure entails that individuals enjoy priority over properties, although this was still not perfectly clear for Scotus. However, Duns Scotus turns the ancient universals approach upside down and this ontological revolution completes the emancipation from a form (eidos)-based approach. Moreover, the relational properties in question – paternity, sonship, filiatio, filioque – do not seem to be sufficient to distinguish one person from another. Scotus’ approach is argumentatively sharp as usual, but in some cases traditional dilemmas cannot be entirely solved by systematic means. They also need some historical considerations. When we observe them in the light of their historical development, we discover conceptual and theoretical shifts which can only be handled with the help of modern historical investigations. However, historical consciousness is simply missing in medieval analyses, for there was no historical consciousness. Historical innovation on a scientific level took only place in the second quarter of the nineteenth century. Moreover, 124

See Lectura I 31 and Ordinatio I 31, and cf. Augustine, De Trinitate v.

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ancient though­t, including patristic theology, did not possess a viable theory of relations.125 Of course, one accepted what one called relations – so-called adsituations –, but such relations were seen as monadic properties. In every philosophical system and in every religion, we meet many well-known and crucial terms, but the original and old meanings are quite different from the modern ones and now they usuallly embody different notions.126 2.8

Epilogue

In the modern era new topical dilemmas of Trinitarian Theology arose. In the course of the nineteenth century, Western thought lost its classic profile, built up in a history of more than fifteen centuries. Most systems of Christian eighteenth-century thought were still rooted in contingency thought,127 although necessitarian systems also appeared, for instance Hol­bach’s­ Systè­me de la nature (1770). In the course of the nineteenth century, the necessitarian model took over in most areas of systematic thought. Scotism and nominalism eclipsed and even the description and analysis of their historical identity amounted to straightf­or­ward caricature. Within this context, the doctrine of God came into a crisis. Pantheistic and unitarian tendencies threate­ned trinitarian theology. The social tendencies of twentieth-century trinitarian theology did not cure these illnesses. If a social doctrine of the Triune God introduces a social Trinity, the divine persons are compared to the members of a family. All this may be cosy and attractive psychologically, but it still introduces an ontological plurality in God. Then, God is not monopersonal, but pluripersonal. However, a newly styled polytheistic tendency in Christianity is not apt to remedy unitarian and non-personalist designs of the new necessitarian philosophies.128 The distinction between the essential and the ‘economical’ (salvation historical) Trinity is fundamental. We may ask ourselves on what level we can say that the Trinity is the history of divine love. This is perfectly true in terms of the 125 126 127

128

On kinds of relations, see DPhil § 4.11 and § 6.6. We meet the same word, but not the same worth (cf. Obbink: the same ‘woorden’ (words), but not the same ‘waarden’ (‘worths,’ values)). Early modern Church dogmatics according to the Catholic, Reformed, Lutheran, Anglican and Independent traditions belonged still to contingency thought, and the philosophy of the school of German Pietist philosophy (Crucius) was so as well, but not the philosophy of the school of Wolff. See Den Bok, Communicating the Most High, passim, and especially Introduction, chapters 1, 2 and 10, and Conclusion.

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economical Trinity. This truth is surrounded by questions as what the trinitarian language precisely means: natura, substantia, processio, persona, subsistentia, relatio, subiectum, suppositum, and so on. The central tensions regarding the Christian faith and the doctrine of the Trinity are precisely on the level of the essential or immanent Trinity. This feature is stressed by the fact that all other religions (including the three other monotheisms) consider the concept of the Trinity as inherently and necessarily false: God cannot be a triune God. However, the history of trinitarian theology shows quite a different picture. Its upshot is that the anti-trinitarian approach is necessarily self-contradictory: God can only be Triune, he is the Trinity, but the development of theology had to cover a very long distance running from biblical faith and ancient thought to the full-fledged explications of Duns Scotus. If there is a structural difference between nature and Person, the general question needs to be asked: what engenders the specific difference? The divine nature is the personal and individual characteristic of the best possible person and the complete or perfect knowledge of God is the best possible knowledge of the best possible person. If we take this complete knowledge of God as a starting point, we have to confirm the essential knowledge of God about himself and of all possibilities. This primary knowledge of God entailed by the essence of God does not explain that God knows the complete history of the factual world (Actua). This maximal, factual knowledge of God presupposes the divine will, which selects Actua from the infinite set of possible worlds. These two essential dimensions of knowing and willing are traditionally called the two processions by nature (secundum naturam or secundum intellectum) and by will (secundum voluntatem). A trinitarian procession or relation is a possibility condition of divine activity and a Person is the constitutive subject of a kind of personal activity which entails eternally possible actions of perfection. The theory of the three divine persons constitutes the theory of the best possible person God himself is. Duns Scotus’ trinitarian theology takes decisive steps towards such a theology of God Triune. The young John Duns was pleasantly surprised by the argumentative power of the foundations of trinitarian theology. Usually, Duns distinguishes between necessary arguments and natural arguments and only natural arguments suffice to deliver demon­strations or demonstrative proofs. The traditional point of view considers the doctrine of the Trinity not demonstrable for adherents of alternative and competitive ideologies. In Ordinatio I 2 Duns does not repeat the assessment of Lectura I 2.165:

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This proposition (namely, the basic principle concerning producere) would not be denied, if it were to have been written down in meta­ physics.129 Here, the notion of producing is such a strong starting point that the theology of the Trinity can invade the territory of ontology and philosophy. Conquering metaphysics and ontology would be a great success for any doctrine proper to the Christian faith. The arguments of Ordinatio I 2.201-211 follow the same deductive pattern. There are the productions which are distinct and enjoy their own identity according to the formal aspects (rationes formales) of the productions themselves and there are only two of them. Duns sees that this piece of church dogmatics can be defended rationally, in the same way that the strongest parts of philosophical metaphysics can be demonstrated: Two models need to be discerned. If we concentra­te on the personal relation aRp, then there are two logical relations possible between R and p. In fact, Duns already tackled the celebrated questions of Kirk by putting the property of producing and, in particular, the consistency of this property in the center of his approach. He observes that we have knowledge and will as two perfect principles of essential activity. He also concludes that the Christian point of view only allows for two produced Persons. Duns happily sees that here faith and reason coincide. In Lectura I 10 Duns even moves forward: There are only two perfect principles of essential activity, though we humans boast more principles, but in virtue of their imperfection. What might Duns mean by this? Are, for instance, po­wer/potentia and ac­ting/doing perhaps also principles of activity? It seems to be so, but according to Duns potentia does not add to the arsenal of what God can do. Potentia is either a matter of possibility, or an executive faculty. What God can do boils down to what is possible for Him to will. God can perform anything, if it is possible that He wills it to be performed. On the level of executing a performance, God just performs something, if He wills to do so. The counterpart of the term to proceed (procedere) is the term to produce or to bring forth (producere): If the Son proceeds from the Father, then the Father produces the Son. Likewise, if the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son, then the Father and the Son produce the Holy Spirit. Duns spells out the procession of the Holy Spirit by drawing on the role of the will in the life of a person. The duality of knowledge (secundum intellectum) and will (secundum voluntatem) is what matters in order to articulate what persons are. There are knowledge and will in God and no other principles of personal activity, if the 129

See Lectura I 2.165: ‘Haec propositio si esset scripta in metaphy­sica, non negaretur.’ See also § 2.3 and cf. DPhil §§ 13.3-13.5.

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agent is a best possible agent. These basic personal activities are not mental metaphors, and they are not based on anthropologi­cal analogies, for they are essential to being a person. Such an approach has nothing to do with comparisons to subjectivity or a psychology of the divine character, but everything with ontology and its logic. There are only two processions, for there can only be two processions. Therefore, there can only be three persons. There can only be two processions, since for God there are only two constitutive characteristics of personhood, namely knowing and willing. Contingent reality has to be followed, when we know it, or to be constituted, when we will that it is so and so. The two basic constituents of knowledge and will are the only constitutive characteristics of divine personhood (simpliciter perfectiones), because God does not need any additional faculties of action.130 2.8.1 Divine Personhood and Person Concerning the internal structure of divine personhood the ontological level and the level of language have to be discerned. The doctrine of the Trinity could be developed in abstract terms, but the historical reality of trinitarian language is quite the opposite to that abstract level, because it is rooted in colorful biblical speech, originally marked by natural, even biological religious language. Duns Scotus still uses the rich language of Christian tradition, but in the meantime a strong demythologization has taken place, for the language of salvation history is en­riched by the language of the necessary theology of Scotus, which is the key to the creative development of Western thought. Richard Cross sets out a creative formulation that helps us to see the point: Why should Scotus suppose that these productive acts result in persons? [...] The items produced will be persons: instances of the divine essence.131 Constitution concerns a defining characteristic without embodying a definition. We term it a demarcating characteristic and a demarcating characteristic is unique. Such specifications concern both a divine person and his constitutive relations. Even in this extremely specific way the Scotian dilemma cannot be determined. The crucial point is whether the distinction between an indi-

130 131

See DPhil §§ 16.3-16.5. Cross, Duns Scotus, 64-5. Cf. Lectura I 10.7 and Ordinatio I 10.9. Cf. Van den Brink, ‘En van de Zoon? Overwegingen bij de uitgang van de Heilige Geest,’ in A. Baars, G.C. den Hertog, A. Huijgen and H.G.L. Peels (eds.), Charis, 36-44.

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vidual a and a property F also holds in trinitarian theology, although here subjects only enjoy necessary characteristics.132 There is a nest of trinitarian issues which could not handled adequately by medieval theology, because the historical background of the language of theology by necessity escaped their attention. There was no historical consciousness of the development of theology and the language of theology, because there was no such historical consciousness before the middle of the nineteenth century. In Lectura I 28 Duns asks whether unbegotten and innascibility are adequate and constitutive properties of God the Father.133 The divine persons are not constituted by God’s relation to his creation. Many terms of the doctrine of God originally stemmed from ancient religious layers of thought, but the stages of cosmogony and theogony had been overcome for centuries, in particular in Augustine’s De Trinitate. The critical moment shows itself in the negative impact which terms like ingenitus and innascibilis display. What is at stake is the concept of God itself. According to Duns Scotus, unbegotten (ingenitus) is a proper, but not a constitutive predicate of God the Father. Now, this language is embedded within trinitarian language: the Father and the Holy Spirit are unbegotten. Being genitus is negated for God the Father, just as it is also denied of God himself, since the eternal generation is denied of the Holy Spirit: In another way, unbegotten is said what is not produced by someone else and in this way unbegotten is the same as not-produced; and the Saints use this word in this way.134 But this negation goes only as far as it is a negative term, and, for this reason, no constitutive predicate is at stake. This is a final move in the complex process of demythologization of the theological language, when these old terms are introduced into the formation of the theoretical structures of productio and processio. 132 133

134

See Vos, ‘Gottes Dreieinigkeit und die Kontingenz,’ in Schneider (ed.), Fons Salutis Trinitas, 59-78, and Veldhuis, ‘Gott ist die Liebe,’ in Schneider (ed.), Fons Salutis Trinitas, 101-13. Ingenitus means: not yet born, and in biblical language this predicate gets an absolute ring: unbegotten. Such language illustrates the religious revolution by which biblical faith freed itself from the entang­lements of polytheistic and naturalistic (even quasi-biological) language. Lectura I 28.18: ‘Alio modo, dicitur ingenitum quod non producitur ab alio, et sic ingenitum est idem quod improductum; et sic utuntur sancti isto vocabulo.’ Cf. Lectura I 28.16-17 and 24-25.

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2.8.2 Conclusion Duns Scotus radically demythologizes traditional trinitarian language, rounding off a process of centuries. His doctrine of the Trinity is an analysis of the structure of divine personhood. God’s personhood (in the modern sense of ‘person’) must enjoy a specific structure for it to be possible to perform activities which are claimed to be individual for God. The trinitarian concept of God has to be derived a priori from the structures of being a person and personal possibilities of divine action.

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Chapter 3

Jesus Christ 3.1

Introduction

The life and works of Jesus Christ decisively transcend the measure of human condition. There are realistic limitations to what Jesus did and could do – limits set by human nature, his human individuality, and the range of bodily possibilities. The historical Jesus Christ was not a magician. He was not the superhuman figure of the non-canonical gospels. Nevertheless, there are no boundaries set to what He actually did within the range of his human existence. The facts of his life and works essentially transcend the fact of excellent human life. New Testa­ment idiom mirrors this finite history that is open to infinity. It enthusiastically applies the language of the one true Lord of the Old Testament to this Son of David, the Son of Mary, the mother of God. Holy language applies to the Boy of Bethlehem. Christmas embodies the unity of King and kid.1 No confession was more alien to the ancient mind than the resounding Maranatha. Mary Magdalene’s Rabboni was as passionate as it was beyond imagi-nation and unexpected, indeed as unexpected and surprising as the Incarnation had been itself.2 His mysterious birth into human existence and history was wedded to the miracle of the Old Testament faith in the one true God. It cannot be the fruit of creative Christian imagination for the simple reason that such Christians did not exist before the year 30 A.D. Such a language of faith could not have existed, before God expressed his own feelings and his own heart, his own will and his own ideas in human existence. The ideal of the fides quaerens intellectum is the manger of the most daunting areas of theology: the doctrine of the Trinity and christology. Theology accepted the challenge of rational criticism made by philosophy and this response was not a move of an isolated intel­lectual within the church, but orthodoxy itself has become philosophical. Classic theology appropriated a philosophical style. The new phenomenon of medieval scholasticism enjoys a 1 The most tremendous formulations are Luther’s, for instance, to be taken from his hymn Gelobet seist du, Jesu Christ: ‘In majesty God’s own Son lies, in a crib He cries, a human child of flesh and blood, who is eternally God and good.’ 2 Thomas’ confession in John 20:28: My Lord and my God also summarizes the Gospel of the Early Church. It is the counterpart of Mary Magdalene’s Rabboni in John 20:16.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004360235_004

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great importance for theo-logy, and, particularly, for christology.3 A fine example is met in Anselm’s revolutionary renewal of the doctrines of incarnation and reconciliation in the second book of his Cur Deus homo? (1098). Gillian Evans has pointed out the forces of change in the theological climate during the last decades of the eleventh century.4 These forces of change also put in the center the issue of change itself. Christian contingency thought also changed the nature of christology in the course of the twelfth and the thirteenth centuries. A new style of why?-question arises and new why?-questions were then asked. We meet the new meaning of why? (cur?) in the title of Cur Deus homo? itself and, for example, also in the famous issue of the motive of incarnation: Would Christ also have come, if Adam were not to have sinned?5 Why would Christ have come into a world without sin? A new way of thinking breaks through. Systematic thinking becomes hypothetical and the ars obligatoria, so important for Duns Scotus, will radicalize this line of thought in the course of the thirteenth century.6 We cannot say that Peter Lombard belonged to the School of Peter Abelard, but he took Abelard’s questions very seriously­. The Salvator takes the place of pride in an Augustinian form in his Sententiae.7 Oxford radicalized the Augustinian main tradition and the supralapsarian christology of Robert Grosseteste lent a new impulse and splendor to it. Such influences were generally important for the Oxonian Franciscans.8 Around 1300, there was still a great amount of christological groundwork to be done. Only in 1303 Duns Scotus embarked on a Sententiae III course,9 although after the contingency revolution in the mid-1290s an astonishing continuity had already resulted. Lectura III evidently continues the direction of Lectura II. After 1303, Duns Scotus invests a lot of efforts into Ordinatio III and Ordinatio IV. He especially focused on christology, ethics and political theory. Some comments in Lectura Oxoniensis III (1303) indicate that he did fully acknow-ledge the weight and impact of christological issues and dilemmas. The initiative of the autumn of 1303 testifies to the urgency of the christologi3 See DPhil chapters 14 and 16, and Vos, ‘Scholasticism and Reformation,’ in Van Asselt and Dekker (eds.), Reformation and Scholasticism, 99-119. 4 Evans, Anselm and talking about God, chapter 9: ‘Forces of change.’ Compare Evans, Anselm and a New Generation, part 1: ‘The change of scene,’ and § 3.3: ‘A theology of change.’ 5 See Pelikan, The Christian Tradition III, chapter 3. 6 See DPhil chapter 5: Ars obligatoria. 7 See DPhil § 1.5: ‘Bachelor of Divinity.’ 8 Consult the historical survey by Bissen, ‘La tradition sur la prédestination absolue de JésusChrist du VII e au XIV e siècles,’ La France franciscaine 22 (1939) 9-34, and McElrath (ed.), Franciscan Christology. 9 See DPhil § 2.3.1: on John Duns Scotus’ second stay at Oxford.

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cal project. Reporta­tio Parisiensis III (winter 1305) deals with many additonal problems and Ordinatio III is based on Lectura III. The core of these issues returns in the dense text of Quodlibet xix (Advent 1306), which shows that many shared the feeling of urgency. So, during the last stages of his short life, Duns Scotus was occupied with christological issues. Section 3.2 delivers some background information and § 3.3 is devoted to the specific nature of Duns Scotus’ christology, including its supralapsarian orientation, and § 3.4 deals with the core issue of the faith in Christ’s two natures. Duns Scotus’ theory of reconciliation shows a unique treatment of Anselm’s Cur Deus homo. The approach of Anselm based on the maintenance of consistency is linked with true contingency (§ 3.5). § 3.6 takes account of the difficulties of adoptionism. The final section § 3.7: ‘Outlook’ summarizes the perspectives of Scotian christology. 3.2

Some Background Information

According to the theology of the Church, Jesus Christ has both divine and human natures. This union of the divine nature and the human nature in Christ is called the hypostatic union. The crucial teaching of the Council of Chalcedon (451) runs as follows: Following the holy fathers, we unite in teaching all men to confess the one and only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. This selfsame one is perfect both in deity and also in huma­nity. This selfsame one is is also actually God and actually man. [...] We also teach that we apprehend this one and only Christ-Son, Lord, only-begotten – in two natures. [...] They are not divided or cut into two prosoopa, but are together the one and only and onlybegotten Logos of God, the Lord Jesus Christ.10 The main channels mediating a knowledge of christological dogma to the medievals were the creeds, Hilary of Poitiers (about 315-367) and Augustine, Boethius, Gregory the Great, and eventually John of Damascus. Godfrey of Poitiers, and other late twelfth-century theologians and William of Auxerre took as the point of departure for their christology that the Word (the second Person of the triune God) contingently assumed the human nature. Human nature is contingently united to the Word (Verbum, Logos). The Word is not necessa­rily man, for necessarily being man would exclude the event of the 10

Leith (ed.), Creeds of the Churches, 35-6.

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incarnation in salvation history according to the philosophy of contingency of these medieval authors. An essential property of God is a necessary property of God, but if God the Son is essentially and necessa­rily man, He cannot become man. There are more crucial issues of christology to be dealt with. The Incarnation is a decisive moment in the ‘biography’ of God. The question: Cur Deus homo? presupposes that God just became man. Polytheistic, pantheistic and atheistic thought, and also Jewish and Islamic theology oppose its possibility on various grounds, but they share the underlying thesis that both incarnation and being incarnate are contradictory concepts for God. In contradistinction to such profound differences, there is a broad consensus among medieval academic authors in Western Christendom. The crucial point is that the causality of the Incarnation is due to the Trinity of divine persons. Likewise, the causality of the actions of God incarnate is due to God Triune. Medieval christology works within the lines set by the standard Augustinian theology of the Trinity. The internal acts of God are divided: they obey the impact of the three divine Persons exclusively. The external actions of God, however, are undivided.11 The external actions of God cannot be actions of one or two of the divine Persons exclusively. God’s contingent deeds are only deeds of the one and the same true God. There are no three agents in God. It is one and the same agent who acts externally. When we say that God the Father creates, we do not mean that only the first Person of the Trinity creates while the other Per­sons are at leisure. When we say that God the Son redeems, we do not mean by it that God the Father does not redeem. The consensus tells us too, that although one of the divine Persons can be incarnate, the divine nature fails to be incarnate. Such a conception of Incarnation is quite impossible, because the divine nature and human nature are both natures. The era under consideration is one where options of extreme nominalism were not prevalent: the divine nature cannot be become human nature just as the nature of an orchid cannot become the nature of a ladybird, but if there are no stable natures, everything can become everything else. The theory of incarnation is intertwined with the doctrine of God. If incarnation is impossible, we need not develop an independent christology. Theology and anthropology will do. Incarnational theology is not about God’s essence, but about God himself. God does not become another individual – a man; He

11

The classic formula runs as follows: ‘Opera ad intra divisa sunt, opera ad extra indivisa sunt.’

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assumes human nature. He participates in human existence and he shares in human action possibilities.12 Incarnation cannot be a necessary process. If the Word is not necessarily man, the Word is contingently man. According to William of Auxerre, the human nature ‘degenerates into an accident.’13 The main christological tradition during the second half of the twelfth and during the thirteenth century saw the relation between a substance and an accident as the model for the hypostatic union. The great exception to this line common throughout the thirteenth century was the cristology of Thomas Aquinas and a small herd of loyal followers.14 On the one hand, the substance-accident model immediately presents itself as a useful intuitive starting point for a model, but, on the other hand, the role of an accident is set by the contents of the traditional theory of a material substance: a material substance is an individual substance in virtue of the substantiality it always has, while, according to the Aristotelian view, it has also individuating accidents elicited by the forces of reality from its passive potentiality. At some times a substance has an accident which it does not possess at other times.15

12

13 14

15

The literature on the systematic aspects of Scotus’ christology is, apart from Cross’s masterly The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, surprisingly limited. See McCord Adams, ‘The Metaphysics of the Incarnation,’ in Frank and Etzkorn (eds.), Essays Honoring Allan Wolter, 21-57, Freddoso, ‘Human Nature, Potency and the Incarnation,’ Faith and Philosophy 3 (1986) 27-53, Burger, Personalität im Horizont absoluter Prädestination, DS (1994) 20116: ‘Jezus Christus’ and Vos, ‘Inkarnation und Reinkarnation,’ in Schneider (ed.), Menschwer­dung Gottes, 62-80. Cross also points out in his The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, 151, that the consensus shows another christological line of thought. Medieval and early modern christology states, in alignme­nt with Greek christology, that ‘it is possible for one divine person to become incarnate without either of the others becoming incarnate.’ William of Auxerre, Summa aurea III 1.3, 3 sol. 2 (see Ribaillier III 20). Consult also Principe, William of Auxerre’s Theology of the Hypostatic Union, 96-100. See Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, chapters 1 and 2, and Wawrykow, ‘Hypostatic Union,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 222-51. Originally, the notion of accident was strictly embedded in the characteristic Aristotelian theory of matter and passive potentiality. In the thirteenth century we see a variety of substance-accident theories, both tributary to Aristotle and yet far away from his actpotency necessitarianism. For an alternative and elaborate theory of properties, see Vos, ‘De theorie van de eigenschappen en de leer van de eigenschappen van God,’ Bijdragen 42 (1981) 75-102, and KN chapter 8.

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If Christ’s human nature is an accidental property of the second person of the Trinity, then it will look as though that person has a passive potency that is actualized at some time. And the medievals were quite clear that God has no passive potentialities – that he is wholly unconditioned.16 So, the union of the divine and human natures cannot be an accident in the simple and traditi­onal Aristotelian sense of the word, for an accident inheres sometimes and sometimes not, due to the actualizations of its potentiality over time. However, the union is like an accident, but the logical-philosophical lesson to be drawn from this is that an adequate philosophical language that is able to deal with christological dilemmas adequately was still missing at the end of the thirteenth century. 3.2.1 Thomas Aquinas Richard Cross not only uncovered the conceptual and theoretical structures of Aquinas’ Christology in his impressive The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, but he also points out that Aquinas believed that an account of Christ’s human nature in terms of accidentality was heretical, because he thought that this view had been condemned.17 Aquinas argues for a single esse of Jesus Christ’s substantial esse in all but one of his discussions of the nature of Christ’s esse.18 According to Cross, Thomas Aquinas’ Christology was monophysitist from beginning to end.19 Wawrykow has in particular pointed out the infuence of the conciliar view and the Christology of Cyril of Alexandria on Aquinas. Here, some unfortunate mistakes are involved. Aquinas and Wawrykow ascribe a kind of monophysitism to Cyril of Alexandria, just as the literature on the subject usually does.20 However, the traditional view is wrong, for Cyril endorsed 16 17

18

19 20

Cross, Duns Scotus, 114 (113-17). We have to return to the quasi-historical issue of analyzing contemporary positions in terms of the theology of the Early Church and the Ecumenical Councils. On the one hand, we have the issue of historical identification; on the other hand, an author may reject a view, because he thinks that it has been condemned by the Church, or he may accept a view, because he thinks that it is implied by the creeds of the Church, whereas such convictions may be utterly misleasding. It is just a fortunate fact that Duns Scotus is free from such quasi-historical proposals. Thomas Aquinas, Quaestio disputata De unione Verbi incarnati, 4, delivers the exception. See Wawrykow, ‘Hypostatic Union,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 240-2. See Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, chapter 2. On the life of Cyril of Alexandria, see Kannengiesser, ‘Cyril of Alexandria,’ ER IV 192-3, cf. Van Unnik, ‘Cyrillus van Alexandrië,’ CE II(21957) 343, and Young, From Nicaea to Chalcedon, 236-65.

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a kind of two natures Christology, being a forerunner of the Chalcedonian position. The appeal of Thomas Aquinas to uphold the monophysitist view is mistaken too.21 The famous expression the unique incarnate nature of God the Logos turns out to be rather marginal in Cyril’s Christology.22 Moreover, phusis enjoys quite a different meaning in Cyril. At the same time, as being a crypto-monophysitist, Thomas Aquinas is considered to be consistently critical of the Nestorian view: Aquinas knows its surface attractiveness; throughout, taking up the torch from Cyril, he insists on why it will not work.23 Aquinas’ is a personal type of fides quaerens intellectum thinking: faith looking for insight in terms of a web of broadly Aristotelian convictions. This way of thinking should not be under­stood as the simple effect of the influence of the corpus aristotelicum. In these centuries, countless numbers of thinkers were familiar with the corpus aristotelicum, but did not come to a Thomist forum of thought. The simple fact is that Thomas Aquinas was convinced that the strands we may call broadly Aristotelian are true. His Napolitan studies and the role of Albert the Great in his life were instrumental in constituting his mental topography. An ample illustration of this phenomenon are the basics of his Christology. An act-potency metaphysics endorses the thesis that an accidentally true proposition expresses a state of affairs which enjoys two kinds of esse, but, for Thomas Aquinas, the rejection of old and modern heresies is sufficient for the 21 22

23

See Van Loon, The Christology of Cyril of Alexandria. Van Loon, The Christology of Cyril of Alexandria, 16-30, 514-19, and 545-70, and the parts of this helpful study on which the conclusions are based. Church and the Ecumenical Councils. On the one hand, we have the issue of historical identification; on the other hand, an author may reject a view, because he thinks that it has been condemned by the Church, or he may accept a view, because he thinks that it is implied by the creeds of the Church, whereas such convictions may be utterly misleasding. It is just a fortunate fact that Duns Scotus is free from such quasi-historical proposals. Compare Thomas Aquinas, Quaestio disputata De unione Verbi incarnati, 4, delivers the exception. See Wawrykow, ‘Hypostatic Union,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 2402. See also Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, chapter 2. On the life of Cyril of Alexandria, see Kannengiesser, ‘Cyril of Alexandria,’ ER IV 192-3, cf. Van Unnik, ‘Cyrillus van Alexandrië,’ CE II 343 Wawrykow, ‘Hypostatic Union,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 237 (236-42). Consult also Wawrykow, ‘Wisdom in the Christology of Thomas Aquinas,’ in Emery and Wawrykow (eds.), Christ among the Medieval Dominicans, 175-96.

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rejection of the christological accidental union claim. However, the common thirteenth-century tradition in christology embraces an adapted sort of substance-accident model. So, Aquinas also distanced himself from the main tradition in christology and felt himself under pressure to develop an alternati­ve without the problem of accidental actualization: Central to Aquinas’ rejection of the substance-accident analogy is his rejection of the possible applicability of (AF2) – a necessary feature of accident possession – in the case of the hypostatic union. Aquinas proposes a replacement model which is not open to the objections which in his view the substance-accident model faces. The proposed model is the union between a concrete whole and a concrete part of that whole,24 but it is a priori forbidden that a part contributes accidentally to a whole: then, we again fall victim to the actualization dilemma. Thomas Aquinas’ metaphysical starting point imprisons him. He has to accept an essential relationship between part and whole: According to Aquinas, a union between a concrete whole and its parts does not entail the actualization of any passive potency in the concrete whole. A concrete part does not contribute any esse to its suppositum. Rather, the concrete parts of a suppositum – Aquinas’ examples in Summa Theologiae are heads, bodies, souls, hands, feet, and eyes – are such that they together compose the one esse of the whole concrete suppositum.25 Parts do not have any esse of their own, but accidents do have esse of their own. So, Christ’s human nature has no esse on its own account. Otherwise, the Word would have had two kinds of esse. Although mainstream thirteenth-century Christology has its roots in the twelfth century, it is also to be considered as an alternative to the basic structure of Thomas Aquinas’ christology. 3.3

The Crucial Christ

John Duns positions himself in main stream thirteenth-century christology, which is oppo­sed to the Thomist alternative. His thought is never unsubtle or 24 25

Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, 52. (AF2) states that having P-ness informs the bearer of having P. Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, 52. See Summa Theologiae III 17.2.

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dull, but complex and dense. Nevertheless, his christological starting points are clear. The first starting point con­sists in the conviction: God is the center of everything and He is so in infinite goodness.26 God is so good that it is impossible that he is different from what He is in complete goodness and, so, it is also impossible that He does not exist. There are two important points of principle to be accounted for: the discovery of essential individuality and the discovery that goodness is the key to everything. God is the individual where all possible goodness and splendor meet. In him, goodness and splendor contract individually. He is not in any need. So, he can only be a free Creator in his personal creativity. The identity and individuality of God entails the possi­bility of a new relationship with his creation. If God is the possible Creator, then he is the actual Creator. We are there too, in company of other kinds of creatures. Contingently. In freedom. With love. The modality of divine activity is contingency. Here, the decisive breach in the history of the thought of mankind is to be found. The great chain of being is broken. Continuity and care are not based on necessity, but on will. We have to conclude that God did not become man as an effect of the necessity of his own nature. By contrast, Celsus and Plotinus, Porphyry and Proclus were right in assuming that a necessary incarnation is impossible, but they were wrong in believing that just for this reason incarnation as such is impossible. The possibility of incarnation – among many other reasons – shows that the necessity of reality is impossible. Incarnation cannot be motivated by necessity and it is not motivated by evil either. Something good beyond imagination does not derive its strenght from something evil. God takes reasons from himself. His own unspeakable goodness is his source. He draws on his own goodness, generosity and patience and he does so in freedom and by free decision.27 The development of theology illustrates this point of view. The harvest of the develop­ment of theology during the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth centuries is a will-centered doctrine of God and a will-centered theology of incarnation. The central concept of the doctrine of God in Lectura I and Ordi­ natio I is the concept of the love of God and both divine loving and human loving are acts of will. The gift of love refers back to the giver of love.28 Pre­ 26 27

28

See Wolter, ‘John Duns Scotus,’ The Encyclopedia of Philosophy (1967) II 433. For Den Bok’s historical elaboration of the Utrecht stance in matters of tradition, see Beck and Veldhuis (eds.), Geloof geeft te denken, 223-312. See also Veldhuis, ‘Zur hermeneutischen Bedeutung der supralapsarischen Christologie des Johannes Duns Scotus,’ in Schneider (ed.), Menschwerdung Gottes – Hoff­nung des Menschen, 93-6: love does not presuppose sin. See Veldhuis, ‘An infinite act of love,’ in Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, chapter 6 (193-225).

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destination and incarnation are contingent acts of a loving God. Duns’ doctrine of predestination and theories of will and action are intertwined. The crucial aspect of the theory of action concerns its aim-means structure. The primary thing to be willed is the aim or the end the action is directed to, if we will something truly and adequately. We have to stress that the basic rule of the theory of action and willing is that an act or a series of acts, or even an entire policy or strategy, is ruled by its end. The question that matters is the why?-question: Why is something done? The fundamental distinction of such a theory is that between aim/end and means: Everyone who wills something in an ordered way, wills the aim/end before that which is related to the aim/end.29 Duns consistently refers to this distinction as the distinction between finis and id quod est ad finem wherein the aim/end functions as the focus of the entire approach: The primary thing to be willed by an ordered act of will consists for all in the end.30 Duns had already defined the main principle of this theory of the act in Lectura I 41.25, which discusses a quaestio concerning election. The basic distinction between end and means is applied to acting (agere): Everyone who acts because of an end, wills the end prior to that which is related to the end. No thing that is related to the end can, therefore, be the reason for the end. So, the reason for willing the end cannot be the reason for willing what is related to the end.31 The parallel formulation in Ordinatio I 41.41 is completely worded in terms of willing:

29

30 31

Lectura III 19.22: ‘Cum ergo omnis ordinate volens prius velit finem quam illud quod est ad finem, prius voluit Deus determinato numero praedestinatorum beatitudinem quam meritum aliquod quod ad hunc finem ordinatur.’ Lectura III 19.20: ‘Primo volitum volitione ordinata omnibus est finis.’ Lectura I 41.25: ‘Omne agens propter finem, prius vult finem quam ea quae sunt ad finem. Nihil igitur quod est ad finem, potest esse ratio finis, nec ratio volitionis finis potest esse volitio alicuius ad finem.’

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He who orderly wills the end/aim and what is related to the end/aim, wills the end/aim before anything that is related to the end/aim and he wills the other things because of the end/aim.32 The theory of action runs parallel to the theory of willing. They form a unity. In the aim/end-means structure, the aim/end (finis) is the primary element and what is ad finem (the means) is related to and ordered to the aim or end. Means cannot explain what we are aiming at and effects cannot explain the cause. If an action is to be responsible, our willing has to be respon­sible as well. There­ fore, there has to be a certain order, wich is structured by the priority of end over means. Duns’ eschatology presents a fine illustration of this principle: Prior to the good things that are ordered with respect to the happiness of the number of elect, God has willed their happiness itself. From somet­hing that someone has done it is possible to deduce what his final goal is. If a has done r, and r presupposes q and q presupposes p, a has done all this in order to realize p – this is the pattern of Duns’ theory of action, including his eschatological doctrine of election. When this basic rule is applied to election (praedestinatio), enjoying God – joyfully willing God because of God himself – is the end which is prior to the means, for the end or the aim is prior to the means. Election itself, and the entire history moved by it, is motivated by its end, which rests in itself. The aim/means basis of the theory of action not only applies to the doctrine of predestination, but also to Duns’ christology and the doctrine of Christ’s predestination: The viewpoint of election itself is for all the elect more primary than that which is related toward their end/aim (ad finem) is foreknown, since the end/aim (finis) is for all what is primarily willed by an ordered act of will.33 Means are related as such to the aim or end. If there is no aim, there are no means that can be related to it. Means depend on aims. Therefore, aims and ends are primary. It is not reasonable when we try to explain our actions in terms of the means we need to achieve them. This foundation of the theory of action applies to what God does, and it applies also to the doctrine of 32 33

Ordinatio I 41.41: ‘Ordinate volens finem et ea quae sunt ad finem, prius vult finem quam aliquod entium ad finem, et propter finem vult alia.’ Lectura III 19.20: ‘Omnes praedestinati prius sunt praedestinati quam praevisum sit eis illud quod est ad finem, quia primo volitum volitione ordinata omnibus est finis.’

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predestination and the doctrine of Christ’s predestination and election. The first question to be asked is what accounts for the existence and the coming of Christ, and, here, Duns immediately steers his own course: We have to know that the soul of Christ had been elected to maximal glory from eterni­ty, not because others had been foreknown to fall, but in order to enjoy God. Indeed, Christ was first – in terms of our analysis – predestined to glory before the fall, and the lapse of the human race were foreknown by God.34 We have seen that the doctrine of God turns around the theory of divine will.35 The will as the pivot of the Trinitarian conception of personhood is entailed by the contingency of reality and, likewise, there is the pivotal role of will in the concept of a person. The doctrine of God is shaped by a theory of divine knowledge in which God’s knowledge of reality will-dependent. By contrast, in Thomas Aquinas’ doctrine of God, God’s will is considered to be knowledgedependent. The central concept of Duns’ doctrine of God is the concept of the love of God. This basic structure is mirrored in his love-based ethics and his christology.36 In classic theology, in fact, christology is an extension of the doctrine of God. If God cannot be incarnate, then orthodox christology is impossible. It reduces to a Jesus-chapter in anthropology. The theory of divine properties is the backbone of the whole of Christian thought and, at the same time, the center of the storm. Thus, we have not only to enquire into the action theoretical pattern, but also for the input from the doctrine of God. The doctrine of God starts from the goodness of God. The Anselmian axiom reads: God is the best possible person, but he who is best and as good as possible ought to be loved above all. The basic pattern starts here: God elects others into the relationship with himself by loving himself.37 34

35 36

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Lectura III 19.20: ‘Sciendum ergo est quod anima Christi praedestinata fuit ab aeterno ad a Deo casus et lapsus humani maxi­mam gloriam, non quia alii praevisi erant cadere, sed ut frueretur Deo. Immo prius erat Christus – secundum modum intelligendi nostrum – praedestinatus ad gloriam quam fuerit praevisus generis.’ See § 2.3 and § 2.5. Cf. DPhil §§ 13.3-13.5 and §§ 16.4-16.7. See Veldhuis, ‘Zur hermeneutischen Bedeutung der supralapsarischen Christologie des Johannes Duns Scotus,’ in Schneider (ed.), Menschwerdung Gottes – Hoffnung des Menschen, 81-93: ‘caritas quaerens intellectum.’ See Lectura III 19.31: ‘Deus – diligendo se – praedestinavit alios ad se.’

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This thought is elaborated on in Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4, c. a.: At the first moment, God loves himself; at the second moment, God loves himself for others, and this love is a pure love; at the third moment, God wills that he is loved by him who can love him above all; and, at the fourth moment, he foresaw the union of that nature which ought to love him above all, although nobody had fallen. [...] At the fifth moment, God saw that the coming mediator would suffer and would redeem his people. He would only have come as mediator, as the one who will suffer and will redeem, if someone were to have sinned before and there would only have been deferred glory, if there were some to have been redeemed, but otherwise the whole Christ would have been glorified instantly.38 Here we have a mysterious list of acts: first (at the first structural moment), second (at the second structural moment), third (at the third structural moment), and so on. How is such a list to be interpreted? The characteristic terms of Maria Burger are: classificatory se­ries/sequence, the successive order of a course, not: precedence in God, but denumerable levels, although these levels are not to be seen as temporal stages.39 What is at stake here? We meet here Duns Scotus’ famous contribution of the logical tool and ontological pattern of structural moments. The structured nature of being demands an 38

39

Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4, c. a., in Balic, Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 14-15: ‘Primo, Deus diligit se; secundo, diligit se aliis, et iste est amor castus; tertio, vult se diligi ab illo qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicuius extrinseci; et quarto, praevidit unionem illius naturae, quae debet eum summe diligere etsi nullus cecidisset. [...] In quinto instanti, vidit Deus mediatorem venientem passurum, redempturum suum populum. Et non venisset, ut mediator, ut passurus et redempturus, nisi aliquis prius peccas­set, neque fuisset gloria carnis dilata, nisi fuissent redimendi, sed statim fuisset totus Christus glorificatus.’ For the structural moments of human predestination, cf. Lectura III 19.21. See Veldhuis, ‘Zur hermeneutischen Bedeutung der supralapsarischen Christologie des Johannes Duns Scotus,’ in Schneider (ed.), Menschwerdung Gottes – Hoffnung des Menschen, 82-93, cf. Den Bok, ‘Liefde op zoek naar een geliefde,’ Kerk en Theologie 50 (1998) 184-98. Apart from alio, Reportata Parisiensia III 7 quaestio 4, c. a., has the same text as Balic: ‘Primo, Deus diligit se; secundo, diligit se aliis, et iste est amor castus; tertio, vult se diligi ab alio qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicuius extrinseci; et quarto, praevidit unionem illius naturae, quae debet eum summe diligere etsi nullus cecidisset.’ See Burger, Personalität im Horizont absoluter Prädestination, 150 (149-54): ‘gestufte Abfolge’ (classificatory series/sequence), ‘Reihenfolge für den Ablauf’ (the successive order of a course of events), not: ‘Vorgän­gig­keit’ (precedence in God), but ‘denumerable levels’ (abzählbare Stufen).

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approach in terms of structural moments.40 The theory of a structural instan­ce (instans naturae) which assumes ante and post to be related structurally, stands out as a striking example. If theologians in later times say: ‘We must not understand this order chronologically, but logi­cally,’ they appeal to the Scotian method of analysis.41 The essentials of the structural moments method boil down to two main elements: first, the structural moments methodology is based on implicative relationships, and, second, it is related to the contingent reality as we have to understand it in the light of God’s involvement. If we have the implication p → q, then, according to Duns Scotus’ structural moments termino­logy, the consequent q is said to be the first moment and the antecedent q the second moment. If more implications are involved, we get more moments and a string of interrelationships. In other words: if structural moment a is prior to structural moment b (a ante (before) b), then we have to be aware that a is entailed by b, but if b entails a, then a is a necessary condition of b. When we pay attention to a most general list, then we discover the decisive necessa­ry conditions. If God is the center of all possible reality, then God is the one who matters first of all and He and his relationships to himself are the most basic starting point of all ontology. Since God is most lovable, it is love that matters first of all. So, the most basic starting point is that God exists and that He loves Himself. We already met this foundational proposition at the first structural moment of Duns’ Parisian list of five moments: At the first structural moment, God loves himself.42 Duns Scotus’ is a will-centered ontology and a will-centered ontology is a lovebased ontology. The best possible Person can only be full of love and since he exists necessarily, it is absolutely impossible for him that he does not love himself. Notice that Duns expresses a necessarily true proposition in the first structural moment. We look at the second structural moment:

40

41 42

Naturâ means: by nature, that is, structurally; instans naturae means: moment of nature, that is, structural moment. See CF 34, note 72. Cf. for instance Lectura I 10.27 and I 39.60 and 90. CF 34. Compare CF 132-3 and 138-41. Consult also DPhil §§ 6.4-6.5. Reportatio Parisiensis III 4 quaestio 4, c. a.

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At the second structural moment, God loves himself for others, and this love is a pure (castus) love.43 This second move is a bit more complicated. We have always to be aware that Scotus is an ontological actualist. His philosophical explanations serve factual phenomena, events and developments. God is as the best possible Person the center of all possible reality. If God is the center of all possible reality, then he is the center of all actual reality, and if he is the center of all actual reality, then everything else is as such related to him. If there are other persons, the first gift to be enjoyed is God’s love. His is an outgoing love, an abundance of divine love. Nevertheless, God’s love is also contingent as far as his love does not coincide with his own self-love (the first structural moment of divine love). Notice that Scotus’ wor­ding reads: ‘God loves himself for others.’ God loves himself for other persons to be loved, if there are other persons to be. The ambiguous translation in others already seems to presuppose a mental and spiritual activity on the side of created persons, but the next structural moments make clear, that this step is a step too far. The second structural moment concerns the internal structure of divine love at the possible transition to a world of others. There are two interpretations which spell out the two layers of this structural moment together: the possibility interpretation and the actuality interpretation. In terms of the possibility interpretation, the first structural moment of divine love entails the second one and its second structural moment entails the first one. However, in terms of the actuality interpretation, the second structural moment of divine love entails the first one, but, then, the first structural moment does not entail the second one. In both cases, the method of the structural moments (instantia naturae) works: the latter moment entails the former moment, the former moment being the mth moment and the latter moment being the nth moment. Who is, then, the next lover as the best possible co-lover (condiligens)? At the third structural moment, God wills that he is loved by him who can love him above all.44 43 44

Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4, c. a.: ‘Secundo, diligit se aliis, et iste est amor castus.’ Most authors who quote this text reading: in others. Cf. Quodlibet xvi. Ibidem: ‘Tertio, vult se diligi ab illo qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicuius extrinseci.’ Most interpreters still follow the text of the Wadding/Vivès editions: ‘Vult se diligi ab alio.’ The foundation of the homo assumptus interpretation is a wrong reading. The first page of Déodat de Basly’s Le Sacré-Coeur has this reading: ‘Deus voluit

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Duns’ best possibility logic continues. The logic of what is best possible amounts to the logic of the best possible goodness and the best possible love. There is God’s best possible love and this love can only be answered adequately by optimally possible love: love of ‘Him who can love Him above all.’ The logic of love reigns and divine love and, so, best possible human love reigns. Impeccable logic reigns, for impeccable goodness and love for it are not to be daunted. Classic Western thought would not be charmed by pessimism and nihilism, but we have still not arrived at the end of our story: At the fourth structural moment, he foresaw the union of that nature which ought to love him above all, although nobody had fallen.45 The best possible love in human existence is God’s own human love. Here, Duns’ logic and ontology of divine existence and love approach the classic doctrine Christ’s two natures. The best possible love for God is the human love of God himself, the self-expression of God’s love in the garment of human love. The christology of the Councils naturally approaches Scotus’ own reconstruction of theology – in the style of fides quaerens intellectum. We arrive at the last stage: At the fifth structural moment, God saw that the coming mediator would suffer and would redeem his people. He would only have come as mediator, as he who would suffer and redeem, if someone were to have sinned before and his historical glory would have been deferred, if there were some to have been redeemed. However, the whole Christ would have been glorified instantly.46 A contribution from Lectura III 19.20 has to be added at this point: Salvation is the final aim of the souls of men. Christ’s suffering is directed to it, serving the final aim. However, the election of the souls is a more primary viewpoint than the suffering of Christ. Therefore, Christ had not

45 46

se diligi ab alio qui potest eum summe diligere.’ See Seiller (ed.), Déodat de Basly. Le SacréCoeur, Paris 51945, 5. Ibidem: ‘Quarto, praevidit unionem illius naturae, quae debet eum summe diligere etsi nullus cecidisset.’ Ibidem: ‘In quinto instanti, vidit Deus mediatorem venientem passurum, redempturum suum populum. Et non venisset, ut mediator, ut passurus et redempturus, nisi aliquis prius peccasset, neque fuisset gloria carnis dilata, nisi fuissent redimendi, sed statim fuisset totus Christus glorificatus.’

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been elected because of the fall of others, but all elect (praedestinati) were elected at a prior moment than the suffering of Christ was foreknown and ordained.47 We have seen by now what Scotus defends and what he rejects. Election is directed towards eternal glory. Created reality is not acquainted with anything greater than the living Christ. So, what matters in election must be the greatest glory. What is best, matters most. What God concerns most in Christ is God himself. Positive patterns of reality and positive lines of argumentation prevail. God’s self-knowledge, self-willing and (fruitio) prevail in this election and predestination. God is the first and the last one and he has the first word and the last word. God matters first; so he matters first for himself and for us and we are his concern. We are not our own first concern, because God incarnate is our first concern. Salvation narcism is not a Christian obsession. The other is our concern, and the Other is our highest concern. The eschaton can only be the Eschatos, the final for whomsoever. For Duns Scotus, a theocentric orientation is a Christocentric orientation. Such a systematic analysis starts from the peace of God’s own love and shows the following structural moments: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

God’s will as love for himself; God’s love as love for others; God’s will to beloved most highly; incarnation as the implication of this will to be loved, and God incarnate as the Christ of history: Mediator and Redeemer.

The definitive point of Duns Scotus is that goodness does not depend on what is wrong or evil, just as God cannot take his raison d’être from the evil one, nor the motive of il paradi­so from il inferno. What is good, rests in divine goodness and divine goodness rests in itself: it is supralapsarian, for God himself is su­pralapsarian. Apart from the clearly good intentions of the alternative infra­ lapsarian position, purely systematically seen, it is logically and ontologically inconsistent, psychologically pessimistic, and ethically untenable: otherwise, we should have to cause pain in order to harvest joy.48 However, the good 47

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Lectura III 19.20: ‘Ideo passio Christi quae est ad finem ordinata, ut ad salutem animarum, posterius ordinabatur quam praedestinatio animarum. Et ideo Christus non fuit praedestinatus propter casum aliorum, sed omnes praedestinati prius erant praedestinati quam praevisa et ordinata fuit passio Christi.’ Essential properties are the basis of philosophical explanations, not accidental ones, as the fall and sin are. On supralapsarian Christology, see note 8, and Chrysostome, Le motif

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cannot be explained from an exter­nal point of view. It cannot be based on what is ethically neutral or wrong. What is good, is self-justifying. We have to explain what happens in history in terms of what there is. The ontological status of the agents is what matters first. Individuals are more basic than properties and persons are more basic than actions. So, the primary question is: Why did you do that? Why did you will this? Why did you decide to act in this way? The primary why?-question puts the aim-means analysis in the center and the aim-means analysis refers back to the agent and his aims. First, we have to dwell on the ontological status of Jesus Christ and, second, on the doctrine of his works. Supralapsarian christology is simply based on ontological and concep­tual structures and priorities. First things first. 3.4

The Two Natures of Jesus Christ

Duns Scotus faces the issue of the possibility of incarnation at the beginning of Sententiae III. He not only lists a series of objections, but he also divides the objections into two sets: objections which has the literature on the subject in common, and special objections. Thus, he offers a special list of ‘rather great difficulties.’49 In Lectura Oxoniensis III 1 Scotus asks the following questions: (1) Is it possible that the human nature is united with the divine Word in a personal way (personaliter)? (2) Is it possible that the three divine Persons assume the numerically same nature? (3) Can a person assume other natures?50 (4) Can a created subject support a nature of another kind?

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de l’incarnation et les principaux contemporains, Dettloff, ‘Die Geisteskeit des hl. Franziskus in der Christologie des Johannes Duns Scotus,’ Wissenschaft und Weisheit 22 (1959) 17-28, idem, ‘Die christozentrische Konzeption des Johannes Duns Scotus als Ansatz für eine Theologie der Welt,’ Wissenschaft und Weisheit 48 (1985) 182-96, and Mc­Evoy, ‘The Absolute Predestination of Christ in the Theology of Robert Grosseteste,’ Sapientiae doctrina, 212-30. Lectura III 1.7: ‘[…] rationes speciales quae maiores difficultates important’ – see Lectura III 1.7-14, and Lectura III 1.2-6: ‘rationes communes.’ Compare Reportatio Parisiensis III 1, quaestio 3: ‘Utrum natura humana possit personari simul in tribus personis,’ and quaestio 4, parallel to Lectura III 1, quaestio 3.

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(5) Is the end term of the union of human nature with the divine Word founded on a relational or a ‘personal’ property?51 Reportatio Parisiensis III 1 also numbers five questions. Three questions are new: Quaestio 1: Is it possible that the human nature could have its own existence in the person of another nature or in another nature in a personal way? Quaestio 2: Is it possible that human nature is only united with one divine Person? Quaestio 3: Is it possible that human nature becomes personal in three Persons at the same moment?52 These crucial eight questions cover the whole of the transcendental issues and conditions of the theology of the incarnation. The central question is whether and how incarnation is possible (Lectura III 1.16). The well-known objections are anchored in Aristotelian conceptu­al structures, but there is also the remarkable fact that Duns Scotus is very keen to answer objections which are based on his own tradition.53 Here, the new notion of true individuality plays a main role and Duns himself is the major witness of this Christian tradition. Scotus himself is famous because of his formal-objective distinction between the haeceitas of a and a’s common nature n, but – we may ask – does not the haeceitas of a entail that a can only be an n (Lectura III 1.7-10)? If this were to be so, is it not impossible that God can become man? In this light we understand well that Duns Scotus deals with what we have to understand by incarnation and the ‘personal union’ of the Word and human nature (Lectura III 1.17-22). First, we will pay attention to the results of this excursus. Duns is sure that incarnation is possible, if we take our point of departure in the assuming Word (Lectura III 1.24-27), but do we understand how incarnation is possible, if we take our point of departure in the assumed nature (Lectura III 1.28-34)? The central question is whether incarnation be possible: Can the human nature be united with the Person of the Word?54 51 52

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Compare Reportatio Parisiensis III 1, quaestio 5: ‘Utrum suppositum creatum posset sustentare aliam naturam.’ The Scotian solutions links up with the twelfth-century tradition. The questions 4-5 coincide with questions 3 and 5 of Lectura III 1. Lectura III functions as the Vorlage of Ordinatio III. The questions run entirely in parallel. Lectura III plays the same role as Lectura I-II. See the rationes speciales in Lectura IIII 1.7-14. Compare the formulations in Lectura III 1.1, 16 and 23.

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A union is a relation (Lectura III 1.17), and, seen from the viewpoint of creation, it is a real relation: To unite is to cause a union which is a real relation in creation. Then, to incarnate (incarnare) is to act by uniting a nature. Therefore, the action concerns a nature. [...] Hence, the Word is not an object on which an action is performed; therefore, it does not undergo something.55 Lectura III 1.20 throws light on the fundamental nature of that relation: The only kind of union which is similar to the union of a nature and the person of another nature, is to be found in the union of an accident and its subject.56 On the one side, Duns Scotus stands squarely in the main tradition of thirteenth-century christology in endorsing the accident model, but, on the other side, he is evidently aware that the traditional notion of an accident is inadequate to fulfill its proper function in the doctrine of Christ’s two natures. Therefore, he distances himself from it (Lectura III 1.18-21). In Lectura III 1.22, leaving aside its context in the Aristotelian theory of causality and matter, he concentrates on the formal concept of an accidental property and its content: A nature is united with the person of another nature means that it depends on that person [...] by a dependence which is similar to the dependence of an accident on a subject in so far as it subsists in an accident, but not in so far as an accident informs its subject. I do not know how I can name it in a better way.57 The subject of the union – the divine Word – is the bearer of the relation to the human nature. The union is a relation and this relation of union formally 55

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Lectura III 1.52: ‘Unire est causare unionem, quae est relatio realis in creatura. Incarnare igitur est agere uniendo naturam. Ideo actio est circa naturam. [...] Unde Verbum non est obiectum circa quod fiebat actio, et ideo non patitur.’ Lectura III 1.20: ‘Non invenitur aliqua unio similis unioni naturae ad personam alterius naturae nisi unio accidentis ad subiectum.’ Lectura III 1.22: ‘Naturam uniri personae alterius naturae est eam dependere ad illam personam [...] dependentiâ simili dependentiae accidentis ad subiectum in quantum subsistat accidenti, sed non in quantum accidens informat ipsum subiectum. Nec scio alio nomine eam nominare.’

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consists in being dependent. The Word contingently creates the relation of dependence between himself and human nature. In this approach, everything depends on the definition of the terms of this relation. 3.4.1 Individuality and Being a Person Scotus’ favorite method consists in eliminating a rival theory with the help of a reductio ad absurdum. His own positive efforts concentrate on demonstrating that there is no contradicti­on in his own position. In many cases, he even tries to show that his own theorems can be reduced to necessary truths. In Lectura III 1.35 he uses the same method in order to show the approach by which the tenability of the doctrine of incarnation can be shown: I say that it is necessary that personhood in that human nature is such and from such a source that for a [human] nature to be without human personhood does not include a contradiction. Such a nature could remain under its own individuality (singularitas) – without a human personhood, but under the personhood of another.58 Duns challenges the thesis that the union of a person enjoying the divine nature which differs from the nature to be assumed, rests on a contradiction. If a contradiction were to be at stake, the conclusion must be that a human nature can only combine with human persons. At this junction of his argumentation, Duns Scotus brings in his theory of individuality (singularitas): How are individuality (singularitas) and personhood (personalitas) related? Duns Scotus proposes his own alternative. In a way which reminds of the Anselmian strategy, removes the obstacles in the christological model. In addition to Anselm’s axiom of the philosophical theology of God: God is the best possible person, we have Anselm’s methodological axiom: If the objection is raised that philosophy excludes an article of faith, we also have to bring to the fore the other way around that the article of faith excludes the involved philosophical theory. This implies the task to wreck the underlying philosophical theory.59 In Lectura III 1.35 Duns removes the obstacles in the christological model: A nature can keep its own individuality, if no own personhood is involved.

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Lectura III 1.35: ‘Dico quod oportet quod personalitas in natura humana sit talis et a tali, quod non includat contradictionem naturam esse sine illa, ita quod natura sub sua singularitate posset manere – sine propria personalitate – sub personalitate aliena.’ See Anselm, De Concordia I part 1.

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Duns investigates the case when the consistency condition cannot be met. At any rate, the consistency condition cannot be met, if crucial properties exclude each other, for the consis­tency condition requires that the involved properties are compatible and do not exclude each other. First, he considers the boundaries of the concept of personhood; second, he explores the alternative he is to propose now. What is at stake in the demarcation of the notion of person­­hood? I say by holding a middle course (via media): to say that personhood expresses a positive entity outside the individuality (singularitas) of the nature which is then incommunica­ble to the divine person, is to ascribe too much to the creature. To posit that personhood only expresses the denial of actual dependence, is to ascribe too little to personhood.60 In anthropology, there is a Scylla to be avoided: still, human personhood exhausts being a person, since human individuality entails human personhood. According to this position, a human individuality is intrinsically connected with an independent human person who is as such the bearer of that human inviduality. Duns Scotus comments: in that case, ‘one ascribes too much to creation,’ if the nature of a creature blocks divine possibilities to act. Then, it would be impossible for the Creator to absorb creaturely ways of expressing himself. There is also a Charybdis to be avoided: personhood is only based on the denial of actual dependence which keeps the possibility of dispositional dependence open. In the first case, human personhood would absorb human individuality; in the second case, a human nature is inclined to union with God; thus, a human nature might absorb divinity – from within, from itself. Then, personhood is excessively diminished and a human nature might aspire too much by its dispositional dependence on God as such, but then it is too little in itself! On the human side, possessing human personhood exceeds human individuality. If it were not so, human personhood would exhaust the possibilities of being a person. Then, the study of the concept of a person could only deal with human persons, since they would be the only possible persons. However, there is at least one other person and Scotus even beieves that he can demonstrate that that person – the best possible Person – exists. So, narrowing the concept 60

Lectura III 1.44: ‘Dico tenendo viam mediam: nam dicere quod personalitas dicat entitatem positivam ultra singularitatem qua natura est incommunicabilis personae divinae, est nimis attribuere creaturae; ponere etiam quod personalitas tantum dicat negationem dependentiae actualis, est nimis parum attribuere personalitati.’

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of a person in this way is not a viable method. If human personhood does not exhaust personhood, human individuality must be open to transcendent personhood: Taking a middle course among these matters I say that personhood (personalitas) – outside the entity of individuality (singularitas) in a rational nature by which the nature is this nature – brings with it the denial of actual and dispositional (aptitudinalis) depen­dence; yet it is not in contradiction with its individuality that it should depend on a person having some other nature, namely the dependence on the Person of the Word.61 Let us rehearse the steps to be made in order to solve the christological dilemma, for we have to pay attention to two options – the one excluding the possibility of incarnation, and the other one stating that personhood only expresses the denial of actual dependence. 3.4.1.1 Option One The first option starts from Duns Scotus’ own theoretical framework, for it is based on the distinction between human nature and a certain human individuality. Human individuality entails the human nature: If a is human individual, then a is a human person. This pattern is repeated by assuming a parallel relationship between a certain human individuality and personhood: If a is a person, then a is a human individual. This view stresses that personhood is a positive ontological element (entitas). However, human individuality is drastically strengthened and reinforced in this way. This option bestows a special importance and impact on the human individual by bestowing an extraordinary importance and impact on the personhood of a human individual. This proper ontological meaning and weight of personhood – in the sense of absolute personhood – is projected upon human personhood and blocks as such the possibi­lity that a divine Person can partake in the human nature. Human existence is not only terra incognita, but also a no-go area for a divine Person, and for God himself as a person. The absolute meaning of being human and the absolute value of human personhood make incarna­tion impossible. According to this first option personhood anthropologically excludes the possibility of incarnation! 61

Lectura III 1.44: ‘Inter haec mediando, dico quod personalitas – ultra entitatem singularitatis in natura rationali qua natura est haec (sc. natura) – importat negationem dependentiae actualis et aptitudinalis, nec tamen repugnat sibi quod dependeat ad personam naturae alterius, ut ad personam Verbi.’

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3.4.1.2 Option Two The point of departure of the rival option is to block the first option (which entailed that human individuality rests on its own personhood). The countermove states that personhood only expresses the denial of actual dependence. If this is all that the concept of a person has to fill in, then by stating that personhood only expresses the denial of actual dependence, one ascribes too little to person­hood (Lectura III 1.44). If we follow this move, then the notions of dispositional dependence and personhood can coalesce. We have the excellent analysis of Richard Cross: If actual independence were sufficient for a human substance to have personhood, then a disembodied human soul would count as a person. Scotus believes however, citing Richard of St. Victor, that a disembodied soul is not a person. So he concludes that actual independence is not sufficient for personhood.62 The denial of actual dependence is not sufficient for the personhood of a human nature. Actual independence is necessary and a further negative condition is also required: A property that Scotus calls the negation of dispositional dependence. For an object to have dispositional dependence, it must be the case that the object depends on a subject unless prevented. Dependence on a subject must be a natural state for it. Accidents and substantial forms fit this description. A human soul, for example, is part of a human composite unless prevented.63 The conclusion must be that the denial of both actual and dispositional dependence are necessary and sufficient for personhood.64 Personhood exceeds the element of actual indepen­dence. Individual personhood makes an individual an individual person. Personhood rests on individuality. Since personhood does not collapse into individuality,

62 63 64

Cross, Duns Scotus, 119-20. Cross, Duns Scotus, 119. See Lectura III 1.46 and Ordinatio III 1.45. Cf. Cross, Duns Scotus, 120.

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yet it is not in contradiction with its individuality that it should depend on a person having some other nature, namely the dependence on the Person of the Word.65 If nature h and divine personhood are incompatible, the communicability of that nature h and the individual divine nature is necessarily false, not contingently untrue.66 Lectura III 1.46 formulates the alternative: A nature is personified in me – beyond the nature of some individuality: it does not depend on something else by a kind of dependence mentioned before, as far as it is actual and dispositional. If the individual nature in me is personified by divine person­hood, this does not constitute any inconsistency. The fact that it has no internal depen­dence on the personhood of another person, goes hand in hand with obediential potentia­lity which is open potentiality, related to divine personhood. Open and obediential potentiality is compatible with the denial of actual and dispositional dependence so that it is personified by the personhood of an other person, although it is as such not apt for it.67 The philosophical revolution which matures in Duns Scotus’ theory of individuality results in the view that the nature and individuality of anything are both essential – they belong to the level of essentiality. In anthropology this insight has to be stated: human individuality (for instance, danielitas, platonitas) entails the common nature of being human (human nature). Do we also have to accept the strict implication that human individuality entails that only a human nature can be the bearer of it? If in virtue of incarnation, intimate integra­tion of being God and being human is possible, we need human individuality by which God can express himself. It is indispensable for possibilities of human activity by God. If only matter is individuating, we may forget such 65 66 67

Lectura III 1.44: ‘Nec tamen repugnat sibi quod dependeat ad personam naturae alterius, ut ad personam Verbi.’ For Duns Scotus’ theory of negation, see Lectura III 1.45. Consult also DPhil § 4.8: ‘Negation.’ Lectura III 1.46: ‘Natura in me est personata, quia – ultra naturam singularitatis – nec dependet actualiter nec aptitudinaliter ad aliud dictâ dependentiâ. Nec tamen ex hoc ponitur repugnantia, si natura singula­ris in me personetur personalitate divina, quia cum hoc quod non habet dependentiam aptitudinalem ad aliam personalitatem, est in potentia obedientiali quae est potentia neutra, ad personalitatem divinam. Unde cum negatione dependentiae actualis et aptitudinalis stat potentia neutra et obedientialis ut personetur personalitate alia, licet ad eam non habeat aptitudinem naturalem.’

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perspectives. Then truly individual activity of humans is impossible. So, individual activity by God in human existence is impossible too. Here, we meet the back­ground of Scotus’ interests and worries. According to the alternative type of christology the ontological place of exclusive individuality is taken by the Logos: God the Son. Thomas Aquinas steers this course. However, this move results in the disappearance of human individuality in Jesus Christ, if it is construed exclusively, but the introduction of essential individuality cannot bear the whole weight of the reconstruction of christology. We not only need individuality on the human side, but also divine personhood. Not only the human and divine natures have to be combined, but also individuality on the human side and divine personhood. The innovative theory of individuality not only has an intimate relationship between individual identity, for instance John’s haeceitas, and John’s common nature, characterized by the formal distinction, but we have also Scotus’ view on the essence-existence distinction: there are no essences in isolation, but only essences of something: a common nature is entailed by an individual nature which an individual possesses. The project fails if individuality is second-class and disreputable, but the project fails likewise, if individuality is autonomous and absolte. If reality is closed, there is no room for God to act. If reality is closed and necessary, then there is neither room for God to exist. If it is contingent and open, it is necesary that God exists and that he has his own possibilities of agency, including the possibilities of his incarnation. The human nature of Christ is not entailed by the individual identity of the Word.68 The ontology of open reality not only requires ontological space between individuals and their natures, but an open anthropology also requires ontologi­cal space between individuality and personhood. This conceptual structure is the focus of Duns Scotus’ christological research (Lectura II 1.35). Within this context, Scotus considers two alternatives: a) personhood is a distinct reality, in alignme­nt with the individual difference by which the identity of an individual differs from his common nature; b) personhood is nothing else than human individuality. In terms of the first alternative a) no incarnation is possible and the impossibility of incarnati­on is Scotus’ main issue. Incarnation is impossible, if personhood is such a powerful factor that it entirely covers the space of human individuality, since it is entailed by it. It absorbs it. In terms of the second 68

For a series of criticisms of Aquinas’ christological model, see Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, chapters 1 and 2.

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alternative b) the Son is inclined to possess human individuality. In the first case, the maximization of the equivalence blocks the divine identity of Christ, in the second case, the minimization of that equivalence blocks the human uniqueness of Christ, since there is a general dispositional dependence of the human nature on Christ. 3.4.2 Perspective Duns Scotus clearly states that only the denial of actual dependence does not suffice to determine what personhood amounts to. This viewpoint needs elaboration. His example is the kind of dependence by which the human soul is dependent on the body. In medieval termino­logy, the present personal identity of my deceased father is not a person, for it is not embodied personhood: There is not actual dependence, but only a dispositional dependence, because the actual dependence shall be restored in the resurrection. When we apply the import of this example to the dependence of the human nature on the Word, then we have to state that dispositional dependence of human nature on the Word implies that incarnation is a natural outcome of the creation of human persons. Of course, Duns blocks this possibility, for we are not potential Christs. He concludes that personhood requires that both actual and dispositional (aptitudinalis) dependences have to be denied. Personhood rests on ultimate independence.69 In terms of modern presentation, and in contradistinction to Thomist christology, Duns Scotus is eager to dispute those Christologies that are, at base, monophysite. Although I like to avoid taking sides by using terms that are oldfashioned misnomers like Arianism, monophysitism and Nestorianism, one might say that he also avoids so-called Nestorianism. According to Scotus, persons cannot be united, since two persons cannot be one person: ‘Scotus’ negation doctrine in fact precludes Nestorianism. Necessary for being a person is failing to be assumed by the Word. Any nature assumed by the Word is eo ipso not a person.’70 In fact, Duns Scotus explores structural possibilities in view of the renewal of christology and the theology of incarnation. Such a structural approach has still to be enriched with an histori­cal approach based on modern biblical theology. We have already seen that Duns Scotus’ theory of individuality and anthropology do not entail that the humanity of a leads to a human person a. Likewise, the inference that a human individuality entails the existence of a human person a is also false. The individuality which happens to be John Duns Scotus’ 69 70

See § 2.3. Cross, Duns Scotus, 120. See Lectura III 5 and Ordinatio III 5.

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individuality does not necessarily boil down to this concrete human personhood, for many other persons enjoy these factual properties in the whole of the possible worlds, but they are not identical with John Duns. So, there is no essential or necessary connection between human individuality and personhood. There are basic possibilities of common and individual human existence which can be actualized by God by expressing himself in common and individual human existence. The openness of reality entails a specific openness of being human and in this open and contingent reality God can express himself in a human way. On the other hand, contingency implies personal freedom, but the openness of reality also means that there are so many alternatives of all kinds of promise and danger that life is risky. We need someone to guide us. The upshot for us is that we basically need God incarnate. Human individuality is open to the incarnation because of its own openness, although the range of possible incarnation is restricted. Duns Scotus answers the question whether an incarnation is possible on a structural level. Within the parameters of the same ontological and anthropological theories, divine personhood can also be dealt with in terms of Scotus’ elabora­ted notion of being a person. Then, Trinitarian theology can be seen as the theory of a very specific kind of a person: being the best possible person. What is traditionally called a Person can be understood as an absolute moment of subjectivity of God Triune in terms of an encom­passing theory of a person. All this has only been made possible by the broad histories of the doctrines of Jesus Christ the Son of God and of God Triune, although this new project does not start systematically from the classic theological notions of person. Nevertheless, this new tradition-based project creates room for a consistent doctrine of the Trinity and a consistent theology of incarnation. The theory of divine productions and processions is the foundation of both branches of the doctrine of God.71 3.5

Reconciliation

Lectura III is Duns’ first attempt to grapple with christology and ethics on a large scale. Up to 1302, he was primarily occupied with the problems of the first book of the Sententiae. By way of contrast, Reportatio Parisiensis III breaks off after distinction 17. The Oxonian dis­tinctions Lectura III 19-20 are the first and oldest source of Duns Scotus’ doctrine of reconcili­ation, but they are also the sole source, because Duns did not revise these distinctions later on. A specific literary phenomenon can be seen in the fact that Lectura III 20 occurs again in 71

See §§ 2.3-2.4 and DPhil §§ 13.3-13.5.

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Ordinatio III 20. Lectura III 20 is a part of the block Lectura III 19-25 that Duns straigh­tf­or­wardly integrated into his Ordinatio as Ordinatio III 19-25. The old Canterbury Codex A 13 even retains the baccalaureate quaeritur instead of the magisterial quaero.72 These Lectura III distinctions have been added to Ordina­ tio III without reediting them. This fact shows that Scotus simply stuck to these views during his later Parisian stages. In Sententiae III 20, Peter Lombard, the Magister Sententiarum, considers whether and how mankind has been saved by suffering and whether it had to be saved through suffering.73 Debates on satisfactio and Christ’s passio has continued until the end of the twentieth century and the Anselmian position has always been central.74 Duns Scotus paid unique attention to Anselm. Lectura III 20 is a special distinction. It is unique from methodical, literary and also doctrinal view­points. The approach is unique to Duns, for here Duns does not deal with a contribution by one the great thirteenth-century theologians, for instance, Bonaventure, Thomas Aquinas, Henry of Ghent or Godfrey of Fontaines, as he usually does, but he concentrates on only one book, namely Anselm’s Cur Deus Homo?75 His abstract is unique in the whole of his œuvre.76 The contents of Lectura III 20 show an exquisite summary of Duns reading Anselm. On the basis of his description, Duns systematically introduces one line of thought that critically questions Anselm’s position, namely the ontological point of necessity and conting­ency. This example demonstrates again how the contingency model shapes Duns Scotus’ theological program.77 In the light of his new theory of contingency, he also considers and assesses the whole of the doctrine of reconciliation. First, his summary has to be summarized. Duns Scotus concentrates on the issue of whether it is necessary that mankind needs 72 73

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77

See § 1.5, § 4.2 and DS (1994) 56-7. On the interaction of Duns Scotus’ Sententiae books, see DPhil chapters 1 and 2. On the role of Lectura III, see DPhil § 2.3.1. Since early Dutch Enlightenment in the second quarter of the nineteenth century, the doctrine of atonement has been hotly debated. The first step was taken by enlightened, so-called ‘evangelical,’ but still biblicist, theology, violently attacking the so-called ‘blood theology’ of strict orthodoxy. See Strijd, Structuur en inhoud van Anselmus’ Cur Deus homo?, and Wiersinga, De verzoening in de theologische diskussie. See Southern, Saint Anselm, chapter 9: ‘Anselm and the human condition.’ For the Latin text and the Dutch translation of Duns’ marvellous abstract and his discussion of Anselm’s theory of reconciliation, see Den Bok, ‘Johannes Duns Scotus: bespreking van Anselmus’ Cur Deus homo,’ in Den Bok and Labooy (eds.), Wat God bewoog mens te worden, 59-75. See DPhil §§ 1.5-1.6, § 4.7, § 6.2, and §§ 16.4-16.8.

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to be redeemed and restored by Christ’s suffering. He observes that Anselm devoted a whole book to this subject and summarizes Anselm’s contribution in four points (Lectura III 20.12):78 1. It is necessary that man is redeemed (Lectura III 20.13). 2. Man cannot be redeemed without satisfaction – satisfactio (Lectura III 20.14-18). 3. Only the God-man can deliver this satisfaction (Lectura III 20.19-22). 4. Christ’s suffering is the most appropriate way (convenientior modus) for this satisfac­tion to occur (Lectura III 20.23-25). The summary ends with a charming remark in Lectura II­I 20.25: ‘All this I truly summarized from his own words to the best of my ability.’ The necessity of redemption follows from the ontological insight that God does not act in vain (frustra). Humans would have been created in vain, if they miss their proper destiny.79 God either leads us towards this destiny, or he does not. In the latter case, God’s work is in vain. In the former case, restoration is necessary because of the fall.80 The second thesis of Anselm rests on the axiom that everybody is unjust who does not give God what he deserves. He who is unjust and violates God’s goodness and justice does not receive eternal salvation.81 However, does powerlessness not constitute an excuse and only require a merciful response: let bygones be bygones? Duns observes that Anselm rejects both alternatives. Human powerlessness and unwil­lingness to react appropriately are precisely the root of human sin. Sin is not an excuse. We ought not to sin and sin is something we ought not to have. Human persons ought to respect and to honor the good God. Violation of goodness does not make up an apology. Sin does not make anything good; it is intrinsically reprehensible. If a servant cannot fulfill his task, because he falls into a ditch, while his lord has warned him, then it is not the case that he is not to blame. Life is not cheap. Duns also deals with the point of forgiveness. Adolf Harnack severely criticized An­selm, since Anselm’s God lacks human grandeur: we can forgive in a 78

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Lectura III 20.12: ‘Ad quaestionem istam respondendum est quod ipsa est mere theologica, et Anselmus totum librum Cur Deus homo propter eam solvendam fecisse videtur et ibi videtur solvisse eam.’ Lectura III 20.13: ‘Frustra fieret rationalis creatura, nisi posset finem suum consequi. Sed summum Bonum propter se amare et ei per cognitionem inhaerere est finis creaturae rationalis. [...] Deus deducit hominem ad hunc finem.’ See Anselm, Cur Deus homo? I 1-4, and the conclusion in chapter 4. See Lectura III 20.17-18, where Cur Deus homo? I 24 is extensively quoted.

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magnanimous way, but God cannot do so. Do God’s pride and ambition prevent him to forgive wholeheartedly with gentleness? When Harnack depicts Anselm’s theology, he paints man as a gentle soul, but Anselm as a harsh person and Anselm’s God as a cruel God.82 However, Duns Scotus takes a different line. He observes that unfounded forgiveness releases man from that which is his due. In that case, God would forgive on the basis of a sinful situation without being aware what is at stake by accepting sin as something acceptable. Cheap mercy is ridiculous: To attribute such mercy to God is ridiculous. If God forgives guilt and makes man blessed, then he beatifies man because of his sin, since he is powerless to satisfy and to make up for what is wrong, which is that he ought not to have sinned. This is just what to sin consists in. This view is foolish.83 To ascribe such mercy to God is ridiculous. The problem is that if God automatically would save man, man could not ‘make up for’ his guilt. Thus God would be doing man an injustice. However, modern law makes it difficult to have an adequate idea of what is at stake here, because the modern notion of punishment differs much from the old notions of poena and punire. Recall that poena is linked with poenitens (= penitent). The point is whether the penitent can bear all the effects. For this reason, Anselm’s answer is christological. Third, purely human satisfaction is impossible. Again and again, Duns shows that Anselm phrases his arguments in terms of consistency dilemmas. If somebody wills to make up for something, he ought to give what is more costly than that to which his sin is related. He should not have sinned and his offering

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See Harnack, Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte III (11890) 341-60. Harnack enjoyed a mild character, but, paradoxically, his criticisms hit hard on the mild Anselm and his chapter on Anselm piles up wild charges which are still repeated naively. However, compare Southern, Saint Anselm. A Portrait in a Landscape, i: ‘Whatever he touched looked different afterwards.’ Lectura III 20.18: ‘Talem enim misericordiam Deo attribuere derisio est. Si autem remittat culpam et faciat hominem beatum, tunc beatificat hominem propter peccatum, quia scilicet habet impotentiam satisfaciendi et reddendi, quam non deberet habere, quod est habere peccatum. Quod fatuum est dicere.’ See Anselm, Cur Deus homo? I 22. ‘Poena’ is a famous, and notorious, term in the history of religion and law. The eventual meaning of ‘poena’ in Anselm’s hamartiological terminology is death: ‘The wages of sin is death’ (Romans 6:23).

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of atonement has to excel the cost.84 Only God can satisfy for all creation and its modalities. This line of thinking is also clear: We cannot arrive beyond the point of doing what is good, little and innocent peole as we are. All our good and best doings are owed to God. Morality and worship are not just a means of satisfaction.85 Fourth, Christ ought to satisfy by his death. As sweet as sin was for man, so bitter should the victory be for God. Only the incomparable One can bear everything. At the end, Duns Scotus rounds off his excursus with a note of charm and admiration, addressed to the magic father of scholasticism himself.86 How does Duns Scotus react to the Anselmian position itself? The central issue con­cerns the necessity of redemption. Duns carefully points out what kind of necessity can be involved and what kinds cannot. The relevant necessity is not factual or ontological. The necessity of the consequent has to be rejected; only the necessity of the consequence is accep­table (necessitas consequentiae). His illustration makes the point about consequential necessi­ty perfectly clear: If I am running, then I am moving. The connection is necessary, but both the antecedent (my running) and the consequent (my moving) are simply contingent.87 Redemption could also be possible in a way which differs from redemption by the death of Christ.88 84

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Duns renders this argument of Anselm in Lectura III 20.19 as follows: ‘Satisfactio ista, quae debetur, non potuit fieri ab homine puro, quia 22 cap. I libri arguit: ‘Non satisfacit aliquis pro peccato hominis, nisi reddat aliquid maius quam sit illud pro quo peccatum facere non debuerat.’ Sed pro omni eo quod est vel esse potest citra Deum, non debuit peccasse. Ergo non potest satisfacere, nisi reddat aliquid maius omni creatura facta et possibili fieri.’ Lectura III 20.20: ‘Si homo peccator reddat Deo solum illud tantum quod deberet reddere Deo, si innocens esset, et non peccasset, non est satisfactio pro peccato, sed omnia quae potest homo facere, (scilicet Deum honorare, cor humiliter Deo offerre, ‘misericordiam dandi et dimittendi’ et quidquid – breviter – potest), debet homo, si non peccasset.’ This theme colors the whole of Cur Deus homo? I 20-21. Duns’ rendering finishes in Lectura III 20.24-25 as follows: ‘Haec ille (sc. Anselmus). Quia ergo vita eius fuit tam nobilis, mors eius fuit multum accepta Deo, ut per illam satisfacere posset. Haec veraciter, ut potui, ex dictis eius collegi.’ In the meantime, Duns has shown his art of abstracting a book: full of insight, dense, to the point, exemplary. See Anselm, Cur Deus homo? II 2 and 14. See Lectura III 20.28: ‘Si curro, moveor, in qua necessitate stat quod antecedens sit simpli­ citer contingens, et similiter consequens, quia me currere est simpliciter contingens, sicut contingens fuit ipsum praevideri passurum. Nulla ergo est necessitas nisi consequentiae.’ Cf. CF 132-7 and Vos, ‘The Indispensability of Freewill,’ Medioevo 30 (2005) 180-5. See Lectura III 20.31: ‘Amor quem offerre debuit satisfaciendo, debuit excedere amorem cuius­cumque creaturae et esse maior actu amoris quem fecit peccando. Iste tamen actus,

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Necessity of the consequence or implicative necessity obtains with respect to Christ’s death: If God ordained to redeem man in this way, then Chris­tus homo redeems man by his death, and if he foreknew that he would suffer, then he would suffer. The reality of Christ’s suffering and death must itself be radically contingent, and we are aware that redemption itself is contingent. Redemption is contingent, since the election towards eternal glory is contingent. Nothing is in vain. Things are as they are willed. Predesti­nation is the summit of humanity and human dignity.89 God works his own deeds which enjoy a specific meaning and intention. The area where they are performed is history and God’s history is the history of salvation. Open contingency, which is diametrically opposed to diachronically closed contingency, is the key for Duns Scotus’ doctrine of God’s creative and redemptive action. The theory of acceptance is the context which determines the meanings of ‘reward’ (praemium), ‘to merit’ (mereri) and ‘to satisfy’ (satisfacere):90 Mereri is the acceptance of an act by God who grants what has been done.91

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convertendo se in Deum per amorem, in sua formali ratione non est maior omni creatura, sicut nec amor Christi quo dilexit Deum fuit infinitus, quia creatus. Unde ipse (sc. Anselmus) vult omnino habere infinitatem, ubi nulla est ex formali ratione obiecti rei.’ Lectura III 20.29: ‘Praedestinatio hominis fuit contingens, non necessaria: sicut enim Deus ab aeterno contingenter praedestinavit hominem, et nullo modo necessario, cum nihil necessario operetur respectu aliquorum extra se ordinando illa ad bonum, sic potuit non praedestinasse. Nec est inconveniens hominem frustrari a beatidudine, nisi presupposita praedestinatione hominis. Nulla igitur fuit necessitas redemptionis eius absolute, sicut nec eius praedestinationis.’ The modern connotations of ‘to merit’ make it a confusing term. In medieval theology, the structu­ral level of mereri concerns: receiving grace, being justified, ‘gratified.’ Compare in Dutch the difference between ‘dienen’ (= to serve) and ‘verdienen’ = to merit. The modern interpretation of mereri: ‘verdienen’ is wrong. The medieval meaning is: dienen (= to serve well). Cf. the word: emeritus – someone who served well and has finished his service. Counter Reformation/Reformation conflicts are no clue to understanding Anselm’s and Duns’ doctrines of grace and reconciliation. McGrath’s Iustitia Dei I-II also leads us astray, as much literature does. Cf. Vos et al. (eds.), Duns Scotus on Divine Love, chapter 5. On merit, see Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 108-9, 113-19 and 156-64. Lectura II 4-5.17: ‘Acceptatio actus a Deo, qui dat factum, est mereri’ Duns’ doctrine of the eternal happiness of the good angel is elucidating too. See Lectura II 4-5.17: ‘Illam attingit per operationem meritoriam, quae acceptur a Deo. Oportet igitur ut actum habeat acceptatum a Deo, qui est meritorius, ut propter illum det quod est maius.’

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The earnestness of our factual existence dances on the chord of God’s eternal will. The openness of our reality is the field of his freedom. The suffering of Jesus Christ was a free suffering: I reply to our question: Everything that Christ did for our salvation, is only necessary unless presupposed in the divine ordering by which he so ordered it to be done. Christ’s suffering was only necessary in the sense of implicative ne­cessity (necessitas conse­quentiae). However, yet the whole was contingent, the antecedent as well as the conse­quent. Therefore, we ought to believe that this human suffering is also a matter of justice.92 We follow Duns Scotus. God’s restoration is contingent, Christ’s death is contingent. He preferred to die, and not to be silenced: Therefore, he (as I believe) did what he did chiefly in order to win us over to loving him and because he willed that man more closely cleaves to God.93 Duns Scotus sees a harmony and internal consistency between what God achieves and the way in which he achieves it. God did not accept anything less than the death of God the Son to redeem his people. He could have acted differently, but he did it in his own way which reveals in a great way to us how much it mattered to him. His decisions reveal his heart. His sacrifice reveals the cost of what is costly: The fact that Christ willed to suffer in this way, proceeded from his intense love to reach the goal and from his intense love for us by which he loved us because of God.94

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Lectura III 20.36-37: ‘Dico quod omnia haec quae facta sunt a Christo circa redemptionem nostram, non fuerunt necessaria nisi praesupposita ordinatione divina qua sic ordinavit facere. Et tunc tantum necessitate consequentiae necessarium fuit Christum pati, sed tamen totum fuit contingens, et antecedens et consequens. (37) Verumtamen credendum est quod homo ille passus est et propter iustitiam.’ Lectura III 20.38: ‘Ideo ad alliciendum nos ad amorem sui, hoc praecipue (ut credo) fecit et quia hominem voluit magis Deo teneri.’ This point of view is in perfect agreement with Cur Deus homo?, book II. Lec­tura III 20.43: ‘Quod ergo Christus voluit sic pati, processit ex amore intenso finis et nostri amoris quo dilexit nos propter Deum.’

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What accounts for reconciliation and atonement? The question of who alone is able to redeem is decisive. Scotus draws the ontological consequences from the tradition of Anselm, Richard of Saint Victor and Bonaventure. The specific foundation of Duns Scotus’ christolo­gy shapes the context of his doctrine of redemption. God’s best possible love is the foundation of Christ’s best possible love by which he does what he does for us and for our salvation.95 Here, God’s love in Christ is the point of departure. Moreover, Duns Scotus is an actualist thinker. It is Scotian vistas which matter: What happens, has to be explained. We know the facts. We know that Christ – the Deus homo – suffered and died. Then, the precious gifts of his suffering and life by his death have to be the most precious expressions of his love. There we are, for we are at the point that matters. God matters. Love matters. Atonement and reconci­liation matter.96 Scotus invested all power of his mind into this doctrine only once – in Oxford, in 1303. 1302 and 1303 were impressive years: 1302 – the largest part of Ordinatio I and Reportatio Parisiensis I, and 1303 – Reportatio Parisiensis IV and Lectura III. However, only in Lectura III 18-20 we have his first design of what is basically a reflection on God’s specific way of doing things. The dominant pattern is that of ontological openness. The level of argument is the level of freedom. The openness of the new why?-questions has a solid foundation: It is all anchored in God’s identity. For Scotus, the primary interest is the theologi­ cal and philosophical explanation of what God has done and does in history. Then we see a continuous line running from the manger of Bethle­hem and the cross of Calvary to the greatest possible love.97 There is a continuous line of development, running from Anselm to Scotus, but there is also theoretical distance in the historical developments. This space and the dilemmas elicited by later courses of thought have to explored, 95

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This universe of Christological thinking remarkably differs from the shadows of the traditional surveys. God is not the slave of absolute justice (ius talionis). Both the theologians who defend this and those thinkers who attack this, breathe in a sphere which remarkably differs from the classic Western doctrine of atonement itself. Duns Scotus’ approach is akin to the drive of the second Book of Anselm’s Cur Deus homo? The main theme of Anselm’s Proslogion is that God is the best possible person, and the main theme of the second Book of his Cur deus homo? that God is the best possible agent. He who is the best possible person acts in the best possible ways. See Lectura III 20.44: ‘Dico tamen quod laesio illa, sicut et illaesio vel vita, valuit tantum pro quanto fuit acceptata.’ Many interpretations neglect the supralapsarian overall structure of Scotus’ Christology. The qualifications: Adoptionist, Nestorian, homo assumptus Christology are simply unfounded. For instance, for his way of answering the question of the impeccability of Jesus Christ, see the next section § 3.6: ‘Adoptionism?.’

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analyzed and assessed anew. We have to reconsider the whole of our precious heritage, but Anselm is crucial beceause of his distinction between implicative necessity and the necessitas praecedens. His innovations are the logical cradle of scholastic thought and launched the dynamics of Western thinking in a unique way. Duns Scotus observes that Anselm’s proposals can be kept according to such an interpretation.98 3.6

Adoptionism?

God’s individuality is defined by its maximal and optimal individuality. If we elaborate on individuality that is as perfect as possible, then we get the properties of God: the best possible properties are the properties of the best possible Person. On the other hand, there are created individuals and their natures. Now the question arises: How can God be as close as possible to the persons of his creation? Poly­theism tells us: There is no need to do so, because we already move in divine reality. Judaism and Islam have quite a different message: God can as Creator approach his creation, but incarnation cannot be a true possibility, since human individuality would defile divine dignity. Christian theology is divided. According to nineteenth-century liberal theology, God cannot be truly free, nor infinitely generous – God is too great to become a little child, but orthodox theology focuses on incarnation. Duns considers the universality of God’s possibilities to assume the whole of created potentials to absorb them. To assume is to absorb creaturely potentials. Every nature can be entirely depen­dent on God in its individuality. God can assume (assumere) everything, but He cannot personify (personare) everything. He can only personify a personal nature, like the human nature. The question of Lectura III 1.1 concerns whether it is possible for the human nature to be united with the Word personaliter.99 Therefore, Duns Scotus’ theology of incarnation is a kind of assumption theology, belonging to the family of Logos-christologies, and not to the family of Spirit-christologies.100 98

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Lectura III 20.39: ‘Si autem volumus salvare Anselmum, possumus dicere quod rationes suae procedunt supposita divina ordinatione qua sic ordinaverit hominem redimi et ita videtur processus quod sic noluerit aliquis ex praeordinatione sua maius acceptare quam mortem Filii sui; tamen necessitas nulla absoluta fuit.’ In fact, Anselm’s expression rationes necessariae refers to so-called sound arguments. See KN 44-5, and also KN 45-7. Consult Mavrodes, Belief in God, 23-5 (22-31). Alluntis and Wolter, Scotus. God and Creatures, xxvii. Cf. § 3.4. Reportatio Parisiensis III asks many new questions, but within the same theoretical framework. Ordinatio III follows Lectura III. Quaestio xix of the Quodlibet reads: ‘Utrum in

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A witty and helpful characterization of Scotus’ methodology in theology sees him as the theologian’s philosopher par excellence (Richard Cross). The psychological counterpart of this characterization is the feat that his huge œuvre hardly shows any sign of wishful thinking.101 Duns Scotus is not a ‘wishful thinking’ philosopher theologian. He has no dearest ideas or preferences. When some readers may get a different impression, they overlook the robust consistency of the whole of Scotus’ systematic thought where the so-called necessary theology (theologia necessaria) and necessary philosophy (we may add) are dominant. He certainly has his own obsession – he is obsessed to make new discoveries, but he is not thinking in terms of Thomism or Scotism, let alone in terms of Nominalism. Scotus concentrates on the dilemmas that the main tradition of the theolo­gy of the Church bestows on him. His problems are given. Certainly, there are limitations to be observed, but the limitations of his theory formation are to be located in historical questions. In the Middle Ages there is no historical consciousness to solve problems which originate in the vicissitudes of the historical process. Thus, there are no historical analyses to explain the growth of problems. However, this feature touches all thinking of the Middle Ages and the early modern centuries. Such limitations hardly matter in the ontology of Jesus Christ. The possibility of incarnati­on is excluded by Greek philosophy, because contingent divine agency is impossible in a necessary cosmos, but how can the ontology of Duns Scotus’ tradition cope with the unique status of Christ who has come? In this light, I now assess a few alternative views. Adoptionism is an interesting test case. We have to addd immediately that a reference to historical Adoptionism does not help for grasping Scotus’ line of argument and neither does historical Nestorianism in the case of Thomas Aquinas’ christology. However, according to the orthodox tradition, incarnation is based on a kind of assumere and is to adopt not somet­hing like assumere? What can the condemnation of Adoptionism mean to a medieval mind?

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Christo unitas naturae humanae ad Verbum sit sola dependentia naturae assumptae ad personam Verbi.’ See Schoonenberg’s attempt to solve the Christological dilemmas along the lines of a Spirit-Christology: De Geest het Woord en de Zoon. However, a Christology of the Spirit is in fact a pneumatology of Jesus the Son: Jesus is a unique bearer of the Spirit, not the Giver. Cf. Berkhof, Christian Faith, part V): ‘Jesus the Son’ (267-337), and Schoonenberg, The Christ. Of course, there is the modern way of seeing Scotus involved in the battle of -isms, but this modern fashion is quite unhelpful for interpreting and explaining scholastic pre-Enlightenment thinking. Scotus is also the philosophers’ philosopher par excellence, but that is another story. The expression ‘a philosop­hers’ philosopher’ is Gilbert Ryle’s.

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The condemnation of Adoptionism introduces the issue: Is Jesus Christ God’s adopted son (filius adoptivus)?102 In abstracto, Duns is aware that there are complications dating from the past. The Fathers rejected the concepts of adoption and adopted, but does adoptare not simply mean to assume a child in Latin? Duns does not reject terms a priori and considers the terminology at stake by dealing with the semantical field of the term ‘adoptatus.’ Lectura III 10 spells out the meaning of adoptatus as follows: 1. there is an inheritance the adoptatus is related to,103 2. the adopted child is in itself a stranger (extraneus) to the adoptive parents,104 and 3. the adoptatus is adopted by a gracious acceptance of those who adopt. The first and third conditions are met in christology, but Christ is not alien to the Father: He received his identity from God himself. This feature does not charaterize an adopted son. Then, he must be a natural son (filius naturalis). Only the second condition throws a spanner in the works. This Son naturally belongs to the Father (Reportatio Parisiensis III 10.2). What do we have to say now about the term filius adoptivus (adopted son), apart from the battle around Adoptionism in the history of the Church?105 There is the dogmatic legacy of the sancti: Christ is not an adopted son of God.106 What does the systematic content amount to on the semantical level (de virtute vocis)? The adopted son and what an adopted son is, are not as such linked with the right of inheritance, but the coming of Christ implies his right as an heir, since a ‘personal’ union requires this.107 The central notion is generatio naturalis, because his existence is anchored in an already existing nature and identity. In Duns’ 102 103

104 105

106 107

See Lectura III 11. See Lectura III 10.14: ‘Ad hoc quod aliquis sit filius adoptivus respectu alicuius hereditatis, requiritur quos eius generationem naturalem non necessario [...] consequatur gratia ad illud bonum.’ See Lectura III 10.7: ‘Adoptio includit extraneitatem personae.’ Adoptivus means: adopted child. Medieval ‘adoptio’ can also mean: choice. Mind that German translate ‘assumere’ and ‘adoptare’ in the same way: ‘anneh­me­n.’ Duns’ linguistic feeling is akin to this intuition. For historical Adoptionism, see Grillmeier, Christ in Tradition, s.v.­­ ‘adoptio.’ See John of Damascus, De fide orthodoxa, chapter 56, and Peter Lombard, Sententiae III 10, chapter 2. Reportatio Parisiensis III 10.5: ‘Hoc requiritur unio personalis de congruo, immo magis de congruo quam passio exhibita pro aliis, sed si aliquis ex generatione naturali haberet concomitanter passionem Christi sibi applicatam, de congruo concomitanter haberet.’

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wording, Christ is no filius adoptivus, but an adoptatus, because the Word (Christ) has taken the human nature.108 ‘Adoptatus’ and ‘assumptus’ may function as synonyms and Duns has no essential complaints about words as such, but the dogma tradition involved a change of idiom. There was also the traditional problem whether Christ could be called a creature (crea­tura). Everything has become by the Creator (John 1), but how can the Creator be called a creature? Had Arius not been condemned precisely for this reason? Of course, Duns Scotus does not deny that the human nature of Jesus Christ was created. The universal loses its priority. Individuals and individualities are primary. A predicate is related to the individual (suppositum). If we say of Christ: He is a creature,109 then this implies that he is this creature,110 just as we say: He is a man.111 Christologically there is a fundamental difference between being man and being a man. This difference is implicit in Greek and Latin, because the indefinite article is missing. Christ is not a creature, although his human nature has been created.112 A famous modern interpretation of Duns Scotus’ christology believes that Duns thought that the human nature to be assumed is in fact an assumed man (homo assumptus). Déodat de Basly (1862-1937) and Léon Seiller defended that Duns Scotus held a kind of homo assumptus christolo­gy, as many modern christologies in fact do.113 In 1945 Seiller republished Déodat de Basly’s Le

108 109

110 111

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Compare Reportatio Parisiensis III 10 and Lectura III 10 with Ordinatio III 10. See Reportatio Parisiensis III 11.25: ‘Esse creatura aequaliter dicitur de natura et de supposito, ideo non per hoc quod convenit naturae, potest dici de supposito.’ The individual (suppositum) has a determinate nature n and is a this: this n. The entire line of argument is anti-Platonist and anti-essentialist – see Reportatio Parisiensis III 11.9. The human nature is not a man, but Christus homo has two natures. Compare Reportatio Parisiensis III 11.26: ‘Non sequitur, Christus est homo creatus.’ See Reportatio Parisiensis III 11.8-11. See Reportatio Parisiensis III 11.25: ‘Igitur licet natura in Christo posset dici creatura, non tamen propter hoc de supposito ut de Christo, quia igitur non posset dici de eo nisi ratione naturae humanae et illa non sufficit ad denominandum suppositum talis naturae nec ratione alterius in Christo potest Christus dici natura.’ See Reportatio Parisiensis III 11.10-11. See Maria Burger’s elaborate treatment in her Personalität im Horizont absoluter Prädestination, 166-203. For comments on the homo assumptus interpretation, see also Cross’s prudent judgment in his The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, 184-92. In spite of his prudent judgment Cross clearly rejects the homo assumptus interpretation: see op. cit., 31-2, 190-1 and 224-6. Duns and his medieval colleagues did not have a precise idea of historical Nestorianism, but the way Duns refutes what he understands by Nestorianism, makes it clear for Richard Cross that the homo assumptus theory was unacceptable for Duns. Cross

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Sacré-Coeur selon le bienheureux Jean Duns Scot.114 First, De Basly deals with the preeminence of the heart of Christ (25-46). The heart of flesh and blood is crucial in the life of humans and, so, the heart of Jesus has to be the focus of Christian worship. The basis of De Basly’s christology is a mystical veneration of the heart of Jesus Christ: You have to love your God with all your heart. However, the heart of Jesus Christ is not only the center of Christian worship, but it is also the center of the entire universe (47-63) and the principal motif of creation (65-89), but He is also God’s most magnificent creation (91-108). Chapter 5 surveys what the Church Fathers taught about the Cor Christi (10930). Scholastic views are also dealt with (131-61) and then Duns Scotus only comes in in section (142-50). In fact, the role of Duns Scotus is marginal in he main work of Déodat de Basly, who had his own personal agenda in theology. Seiller follows the same pattern of thinking. He also ignores the personality of the Word by juxtaposing the Person of the Word and the human person Jesus is (homo assumptus). This approach is read into Scotus’ christology.115 Scotus doea not teach that Jezus Christ consists of two persons. God incarnate has two natures: the divine nature is his individual nature and his human nature is a common nature. The approach of Maria Burger assumes that the Reportationes seem to steer another course than the Lectura and the Ordinatio. This option implies that both the Lectura and the Ordina­tio have an Oxonian origin. There is a remarkable tendency in Scotist studies which may be called the Paris preference. This tendency of contrasting the Oxonian John Duns with the Parisian Scotus is a source of surprise. Scotus was an Oxford man in every inch for the whole of his life. In Oxford he made his discoveries which would change the course of Western thought. Maria Burger’s monograph dates from 1994 and her formulations are carefully argued for, but the viewpoint of Paris versus Oxford is wrong. Apart from the question of the intrinsic importance and probability of the Paris preference, we simply have to pay attention to the chronology of the involved texts. The Prologue of the Ordinatio and Ordinatio I – and, of course, Lectura I and II – are earlier than the Reportatio Parisiensis, although the main part of Ordinatio I and the first parts of Ordina­tio II belong to the same year as Reportatio Parisiensis I. However, Ordinatio III, based on Lectura III (Oxford,

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does not deal with the text critical issue, neither does Maria Burger. Burger herself also rejects the homo assumptus interpretation Léon Seiller (ed.), Déodat de Basly. Le Sacré-Coeur. Exposé selon la doctrine du bienheureux Jean Duns Scot, Paris 51946 (Lille-Paris 11900). See Léon Seiller, Quelques réflexions sur L’assumptus homo et la christologie traditionelle, Rennes 1951, 24-9.

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1303), must be later than Reportatio Parisiensis III (winter 1305).116 During his last Parisian years, Duns Scotus invested significant effort into Ordinatio III-IV. Their textual history differs significantly from the vicissitudes of Ordinatio I and especially of the incomplete Ordinatio II. So, when we separate Reportatio Parisiensis I-III from Lectura I-III and Ordinatio I-III, we create an unusual and incoherent picture of Duns’development. Then, in the second half of 1302 he suddenly steers away from what he had taught before, but in 1303 he resumes his familiar views in order to drop them again during the academic year 130405. Such a reconstruction is simply improbable. The homo assumptus position is not only incompatible with the overall consistency of Duns’ thought in Lectura I-III, Ordinatio I-III and Reportatio Parisiensis I-III, but is also based on wrong interpretations of propositions like Deus fierat homo (God became man) and Homo fierat Deus (Man became God). It also partially depends on textual mistakes. Bonaventure and Duns Scotus realize that in this context homo cannot mean: a man or the man. We have to be aware that the Latin language has no articles. According to Bonaventure, the proposition is true, if homo refers to the singular Jesus, the individual of the human nature that is assumed by the Word, but such treatments should not be confused with sentences like ‘Socrates is a human person’ or ‘The man Socrates is now standing here.’ A famous passage from Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 plays an important role in the development of the homo assumptus interpretation, because a sentence taken from Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 has a key role in constructing the homo assumptus interpretation. A pro­blem of establishing the critical text is usually overlooked by the defenders of the homo assumptus interpretation. There is no critical edition of the Reportatio Parisiensis, but Balic provided a provisional critical text edition of Reportatio Parisiensis III 7, where we read: God wills that he is loved by him who can love him above all.117 The homo assumptus interpreters follow the text of the Wadding/Vivès editions:

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See § 1.4 and § 1.6. Compare DPhil § 2.2 and §§ 2.4-2.5. For Reportatio Parisiensis III quaestio 7 c. a.: ‘Tertio, vult se diligi ab illo qui potest eum summe diligere.’ One reading has: eo. See Balic, Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, Sibenik 1933, 14-15. Veldhuis uses the correct text – see Veldhuis, ‘Zur hermeneutischen Bedeutung der supralapsarischen Christologie des Johannes Duns Scotus,’ in Schneider (ed.), Menschwerdung Gottes – Hoffnung des Menschen, 85-9. See § 3.3.

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God wills that he is loved by another person who can love him above all.118 Here, the textual foundation of the homo assumptus interpretation is a wrong reading. This approach is misguided. Duns Scotus discusses the possibility whether the Word can assume a person, and his solution explicitly denies that the Person of the Word assumes or can assume another person.119 The immediate context of Duns’ view is his supralapsarian christology. The incarnation rests on God’s love and He primarily loves himself: the incarnation is an extension of God loving God. It starts with: God loves himself.120 The second moment is: God loves himself for others.121 The third moment is: God wills that he is loved by him who can love him most.122 3.6.1 The Key Issue When he deals with the notion of an accident, he distinctly places an unusual comment: sine aliqua assertione (Lectura III 1.21). He is aware that here he is in a tight spot, not only betraying modesty, but also some theoretical embarrassment, when he declares that what he has to offer, is a hypothetical answer: This can be clarified in this way, but without a definite solution.123

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Reportata Parisiensia III 7 quaestio 4 c. a.: ‘Vult se diligi ab alio qui potest eum summe diligere.’ Lectura Oxoniensis III 5 quaestio 2: ‘Utrum persona fuit assumpta a Verbo vel potuit assumi.’ See Lectura III 5.30-33. Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4, c. a., in Balic, Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 14: ‘Primo, Deus diligit se.’ Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4, c. a., in Balic, Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 14: ‘Secundo, diligit se aliis.’ Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4, c. a., in Balic, Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 14-15: ‘Tertio, vult se diligi ab illo qui potest eum summe diligere.’ Lectura III 1.21: ‘Quod sine aliqua assertione sic potest declarari.’

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When Duns eventually defines the crucial notion of accidental dependence he needs, he almost makes an apology: ‘I do not know a better term for it.’124 Christological dilemmas are key dilemmas and they elicit unusual challenges which ask for unusual efforts of theoretical creativity. 3.6.2 Christ’s Impeccability Finally, another issue, namely the issue of Christ’s impeccability, allows us to refute the homo assumptus hypothesis. The property of impeccability functions as a watershed both in the philosophical and keryg­matic theories of God and in christology. If impeccability is abandoned in the theory of divine properties, it plays no role in christology, but if impeccability is accepted in the doctrine of God, the property of being impeccable is a clue to different types of christology. In addition to variants of the Christology of the conciliar tradition, nineteenth- and twentieth-century christology has seen a wealth of ‘anthropocentric’ christologies ‘from below.’125 We can classify modern orthodox and liberal christologies in informal and intuitive ways, but the theory of divine properties can also function as a precise analytical tool to explore the ramifi­ cations of a particular theology. Thus, we can distinguish between three types of christology according to which Jesus Christ enjoyed: a) neither sinlessness (impeccantia), nor impeccability, b) sinlessness (impeccantia), but not impeccability (impeccabilitas), c) impeccability. It will be clear that being impeccable sets Jesus Christ on the side of God. Only God is impec­cable, if there is anyone to be impeccable at all, and if Jesus Christ is impeccable, his possible actions lie within the range of the action possibilities of God. A christology of impeccability rules out any Adoptionism, homo assumptus christology and any from below christology. This impeccability is a litmus test for investigating Scotus’ christology by looking at Lectura III 12: ‘Regarding the twelfth distinction, it is asked whether Christ could sin.’126 After a series of objections, we meet Duns’ resounding sed contra:

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Lectura III 1.22: ‘Nec scio alio nomine eam nominare.’ Compare, for instance, McGrath, The Making of Modern German Christology. See Berkhof, The Christian Faith, 267-9. Lectura III 12.1: ‘Circa distinctionem duodecimam quaeritur utrum Christus potuit peccare.’

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The counter argument runs: If Christ can sin, then God can sin. In this way, he can be condemned, and, consequently, he would not be God.127 Because Christ is the Savior by being the comprehensor, he is blessed (beatus) par excellence. He is already impeccable as beatus, let alone on the basis of the union with the Word. Howe­ver, we can also use the a fortiori argument: This man (Deus homo) is impeccable, since he is God: his nature is personified in this way.128 Christ is not only free from actual sins, but also from original sin. Again, Scotus is on the side of Anselm: the body does not infect the soul in a sinful way, but the soul infects the body.129 Some scholars say that Duns denies original sin, but the fact is that for John Duns sin is not primarily something physical. Matter is not sinful. Matter is no evil. We observe also here the dynamics of the ongoing emancipation from doing theology in the way of biotheology. Christ is not only sinless, but he is also impeccable, but in which sense is Mary, his Mother, without sin?130 Duns deals with this question in Lectura Oxoniensis III 3.1 and he does not only start with an array of authorities against the view of Mary’s immaculate conception, but he also presents and discusses the common view.131 When Duns raises the question whether Mary had also been conceived in original sin and was later on cleansed from it, he asserts that it is possible that she had not been conceived in original sin.The common view implies that an exception to this rule is not possible. This rule does not apply to Jesus Christ, because at his birth not a new human individual came into the world, but the Word assumed human existence. However, the history of a human individual is a different story. Nevertheless, a challenging possibility 127 128 129 130

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Lectura III 12.5: ‘Contra. Si Christus potest peccare, igitur Deus potest peccare – et sic potest damnari, et per consequens non esset Deus.’ Lectura III 2.40: ‘Ille homo esset impeccabilis, ‘quia Deus:’ quia enim natura est sic personata.’ See Lectura Oxoniensis III 32.60-67. The Mariological texts are to be found in: Carlo Balic, Ioannis Duns Scoti Theologiae Maria­nae Elementa, Sibenik 1933, idem, Ioannes Duns Scotus Doctor Immaculate Conceptionis., Rome 1954, and in the critical edition of Lectura Oxoniensis III, Rome 2003. See also Wolter, John Duns Scotus, Mary’s Architect, Quincy 1993, and idem, John Duns Scotus. Four Questions on Mary, Sant Bonaventure 2000. For Ordinatio III 3, quaestio 1, see op. cit., 29-42. Ordinatio III 3 says Ad quaestionem: ‘Ad quastionem dico Deus potuit facere.’ See Lectura Oxoniensis III 1.1-31.

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arises: a human individual can as such be touched by original sin, whereas God frees that individual from the start from original sin. If God can free us from original sin at time tm, he can also do so at time t1. So far, Duns only dealt with possibilities. Then, he shows that the counter-arguments do not necessarily apply at Mary.132 After an explanation of his theory of structural moments Duns concludes that it is possible that Mary was not conceived in orginal sin, because it is possible that the passio Christi freed her from sin from the start – both from actual sin and from original sin: Therefore, we can say that it is possible that the blessed Virgin was not conceived in original sin. This does not detract the universal redemption of her Son, as we have shown before. It can again be confirmed that in virtue of this the passion of Christ is directed in a more direct and principal way on destroying original guilt than on destroying actual guilt. Just as then the whole Trinity kept her from every actual guilt on the basis of the foreknowledge of the passion of Christ, in the same way the Trinity did keep her from original guilt.133 The focus is still on the passio Christi and if the passio Christi can effect that Mary is not guilty of actual sin, the passion of Christ can also effect that Mary is not guilty of original sin. The argument rests on the parallelization of actual and original sin and guilt – a parallelization already found with Thomas Aquinas and Henry of Ghent.134 Whether this is in fact the case, only God knows. To my mind, the conclusion of studying the whole of Duns’ argumentations can be that his Mariological assessment is sober and balanced.135 132 133

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See Lectura III 1.45-50. Lectura III 3.58 contains the conclusio: ‘Potest igitur dici quod possibile sit beatam Virginem non fuisse conceptam in peccato originali. Nec hoc derogat universali redemptioni Filli sui, ut supra ostensum est. Et iterum confirmari potest, quia ex quo passio Christi immediatius et principalius ordinatur ad delendum reatum originalem quam actualem. Sicut tunc tota Trinitas ex praevisione passionis Christi applicatae Virgini praeservavit eam ab omni actuali, sic et ab omni originali.’ We may still ask why then the passion of Christ does not effect that no Christian is guilty of original and of actual sin. This view is shared by Aquilinus (Jacobus) Emmen O.F.M. See Emmen, ‘Het getuigenis van Landulphus Caracciolo over Scotus’ dispuut ten gunste der Onbevlekte Ontvan­- genis,’ Doctor Subtilis. Vier studies over Johannes Duns Scotus, Collectanea Franciscana Neerlandica VII 1, ’s-Hertogenbosch 1946, 120. My personal copy of Balic’s Ioannis Duns Scoti theologiae marianae elementa is the book Balic gave to Emmen. There are notes

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There are other questions to be asked. There was a mother – the Mother of the Lord – and there has undoubtedly been a wedding beween Joseph and Mary, but was the relationship between Mary and Joseph a true matrimony? In antiquity the views on family and matrimony were quite different from those in the Christian Middle Ages and the medieval convictions differ from what the moderns accept. Duns follows the Catholic tradition that Joseph and Mary have had no sexual intercourse before the birth of Jesus. Moreover, according to this Catholic view, the brothers and sisters of Jesus were no true brothers and sisters of Jesus, but relatives in a wider sense, because Mary is semper virgo. However, if Joseph and Mary had no true matrimonial life as husband and wife, can their relationship be called a real matrimony? Duns discusses this question in Ordinatio IV 30 quaestio 2: Whether there was a true matrimony between the blessed Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph?136 There is the gift of marriage. The English has two concepts: the wedding and the marriage, and the matrimony – the time when the couple is married. According to John Duns, it is also acceptable not to marry. Jeremiah and John the Baptist were virgins, and, of course, John Duns was too. However, everything obeys to the rule: […], if it pleases to God. His will decides. On the other hand, according to the medieval intuition, husband and wife have always to please one another, if either the husband or the wife wants to be pleased. So, in reasonable circumstances, on both sides, it is not acceptable to say: No! For this reason, we have to ask: How can a matrimony be compatible with chastity and continence? John Duns’ solution is: Saint Joseph did never ask for!137 The vow of chastity can belong to the life of husband and wife. A husband can live as a virgin, committed to the quality of celibacy.

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expressing Emmen’s cares that Ware argues for the actuality of the immaculate conception, but Duns for its possibility. See also Emmen, ‘Wilhelm von Ware. Duns Scotus’ Vorläufer in der Immakulatalehre,’ Antonianum 40 (Rome) 1965. Cf. § 1.6.2. Emmen also offered a synthesis of what Matthew 1-2 and Luke 1-2 have to offer in his ‘Het synoptische Mariabeeld in de hedendaagse exegese. Proeve van synthese,’ 1961, 146-84. However, he does not take into account Mark 3, nor the New Testament information about the brothers of Jesus, nor that Mary calls Joseph ‘your father’ in Luke 2:48. For Ordinatio IV 30 quaestio 2, see Balic, Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 54: ‘Utrum inter beatam virginem Mariam et sanctum Ioseph fuerit verum matrimonium?’ (55-66). Balic, Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 61: ‘Respondeo. In contractu matrimonii mutua est datio corporum ad copulam carnalem non nisi sub conditione implicita, scilicet si petatur.’

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Mary was a mother, but how can she be called a mother, if there is no father? Are the meanings of ‘mother’ and ‘father’ not interrelated? We know several ancient and medieval theories of conception about the role of male and female in generating a child. In general, we can say that before the last century biological knowledge in these maters was very limited and about the old ideas we have to say that most theories only acknowledge a passive role of the woman, but how can a woman be a mother, if she is only a channel in giving birth to a child, if there is no father? Is the role of the mater not only ‘material’ (materia) and passive? Duns also discusses the view that the mother only delivers the materia (corpus) of the child.138 Here, Duns’ analysis comes in. Duns proposes that in the process of getting offspring the father and the mother are two partial causes, concurring in that process. So, the mother also enjoys an active role. 3.7

Outlook

The unity of Christian theology and philosophia christiana depends on the a priori possi­bility of the incarnation. If this possibility does not obtain, then it is impossible for the incar­nation to constitute an existential and historical factor. The possibility of what the historical Jesus of Nazareth embodies is at stake. Here, we meet radical enlightenment. Is it possible to account for the miraculous arrival and astonishing story of God in human flesh? In order to understand Jesus Christ’s ontological primacy one can turn to Duns Scotus’ christology that was developed within the historical context of the second half of the thirteenth century.139 The theology of the church as we meet theologia in an academic context of the great thinkers of the chris­tological thirteenth century is philosophy in a new key. Can it also cope with the central issues? Aquinas subscribes to the Aristotelian principle that the essential content of an accident informs an individual. Such an informative constitution makes it the case that a certain sub­stance has some accidents: for example, Socrates is white. Socrates is essentially a human being, possessing humanity, and he is accidentally white, possessing whiteness. For Aquinas, this conceptualization of Socrates is white means that two kinds of esse (being, existence) are posited in Socrates. However, there can only be one esse in God and, therefore, in the Word there can also only be one esse. Furthermore, for Aquinas, the Nestorian view implies the accidental union claim, whereas the Nestorian view must be 138 139

See Lectura III 4.10-14. The refutation is to be found in Lectura III 4.15-21. See Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, part I: ‘Models for the hypostatic union.’

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wrong. For him, dogmatic history confirms this conclusion, for according to him the twelfth-century conception of a habitus implies the accidental union claim. This habitus view must be wrong and twelfth-century dogma history confirms this conclusion, because this theory was condemned by Alexander III.140 In christology Scotus aims at rendering classic dogma more precise. The dogma regar­ding Christ’s two natures had been formulated in an intuitive and faithful way before the development of an adequate theory of natures could have taken place. There was not even a theoretical grasp of the concept of nature in the expression ‘two natures.’ One only had the expressions of ‘human nature’ and ‘divine nature,’ but these natures are quite different in kind, for the one nature is common and generic and the other one is individual. One had still to wait for the development of the notion of an individual essence, although we have a famous forerunner in the Scotian notion of haeceitas. The interaction of the divine individuality and common humanity does not constitute any inconsistency, and if there is a factual incarnation, incarnation cannot be impossible. The renewal of the theory of properties shows that the traditional dilemmas were caused by an incomplete and premature theory of properties.141 Something can be illogical, but something seeming illogical can also show that our sense of logic fails. We may feel that something is logical, but we may be completely wrong. Christian articles of faith must be false, if Aristote­lian logic and ontology in its historical sense are right. However, the faith shows that they are wrong, but it only does so in a pre-theoretical way. Reason stumbles in order to grow. The victory of a new logic developed through the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth centuries starts with the incarnation and the cross of Christ and theological reflection on these crossroads of history. In Anselm’s theology, the doctrine of atonement and redemption functions as an extensi­on of his doctrine of God. God who is the best possible person (Proslogion) also acts in a best possible way (Cur Deus homo?). In general, the theology of the Trinity offers the basic conditions of possibility to explain how God can act in the best possible way. The theory of the possibility of incarnation is entailed by Trinitarian theology. Being incarnate is the neces­sary condition for acting as well as possible in history. The road running from the New Testa­ment evidence to the theology of incarnation leads to this new way of thinking. The facts and works of Jesus Christ of Nazareth are beyond 140 141

On this misinterpretation by Thomas Aquinas, see Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, 32 (29-33) and 239-45. See Plantinga, The Nature of Necessity, chapter 4, and KN chapters 7-9.

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conceivability from a secular point of view. His life, works, words, death and subsequent ministry cannot be explained in terms of the factual antecedents of a nice Jewish boy. Of course, there were many other pious boys, but they had not been crucified. In a comparable way, the fruits of Old Testament revelation cannot be explained on the basis of the patterns of ancient Semitic culture. Nevertheless, we have the Book of the Old Testament at our disposal. The fact that these facts are ununderstandable in terms of general historical antecedents eventually led Dutch modern theology to a denial of the historical existence of Jesus. Howe­ver, this move does not offer any explanation. There is either no explanation, or there is a theological explanation. If there is more than skepticism and nihilism, then Duns Scotus offers fresh ideas. The Gospel proclaims: Everything becomes new (John 1-2). The dazzling thing is that consistent reflection on this new beginning over centuries constitutes a new world of thought in the development of philosophy elicited by the develop­ment of theology.

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Creation 4.1

Introduction

Duns Scotus’ ontology shows two faces. On the one hand, there are his a priori reflections which culminate in his transcendent logic of terms. On the other hand, his ontology is anchored in the doctrine of creation. Scotus’ fundamental analyses are intrinsically linked with reality, and reality is – theologically speaking – God’s creation (creatura). A creature is, as such, a creature of the Creator, and God Triune is the Creator. On the linguistic level, philosophical and systematic languages mainly derive from the great philosophical traditions of antiquity, but, on the conceptual level the manger of philosophical language is the doctrine of God. Moreover, where Christian thought develops as a theory of reality, new ideas have to be framed in order to express Chris­tian intuitions that are inconsistent with ancient cosmolo­gy. Necessitarianism, of course, is reality boun­d, because it is just actual reality which is necessary, but, Christian thoug­ht is also reality related, for it focuses on God’s creation and our present reality is God’s creation. It principally opts for this reality as for open reality, because it focuses on creation as contingent reality.1 Scotus’ thought is an actualism. The a priori perspective became stronger and stronger only during the final stages of a stormy, but brief process of his personal development. Christian patristic philosophy started, where it collided with Hellenistic philosophy in strong ways: in the doctrine of God, where the specific notion of God – indispensable for the Christian faith – was excluded by the metaphysics of Hellenistic philosophy, and in the doctrine of creation, where the radical notion of creation likewise indispensable for the Christian Faith was excluded by the cosmology of that same Hellenistic philosophy. Both Platonism and Aris­totelianism, both Stoa and Neoplatonism imply that the biblical notion of creation is impossible, just as it was excluded by the mythologies of the ancient Semitic religions. Of course, the Pauline notion of a creatio ex nihilo – the culmination point of New Testament creation faith – was also

1 According to ancient philosophical language, the notions of necessity, potentiality, conting­ency and possibility imply’ all actuality. See DPhil chapters 14 and 16. Cf. KN 245-78.

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excluded by ancient cosmology.2 In ancient cosmology, theogony is wedded to cosmogony.3 Moreover, when we look at the structure of Aristotle’s theology, the basic differences are clear too: The same arguments which remove any inconsistency from a plurality of unmoved movers, each a pure form, bring out the point that ‘there is a first and second among them,’ and that only the completely independent one, head of this household of strange gods and affecting the movements of all the rest, is what he is careful to refer to as the First Unmoved Mover. He (= Merlan) is justified in writing ‘One therefore in form and number is the First Unmoved Mover,’ and concluding that the world, which is the best possible, is not democratically governed, but a monarchy. ‘The rule of many is not good: one ruler let there be.’ Not monotheism nor henotheism then, but divine monarchy.4 According to the Aristotelian cosmology and ontology, neither monotheism neither henotheism can explain the reality we live in, for, according to this view, our reality is not contingent, but necessary and governed by the divine monarchy in a necessary way. However, the foundations of Duns Scotus’ doctrine of creation can only be characterized and analyzed in alternative philosophical terms, just as the foundations of his theory of trinitarian properties can be treated philosophically, but only in terms of an alternative philosophy.5 His doctrine of creation tightly connects the theme of the Creator (§ 4.2) with the theme of God Triune (§ 4.3), whereas § 4.4 explains the relation of Creator and creation. The fifth section deals with Duns’ theory of material things (§ 4.5) and the sixth section with the issue of the eternity of the world (§ 4.6). Time and space are discussed in § 4.7. § 4.8 offers some final reflections on the theme of creation, philosophy and science.

2 See Romans 4:17. Consult Schlier, Der Römerbrief, 130-3. Cf. Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy I 454-5. 3 See Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy I 140-5. 4 Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy VI: Aristotle, 275. ‘Creator’ and ‘creation’ are missing in the extensive general index of Guthrie’s Aristotle. 5 On the trinitarian character of the consistent concept of God, see chapter 2. Cf. § 4.3 and DPhil chapter 13.

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God the Creator

Lectura II begins with the question whether primary causality must be of a trinitarian nature, and this central question concurs with another question: Can God create? If creating must be permitted as a possible property, then it is possible that there is God who creates, and if it is possible that God the Creator exists, then God the Creator must exist. In Lectura II 1 and Ordinatio II 1 Duns starts with these central questions. Religions differ widely about what gods and divine agents can do. This issue can be decided in terms of divine creativity. The activity of gods does not rest on such divine creativity, if it is not divine, but is it possible that a creature can create?6 Could God have created a world which contains creatures which can create in their turn? The starting point of dealing with this issue is the thesis: (1) Matter exists. Here, the main problem for Duns Scotus is constituted by a view of William of Ware. Accor­ding to William of Ware, (2) A created agent cannot create cannot be proved apart from faith, but must be accepted on faith alone. However, Duns Scotus argues that (2) is to be derived from a series of necessary truths: (3) a material form cannot be the basis of an act of creation, (4) a created substance cannot create the form of a material substance, and (5) an immaterial substance cannot create another substance.7 According to Scotus, (3) entails that a material substance cannot create, since to do so, it would have to create in virtue of a material form; (4) entails that a created immaterial substan­ce cannot create an accident; and (5) states that a created immaterial substance cannot create another substance. And this covers all the possibilities.8 6 See Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 258-63. 7 God is not a substance, so neither an immaterial substance. 8 Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 259-60. For an elaborate discussion, see idem, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 259-63.

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So, there are no creatures and there are no creatures possible which can create other things in turn. Atheology is burdened with the task of proving that creating is an impossible property.9 However, Duns is familiar with arguments which defended the impossibility of divine creativity. If divine causality is necessary (Aristotle, Avicenna, Averroes), then there is no room to assume any creative activity, and if the perfect cause causes in a necessary way, then we have the entailment of a best possible world, for there can only be one perfect perfect cause and therefore only one possible reality, and if there is only one possible world, this world can only be the best possible world. Here, we face the central dilemma. Different styles of thought fundamentally collide with each other. There is the philosophical statement that the possibility of creating is exclu­ded by divine immutability and that the First Agent cannot act willingly.10 For Duns, it is a necessary truth that God acts by his will. So, to create is a contingent divine act.11 Duns Scotus could have simply replied that a necessitarian alternative is rebutted by a theory of contingen­cy, but simple answers do not satisfy him. Thus, after having appealed at Genesis 1:1: ‘In the beginning God created heaven and eart­h’ (Lectura II 1.59), he offers a New Testament-based definition of creating: I answer that to create is to produce something out of nothing.12 This crucial definition makes use of the terms ‘out of ’ (de) and ‘nothing’ (nihil), but both terms can be used in several ways. Duns points out that ‘out of ’ (de) is a word of ordering: it can indicate a structural order and it can indicate a temporal order.13 In terms of the structural meaning of ‘de,’ indicating structural priority, a creature is not ontologically autonomous:

9

10 11 12 13

‘Atheology,’ although rather common in French structuralism, is here used in the Plantingian sense: atheologians defend the philosophical position that they can prove that the theistic view is wrong. See Lectura II 1.54-58, and Ordinatio II 1.51-56. On the contingency of creation, see also Marchesi, ‘La dottrina della creazione,’ in Bérubé (ed.), Regnum Hominis et Regnum Dei I 467-71. Lectura II 1.60: ‘Respondeo quod creare est aliquid de nihilo producere.’ Cf. Ordinatio II 1.58 – a Parisian text where Duns also adds: effectively (in effectu). See DPhil § 2.2.1. Ordinatio II 1.58: ‘Ly ‘de’ potest notare ordinem naturae vel durationis.’ On ordo naturae, see DPhil § 6.4.2; on ‘ante’ and ‘post,’ see DPhil § 6.3 (232-6). Cf. the expression ‘ordo secundum naturam.’ See also Lectura II 1.61-72.

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A creature would not have existence in virtue of itself, if every external cause giving it existence were to have been excluded. [...] It has neither existence nor non-existence from itself.14 A creature is synchronically contingent.15 To create is the production of something by an agent such that only that agent is the necessary and sufficient condition for that production: It is possible that God directly causes and effects something. Therefore, he can create something and make it out of nothing.16 God can cause in a direct way. He can create by giving being, or existence, where nothing exists. If God cannot act contingently, then he cannot create, but it is also true, that if God cannot create, then he cannot act contingently. So, if God can act contingently, then he can create. Because Parmenideans are absent from the medieval scene, all parties accept tempo­ral change and diachronic contingency, but the crucial synchronic contingency is required by diachronic contingency and diachronic contingency is only possible in virtue of synchronic contingency.17 The second use of ‘de,’ in the sense of temporal order, underlines that God can will new things, and in virtue of his creative knowledge and his will he can do new things. Yet Duns notes that all philosophers deny creation in this sense, for it is impossible that he wills something anew, since then God would be mutable. This argument must be wrong according to Duns, because God causes everything else contingently, and, therefore, not in a necessary way: God causes all things that are externally related to him contingently and by himself and it follows from this that he does so in a non-necessary way.18 14 15 16

17 18

Ordinatio II 1.62: ‘Creatura ex sola ratione sua non haberet esse, circumscripta omni causa extrinsica dante esse. [...] Nec habet ex se esse nec non-esse.’ See DPhil 226-31 and 268-73. Cf. CF 23-33. Ordinatio II 1.66: ‘Deus potest aliquid immediate causare et efficere. Ergo, potest creare et aliquid de nihilo facere.’ See also Ordinatio II 1.67-68. Cf. also Lectura II 18.70 and II 12.6365. See DPhil § 16.8.1 and § 16.8.3. Ordinatio II 1.70: ‘Deus causat ‘omnia quae sunt ad extra’ contingenter et ex se, et ex hoc sequitur quod non necesario.’ Cf. Ordinatio II 1.73. See also Ordinatio I 8.275-7 and 281-91, and Lectura I 39.35-37, 41 and 91.

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There is the diachronic interpretation of ‘out of’ (de): the interpretation in terms of duration. There is a fluent transition from the diachronic ‘out of’ (de) – duration – to the question whether creation can be linked with something out of nothing. Then, we have also to address the relevant meaning of ‘nothing’: If we assume that God can produce something immediately, and not in a necessary way, but contingently, then it follows that he can create in such a way that non-existence temporally precedes existence.19 If both the diachronic and the synchronic uses of ‘out of’ (de) imply prior nonexistence, then we face the issue of what nothing is up to. The ex nihilo line is now seen as a systematic alternative: For this reason, I say that God simply produces something out of nothing, when he creates, and yet that something is assumed to be possible and to have being in some sense.20 Duns Scotus means by out of nothing (de nihilo): not out of anything.21 The temporal use of ‘out of’ (de) is accompanied by two different meanings of ‘nothing’ (nihil): not out of anything can be understood in an absolute sense, or in a specific sense.22 Scotus rejects the view that the requisite qualification only relates to existential being (esse exsistentiae), and not to essential being (esse essentiae). The view that the proposition God can create means that he can effect the existential being of something on the basis of its essential being is rejected, since the distinction between existential being (esse exsistentiae) and essential being (esse essentiae) is a formal distinction so that one cannot

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22

Lectura II 1.74: ‘Hoc igitur supposito – quod Deus potest immediate aliquid producere, et non necessario sed contingenter – sequitur quod potest creare, ita quod non-esse duratione praecedat esse.’ See also Lectura I 2.88 and I 8.280-285 which run parallel to Lectura I 39.35-37. Lectura II 1.81 (cf. Ordinatio II 1.82-84): ‘Ideo dico quod in creando Deus producit aliquid de nihilo simpliciter, et tamen praesupponitur esse possibile et habere esse secundum quid.’ Ordinatio II 1.82: ‘De nihilo – id est non de aliquo.’ See Copleston, A History of Medieval Philo­sophy, 78, cf. 69. This view dates back to Anselm. On Anselm on nothing, see Henry, The Logic of Saint Anselm, 207-19. See Ordinatio II 1.76: ‘Nihilo: quod scilicet potest accipi pro nihilo omni modo, vel pro nihilo secundum esse exsistentiae, aliquo tamen modo secundum esse essentiae.’

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have only one of these components separately (Ordina­tio II 1.82).23 It is impossible too that something is created out of the blue, simply out of nothing,24 for something that is created enjoys as such known being and willed being, and what is known is as such formally possible. What is created, has being in a specific sense: It is evident that God is an agent who acts by his intellect and by his will. Therefore, something that is produced by him is assumed to have known being and willed being: that is, being in a specific sense.25 The production into known being presupposes that what can be known is possible.26 What enjoys eternally known being is contingent, but its internal possibility abstracts from intended actuality, but it is still the internal possibility of what is to be created. This aspect of possibili­ty does not boil down to logical possibility, and is neither pure possibility in terms of possible worlds.27 Creation themes can be discussed on the level of possible acts of God: acts of kno­wing, willing and creating. If God gives existence, then he wills to do so, and if God does not give existence, then he does not will it. It should be recalled that these equivalences are not voluntarist platitudes or parodies, but necessary truths. The opposite view is stated in Lectura II 1.56: A complete and determinate cause has its effect simultaneously, for it is necessary that still more has to be decided, if it were to be a complete cause. This view stresses that if God does not create always and necessarily, he would be mutable, for causality is as such a necessary feature. There cannot be a diachronic relation between God’s willing and causal acting, for God cannot be mutable. So, there is no synchronic willing either, and, for this reason, no willing at all. However, according to Duns Scotus, the immutability argument is 23 24

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26 27

See DPhil § 7.5 (273-9). See Ordinatio II 1.83: ‘Et tamen non potest aliquid creari, id est produci ad esse simpliciter de nihilo, id est, nullo modo ente – nec simpliciter, nec secundum quid.’ God does not work from scratch. Lectura II 1.82: ‘Quod autem praesupponitur creationi ‘productum habere esse secundum quid,’ manifestum est, quia Deus est agens per intellectum et voluntatem. Ergo, illud quod producitur ab eo, praesuppo­nitur habere esse cognitum et volitum, quod est esse secundum quid.’ See DPhil 292-2 and 489-505. Cf. CF 182-3 and 188-9. See § 4.8: ‘Creation, philosophy and science.’

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wrong, for contingent effects do not change the agent. An agent wills different things, but does not become another agent by doing so.28 God can also produce different things by one act of willing which exists always – without changing himself.29 When God creates, he does more than before creation. Such a decision to create has its own value and fundamentals are not demonstrated. Duns is not only eager to exploit contingency optimally, but also to point out why a proposition or a state of affairs is contingent. What a contingent proposition is, we find stated in Lectura II 1.89: Since a proposition is contingent, the middle between the terms cannot be there in a necessary way, for something contingent never follows from what is necessary. So, if there are contingent propositions, there are also self-evidently contingent propositions. Duns himself refers to the first book of the Lectura.30 If God does will or does not will produ­cing ad extra, then his divine will is the only ground, for what is impossible cannot be willed as far as God is concerned. Contradictions are grounded on identities: The only ground why white is incompatible with black is that white is white and that black is black. Hence, in everything that is formally inconsistent, there is no other formal ground of inconsistency than the essentials of what is inconsistent.31 Ontology is dependent on the doctrine of creation. It treats the transcendental conditions of God’s possibilities of action. Duns Scotus ontologically elucidates what to be created amounts to. The famous distinction between existential being (esse exsistentiae) and essential being (esse essentiae) is only related to created entities, although it is certainly mirrored at the level of willed being, for 28

29

30 31

See Lectura II 1.86: ‘Causa aeque determinata ex parte sui, habens actum primum, potest agere et non agere, sine mutatione sui – per solam approximationem passi.’ Cf. Lectura II 1.56. See Lectura II 1.86: ‘Deus etiam, per voluntatem suam semper unam existentem, potest diversa producere secundum se tota, sine sui mutatione.’ On God’s one act of will, see Lectura I 39.54 and CF 126-9. See Lectura I 8.279 and I 39.40, cf. Lectura Prologus 115-118. Lectura II 1.89: ‘Non est alia causa quare album repugnat nigro, nisi quia album est album, et nigrum est nigrum. Unde in omnibus formaliter repugnantibus non est alia causa formalis repugnantiae quam rationes repugnantium.’

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both its existence and essence are willed. God eternally wills to create them at the time of creation, but how are the creatable things known to God? When we focus on God’s knowledge – God’s knowledge being omniscience –, we have to start with the nature of God’s self-knowledge. Since it is God who matters most, it is his self-knowledge which matters most. The divine intellect knows its divine essence and the divine intellect knows its divine essence at the first structural moment,32 ‘for the first divine act of knowing is related to its divine essence itself as far as it is its essence.’33 Divine knowledge understands itself and it sees through the nature of God’s own knowledge. Here, ‘essentia’ refers to the essence and nature of what the divine intellect is up to. Even here we find no blurring of boundaries. Everywhere Duns Scotus respects the relation between a personal act and its object. He is far away from traditional identity thinking.34 God’s first act of knowing does not presuppose something else. He knows against an ontological background of open possibilities.35 There is not anything God knows before he knows himself.36 If an epistemic relation is produced, then there is the known object. In terms of necessitarianism, things are quite different. Then, necessary reality is what matters first, and personal relations are secondary. There is no contingency and there cannot be a will. If reality is contingent, will is significant, and the best possible will is most significant. Here, we meet the same pattern as we have met in the epistemology of divine knowledge: First, the will of God wills its own essence.37 The divine will is the best thing to be willed and it enjoys its own nature and its own good­ness. First things first. The rule of First things first is the rule of Best things first, and these rules are simply the cornerstone of Scotian thinking. The

32

33 34 35

36 37

See Lectura I 35.21: ‘Intellectus divinus primo intelligit essentiam suam, et secundo non intelligit essentiam suam per comparationem ad lapidem, sed lapidem per comparationem ad essentiam suam. Non igitur est necessaria aliqua relatio ad creaturam in esse intelligibili ad hoc quod creatura intelligatur a Deo.’ Lectura I 35.19: ‘Primus actus intelligendi divinus est ipsius essentiae divinae in quantum essentia est.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 35.28. See DS 158-60, and especially notes 16 and 17. On the Scotian notion of possibles, see Honnefelder, ‘Possibilien. 1. Mittelalter,’ Historisches Wörterbuch der Philosophie VII 1130-32 (1126-35). Cf. Arndt, ‘Possibilien. 2. 17. und 18. Jh.,’ Historisches Wörterbuch der Philosophie VII 1135-39. See Lectura I 35.20, cf. Ordinatio I 35.30. See Lectura I 35.21: ‘Primo [voluntas divina] vult essentiam suam.’

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theoretical style is lucid and the existential content is concerned with goodness. Therefore: Second, the will of God wills a stone because of his own essence and his own goodness.38 God’s will elicits good things because of its own goodness and the interaction of both God’s intellect and his will constitutes contingent possible reality: First, the will wills the end, and out of love for the end it wills that which is related to the end: hence, the divine will wills stone because of itself, and does not will itself by a comparative relation to stone. Hnce, it does not will the end by a comparative relation to that which is related to the end, but, first, the will wills its essence, and, second, the will wills stone because of its own nature and its own goodness.39 The epistemic differences between divine knowledge and human knowledge are clear. Our knowledge knows reality and depends as such on reality. Our knowledge does not constitute all of what is to be known. Reality is the measure of our knowledge, but divine knowledge is not like this. The crucial epistemic rule of our way of knowing is a knows that p → p, for the truth of p is the necessary condition of a knowing that p. The decisive epistemic rule of God’s way of knowing is p → God knows that p, for God’s knowledge is the necessary condition of reality. Divine knowledge is constitutive knowledge: Therefore, divine knowledge is the end term of the relation of what is knowable to divine knowlegde which plays an independent, and not a 38 39

See Lectura I 35.21: ‘Secundo vult lapidem propter essentiam suam et bonitatem suam.’ Lectura I 35.21: ‘Voluntas primo vult finem, et ex amore finis vult illud quod est ad finem: unde voluntas divina vult lapidem propter se, et non vult se per comparationem ad lapidem. Unde non vult finem per comparationem ad illud quod est ad finem, sed primo vult essentiam suam, et secundo vult lapidem propter essentiam suam et bonitatem suam.’

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relative role, since divine knowledge is the measure in relation to other knowable things and their objects.40 God knows everything. So, he knows what a ladybird is and what stones are, but, for God, there is no need or room for independent reality to be known by God. ‘There is no relation between God and stone required so that God knows stone’ (ibidem). This act of knowledge is a relation and this relation is neither a rational, nor a real relation. The distinction between the knower and the epistemic object is sufficient for the divine act of knowing. The structural moments of divine knowledge can now be listed and explained as fol­lows:41 At the first structural moment, the divine intellect knows the divine essence.42 God’s first act of knowing does not require a relation to other objects. The relation is not a necessary relation to a creature/creation in the esse intelligibile so that God knows the creatu­re. The relation of God to a creature is not a necessary condition for God to know that creatu­re. At the second structural moment, the divine intellect knows a creature in knowable being, not by a combining act, but stone by a direct act, which is followed by the relati­on to the divine intellect.43 Knowing stone is nothing else than that the proposition stone has been produced into knowa­ble being (esse intelligibile) is related to divine knowledge as something independent. To put it briefly, the second structural moment expresses the moment of the contingent constitution of knowable being. Here, we see a profound parallel between Scotus’ theology of creation and his ontology. The key position is God’s. His activity is not only marvellous creativity, but his mind is also creative. His mind constitutes the reality to be created, willed by his will, just as his will causes creation. 40

41 42 43

Lectura I 35.18: ‘Cum igitur scientia Dei mensura in comparatione ad alia scibilia et obiecta sua, scientia terminabit relationem intelligibilium ad divinam scientiam sub ratione absoluta suae scientiae, et non sub ratione aliqua relativa.’ See Lectura I 35.20-22, 33 and 36. Cf. Ordinatio I 35.29-32, 45 and 49. Lectura I 35.22: ‘Intellectus divinus primo intelligit essentiam.’ Lectura I 35.22: ‘In secundo instanti [intellectus divinus] intelligit creaturam in esse intelligibili, non actu comparativo, sed lapidem actu directo, quem consequitur relatio ad intellectum divinum.’

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According to the third sign or at the third structural moment, the divine intellect compa­ratively relates its own nature to stone in knowable being (esse intelligibile). This act causes a certain ideal relation.44 The third structural moment is an act of knowledge – knowing a creature, for instance, stone. Here, the key is the comparatio, actus comparandi which implies the epistemic object and its epistemic act. At the fourth structural moment, the divine intellect reflects on that comparative relation and that act of comparing, and in this way an idea is known so that the idea, as it is a certain being, follows creaturely knowedge according to the third sign, and, the know­ledge and understanding of that idea and that relation follows at another structural moment (namely, at the fourth one).45 The fourth structural moment shows an object considered to be an idea.46 Knowing this idea is the content of the fourth structural moment which constitutes an ideal relation. Duns Scotus models the ontology of divine knowledge on the doctrine of creation. The Christian notion of creation embodies the perfect priority of God himself. His creation is a free, generous, sovereign and contingent initiative. The role of the second structural moment expresses the contingent constitution of the known being which relates to what is created.47 Stage three formulates the act of connecting a knowable object with knowing itself. Stage four points out the established relation of the knowledge of something. The upshot of stage four is the knowledge of a specific idea. This knowledge is an epistemic relation and Duns Scotus calls this relation an ideal relation (relatio idealis). What an idea consists in comes into focus at the fourth structural moment. In Duns Scotus’ doctrine of creation and related themes we meet a host of terms: esse intelligibile, esse cognitum, esse verum, esse essentiae, esse existentiae, and esse reale. This list can be simplified, for the terms ‘esse intelligibile,’ 44

45

46 47

Lectura I 35.22: ‘In tertio autem signo vel in tertio instanti naturae, intellectus divinus comparat essentiam suam ad lapidem in esse intelligibili, ex qua causatur relatio quaedam idealis.’ Lecturas I 35.22: ‘In quarto autem instanti reflectitur supra illam comparationem et supra actum comparandi, et sic cognoscitur idea, ita quod idea, ut ens quoddam est, sequitur intellectionem creaturae in tertio signo, et in alio instanti (scilicet, in quarto) sequitur cognitio et intellectio istius ideae et illius relationis.’ See Lectura I 35.33, cf. Ordinatio I 35.45. Compare the actualism of Alvin Plantinga and Robert Adams.

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‘esse cognitum,’ and ‘esse verum’ not only belong together, but, within the context of the theory of divine knowledge, we can conclude that they have the same conceptual content. Moreover, for Duns the terms ‘esse essentiae’ and ‘esse existentiae’ belong tightly together: what enjoys esse essentiae also enjoys esse existentiae. They refer to the same reality as the term ‘esse reale’ does. This also means, that, for Duns, esse intelligibile and esse essentiae do not coincide, whereas they have the same meaning for Henry of Ghen­t.48 If something has been produced, it has esse cognitum and esse volitum, and known being and willed being require that there is a unique agent, endowed with knowledge and will. This agent is God and, as far as he is concerned, creation is possible. The next question to be raised is more specific: Is divine creativity also trinitarian activity? 4.3

Trinitarian Creativity

After having established that it is possible to create (Lectura II 1 quaestio 2), we now turn to Duns posing the question whether trinitarian activity is a necessary condition of creating (Lectura II 1 quaestio 1). The answer is again given in a monographic style (Lectura II 1.22-46 // Ordinatio II 1.15-44) and is in the same vein as Scotus’ trinitarian thinkin­g in Lectura II 1.23: If any agent whatsoever has a necessary principle of producing something and a principle of producing contingently, then he works first by the necessary principle, and then by the contingent principle. But whatever is in God as a principle of working ad extra, is a principle which works contingently (just as is evident from Book I). A principle of producing something ad intra is a necessary principle. Therefo­re, something is produced ad intra by a necessary principle before an ad extra productive prin­ciple. Therefore, Persons are produced before the principle ad extra could produce. However, what is not incompatible with the Persons brought forth is communicated to them. Therefore, the possibility that they work ad extra under the aspect of possibility is communicated to them. Therefore, at that moment at which there are causality and the

48

Lectura I 36.21: ‘Igitur esse rei productum in esse intelligibile: quod ipsi vocant esse essentiae – tantum erit esse secundum rationem.’

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principle of producing ad extra in God himself, that causality and principle are in the three subjects.49 When we focus on divine agency, we are aware that God exis­ts necessarily: God is necessari­ly, and he acts contingently. ‘To act presupposes to be’ (Ordinatio II 1.19). So, we have principles on both levels: principles of producing necessarily, and principles of producing contingently: Since there is a principle for two productions, namely a principle of a necessary producti­on and one of a contingent production, the principle of the necessary production neces­sarily enjoys priority to the principle of the contingent production (Ordinatio II 1.17). God acts in virtue of what he is essentially, and since God is essentially and necessarily trinitarian, he acts as such in a trinitarian way. God acts contingently by his causality and the principle of producing ad extra. So, ‘that causality and that principle are in the three subjects’ (Lectura II 1.23). The personal structure of God being God is trinitarian. This truth is a necessary one. It is impossible that God is one-dimensional. Reality cannot be necessary, and God cannot be unitarian, for if his nature and character are unitarian, then there is only one procession, for then his nature and being a Person coincide. So, in that case his activity could only be necessary and the world flowing from his dyna­mics would be necessary. For these reasons, God’s causality is necessarily trinitarian. Duns Scotus enfolds his doctrine of God being Triune in terms of his knowledge and his will. God’s knowledge is primarily self-knowledge and, secondly, knowledge of his creation and its history: At the first structural moment, the intellect of the Father suffices to produce the Word, since his consciousness is infinite, having an infinite 49

Lectura II 1.23: ‘In quocumque est principium necessarium producendi aliquid et principium contingenter producendi, prius operatur principio necessario quam contingenti; sed quidquid est in Deo ut principium operandi ad extra, est principium contingenter operans (sicut patet ex I libro). Principium autem producendi aliquid ad intra est principium necessarium. Ergo, prius producitur aliquid principio necessario ad intra quam principio productivo ad extra. Ergo, personae prius producuntur, antequam principium ad extra possit producere. Sed personis productis communicatur quidquid eis non repugnat; igitur potentia operativa ad extra sub respectu potentiae communicatur. Igitur, in illo instanti in quo in divinis est causalitas et principium producendi ad extra, causalitas illa et principium est in tribus suppositis.’ Cf. Ordinatio II 1.17.

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object present to it. Therefore, it suffices to produce infinite adequate knowledge, before it is related to a second object.50 As far as God’s nature and character are concerned, the structure of God’s personality is a necessary identity. God the Father and God the Son necessarily bring forth God the Holy Spirit: The same argument applies at the will: just as the divine intellect can know the essence before it knows creation, in the same way the divine intellect can represent it to the will – the divine essence by which the will in virtue of this representation spirates infinite love, adequate to the divine essence.51 The procession of God infinitely loving coheres well with the procession of God kno­wing infinitely all contingent truth. The divine processions are by knowing and willing. The conclusion is clear: They (namely, the Word and infinite Love) are there before the divine intellect has an ad extra relation. Therefore, they are produced before every other produced object. When there is only causality in order to produce a creature when it is possible, and when he can only produce a creature by the ad intra produced Persons – as we have proven –,52 it follows that the causality to produce ad extra presupposes that causality in the three Persons.53

50

51

52 53

Lectura II 1.24: ‘Intellectus Patris in primo instanti est sufficiens ad producendum Verbum, quia est memoria infinita, habens obiec­tum infinitum sibi praesens. Igitur sufficit ad producendum notitiam infinitam adaequatam, antequam comparetur ad obiectum secundarium.’ Cf. Ordinatio II 1.18. More arguments are found in Ordinatio II 1.23-40, which parallel to Lectura II 1.29-40. Lectura II 1.24: ‘Sic etiam arguitur de voluntate, quod sicut intellectus divinus prius potest intelligere essentiam suam quam creaturam, ita prius potest eam (namely, the essentia) repraesentare voluntati, qua repraesentata voluntas spirat Amorem infinitum adaequatum essentiae divinae.’ Cf. Ordinatio II 1.18. A fine kind of progress of representation is to be discerned in Ordinatio II 1.18: ‘Likewise, the divine will which knows that essence actually as a present object, is not only an operative faculty, but [...] it is also a faculty which produces adequate infinite love, and, consequently, an inspired Person in the divine nature.’ See Lectura II 1.23, cf Ordinatio II 1.17. Lectura II 1.24.

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This line of argumentation runs parellel to Augustine’s thought in De Trinitate V 14.15: ‘The whole Trinity is one principle with respect to creation, just as the Father and the Son are one principle with respect to the Holy Spirit.’54 The immense difference between Augustine’s theological and philosophical universe and Scotus’ philosophia christiana is that we now have articulated theories running over the whole of the theological and philosophical field which back up the fundamental Augustinian insights. Trinitarian activity is based on the trinitarian nature of God. Therefore, trinitarian causality cannot be divided between the three divine persons. The three divine Persons are constitutive of divine activity. Seen from the opposite angle, reality is contingent. So, God’s creative activity and works in his reality must be con­tingent too, but if he can only act necessarily, his activity cannot be contingent. Therefore, God is necessarily Triune, if he has to act and to work contingently, for if there is only one Person, God could only act necessarily. It is simply impossible that only one Person enjoys the whole of this creative causality. In that case, the trinitarian nature would collapse – a collapse by which the realities of divine nature and divine Person would coincide. The upshot would be a necessitarian concept of God and a necessitarian picture of the world. The opposite conclusion to be drawn is a hard fact, filled with trust and comfort: contingency cannot be excluded from reality, and will cannot be excluded from God’s nature.55 There have to be more Persons and there have to more processions in God. The realm of God’s infinite omniscience, as far as it is not bound to actual reality, is presupposed in his knowledge of creation. To create requires God’s knowledge, his will and his activity. Every truth that is essentially true is presupposed by contingent truth. Necessary truth cannot be based on contingent truth. Trinitarian structures are not added to contingent creation, for contingent creation requires the structures of reality and of God’s own possibilities of action. The dimension of necessity is entailed by the dimension of contingency, and not the other way around. However, trinitarian activity is presupposed in creating, because otherwise creating is impossible. Thomas Aquinas also connects tightly trinitarian activity and creation.

54 55

See Lectura II 1.28. See Lectura II 1.29-40, especially II 1.37-38.

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The eternal processions of the Perons are the cause (causa) and the ground (ratio) of the production of creatures.56 The concepts cause and ground precisely express the trinitarian foundation of creation. ‘Saint Thomas explains that the procession of the person is the origin (origo) of the procession of creatures, or the principle (principium) of creatues; the procession of creatures has as its exemplar (exemplatur, exemplata) the procession of the divine persons.’57 The going-out of the Perons in essential unity is the cause of the goingout of the creatures in essential diversity.58 On face value, Aquinas and Scotus share a parallel trinitarian outlook in their theologies of creation. Nevertheless, they offer quite different theories. The parallelism of the eternal processions in God which are necessary acts, imply the necessity of the act of creation, whereas the crucial foundation of Duns Scotus’ theology of creation is, that to create is contingent, and this contingent activity presupposes that God is God Triune. 4.4

Creation as Relation

‘Creation’ and ‘creature’ are terms of qualification. They have both a descriptive content and they have the character of a gerundive. Being a creature entails that there is a Creator. It is clear that Duns looks upon the world as creation, as God’s creation, but he is not epistemi­cally naive. Duns Scotus does not conclude that there is a Creator, simply on the bais that the world is to be considered as creation. We discern this, when we see how he deals with the nature of the creation relation.

56 57 58

Aquinas, Scriptum I 14.1 articulus 1: ‘Processiones personarum aerternae sunt causa et ratio productionis creaturarum.’ Gilles Emery, ‘Trinity and Creation,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 59 (58-76). Aquinas, Scriptum I 2, divisio textus: ‘Exitus pesonarum in unitate essentiae exitus creaturarum in essentiae diversitate.’ See Gilles Emery, ‘Trinity and Creation,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 61-2, cf. David B. Burrell, ‘Analogy, Creation, and Theological Language,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), op. cit., 77-98.

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The creation relation is twofold. We have to pay attention to the relation of a creature, or creation, to God,59 and, vice versa, to God’s relation to his creation. Thus, the first question to be raised is whether the relation of creation to God is something really different from the foundation of that relation. Duns’ answer runs as follows: The relation of creation to God is nothing else than the foundation of that relation, for it is based on something essential to creation. Nevertheless, relation and essence are not formally identical, and the foundation of that relation is neither exclusively (praecise) that relation (Lectura II 1.238). The relation between a creature and God seen as a relation which a creature has, related as it is to God, is common to every creature. Here, Duns Scotus’ wording runs as follows: this relation of a creature to God is really identical, since that relation follows from the nature of the foundation of that relation.60 Scotus’ theology of creation can easily be misunderstood by modern ears. We have to be aware that, in terms of this philosophical language, the term ‘reality’ (realitas) includes essentiality. Here, a relation is involved, and if it said that a relation is real, this means that the involved relation is essential to the entity which enjoys that relation. The terms real relation and real identity are tightly connected. If, within this framework, one asserts that a relation is not real, then it is probable that modern ears hear something quite different from the original meaning of such a statement. When Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus clearly affirm that the relation of a creature to God is not real, then they do not assert that this relation is not real according to the modern meaning of ‘real.’ On the contrary, according to the modern meaning, the relation of a creature to God is definitely real. This assessment has to be explained a bit more. Being a creature and to be created are essential for every contingent entity which is essentially dependent on God, whereas it exists contingently. The common and general property to be created (relatio creaturae) is as such essential. It is also said to be really identical, since it is as such linked up with that res.61 The relation of a stone to God is a property of the stone so that being a stone and having no relation to God are incompossible. A stone and the relation to God cannot be incompatible, and, thus, it is an intrinsic combination which matters. They are really connected. The philosophical language of the thirteenth century tightens this statement up to identity language: a creature and 59 60 61

See Lectura II 1.163-262 (quaestio 5): ‘Utrum relatio creaturae ad Deum sit aliud a fundamento.’ On Duns Scotus’ theory of relation, see DPhil 244-53 and 279-82. The real(ity) and really identical language mainly rests on the original meaning of res. ‘Res’ is not simply a synonym of ‘thing,’ but derived from reor, cf. ratus = valid. Res points at a piece of reality (a thing) seen under the aspect of its nature. On res, see DPhil 256-7.

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its relation to God are really identical. Creation and the creation relation are really identical, for that relation is essential for creation, but they are not identical in terms of the modern meanings of ‘identical’ and ‘identity.’62 When does John Duns use non-identity language? The history of incarnation is based on the assumption of the human nature by the Word of God, ‘and the Word became flesh’ (John 1:14). The assumption of the human nature by the Word is contingent. ‘The Word can exist without that relation.’63 If the Word can exist without that relation, then that relation is not based on the nature of the Word. If something can exist without something else, then that relation is not based on the nature of the involved relatum. Therefore, that nature is not the foundation of that relation, and, Duns says, ‘that relation is not identical with its foundation.’64 In Lectura II 1.240 Duns can say: Not every relation is identical with the foundation since it is possible without that relation.65 Here, Duns starts at the other extreme of the spectrum. It is possible that the nature of a itself entails aRb, but it is not true that all relations follow this pattern. Relations can also be accidental – in the modern sense of accidental. Then a and its foundation can be without that relation. The existence of a and not having Rb contradict a and having Rb, but this does not constitute a necessary self-contradiction. Likewise, creation and the creation relation are not identical, and, in fact, this is consonant with Duns Scotus’ famous not formally identical language. A creature enjoys the relational property having the creation relation to God. This property follows from what it is to be something: Everything that formally belongs to something – it is impossible that it exists without that component –, is really identical with it. However, the 62

63

64 65

See Lectura II 1.239-254, including a substantial excursus on the theory of relation in Lectura II 1.247-249. On this excursus, see Vos, ‘On the philosophy of the young Duns,’ in Bos (ed.), Mediaeval Semantics and Metaphysics, 210-11. The whole argument is finished up in Lectura II 1.255: ‘Sic ergo ostensum est primum, quod relatio creaturae ad Deum non differt realiter a creatura.’ Cf. Lectura II 1.238-256. On Duns’ theory of relations, see DPhil § 4.11, and on his theory of identity DPhil § 6.6.1: Identity. Lectura II 1.239: ‘Propter relationem naturae assumptae a Verbo ad Verbum, quae relatio non est idem cum fundamento, quia potest esse sine illa relatione.’ Cf. Lectura II 1.240: ‘Non omnis relatio est eadem cum fundamento, quia potest esse sine illa et ibi contradictionem includit.’ Lectura II 1.239: ‘Quae relatio non est idem cum fundamento.’ Lectura II 1.240: ‘Non omnis relatio est eadem cum fundamento, quia potest esse sine illa.’

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relation of a stone to God is present in the stone and without that relation it is impossible that the stone exists, as is evident. Therefore, the relation of the stone to God is really identical with the stone.66 The identity language has several sources originating in different backgrounds, but Duns himself gives a clear indication what he means by this language: Just as a contradiction said of some things is the way of concluding a distinction, in the same way is the impossibility of receiving the predication of contradic­tories in a being, is the way of concluding existential identity.67 If things can differ, we can deny what is the case without asserting a necessary contradiction, since they can be distinguished. They are not the same. They do not follow from each other. If they do not, they follow from each other and they are the same and this feature is anchored in their identity. Duns’ medieval terminology is rooted in this language: The impossibility that a is without b, obtains in virtue of the identity of b and a, in virtue of priority, or in virtue of simultaneity.68 Several formulations link up with each other: (a1) creation (creature) and the creation relation do not differ really; (a2) creation (creature) and the creation relation are really identical, and (b) creation (creature) and the creation relation are not formally identical. (a1) and (a2) are synonymous formulations. (a) says that something that can be characte­rized as a creature has the creation relation as an essential property. The denial of (a) is not enough theologically, but the denial of (b) is too much logically. The denial of (b) leads to the kind of identity thinking which cannot 66

67

68

Lectura II 1.241: ‘Omne quod inest formaliter alicui, sine quo incompossibile est ipsum esse, est idem realiter illi. Sed relatio lapidis ad Deum est in lapide, sine qua incompossibilis est lapidem esse, ut manifes­tum est. Ergo, relatio lapidis ad Deum est eadem realiter lapidi.’ Ordinatio II 1.262: ‘Sicut contradictio dicta de aliquibus est via concludendi distinctionem, ita impossibilitas recipiendi praedicationem contradictoriorum pertinentium ad esse est via concludendi identitatem in esse.’ Ordinatio II 1.262: ‘Impossibilitas quod a sit sine b, aut est propter identitatem b ad a aut propter prioritatem, aut simultatem.’

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give room to any kind of relations. Aristotelian logic accepts only monadic properties, but such logical deficiencies are not helpful in theology. Duns Scotus is adamant to develop a true alternative. For Scotus, and the whole of Christian thought in the thirteenth century, the essential link between the world and God, its creator, is crucial. At the same time, the story of the relation between God and creation is a different one: Although they (the creation relation and its foundation) do not differ really, yet they are not formally identical, since something absolute is never formally relational, but, as has been said above throughout Book I,69 the divine esence and its relation are really identical, and yet this is not formally that – for instance, kind and difference are really identical in a simple thing, and yet they are not formally identical.70 Therefore, the foundation of the relation to God is a relation to God in virtue of identity, but not for­mally. This is only something else, if they are one in virtue of identity, and in virtue of a formal predication.71 4.5

Material Things

A long time before Van Ruler, the medieval theories of substance and matter had already moved with the times. Even by now, matter is not a child dear to modern theology, but in the mid-twentieth century Van Ruler stressed that both God and matter have a property in com­mon: the property of impeccability.72 A long time before Duns Scotus, the pure potentiality theory of matter was already a minority opinion in the West. We continue with Duns Scotus’ theory of material things. Scotus not only abadoned matter as the principle of individuation, but he also elaborated on a

69 70 71

72

See Lectura I 2.258-275, I 5.110, I 8.176 and I 33-34.3-4. See Lectura I 8.102-103. Lectura II 1.256: ‘Licet non differant realiter, non tamen sunt idem formaliter, quia numquam absolutum formaliter est relativum, sed, sicut supra dictum est in I diffuse, essentia divina et relatio sunt idem realiter, et tamen hoc non est illud formaliter, – et genus et differentia in re simplici sunt idem realiter, et tamen non sunt idem formaliter. Ergo, fundamentum relationis ad Deum per identitatem est respectus ad Deum, non tamen formaliter. Et hoc non est aliud nisi quod aliqua sunt unum per identitatem, et non per formalem praedica­tionem.’ This thesis symbolizes a late rehabilitation of matter. For a rare theology of matter, see Van Ruler, Theologisch Werk V 9-31.

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more complex theory of matter and individuality.73 Matter is neither dirty, nor akward. It exists positively, in its own right, and is not the non-being aspect of reality. The theories of individuality and matter are closely related – both in the philosophies of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, and of Duns Scotus, but, according to Scotus, matter is not the principle of individuation. There is no need of a principle of individuation at all, since indivi­duality is an essential property of everything there is. ‘Individual’ is a transcendent term. According to Duns Scotus’ ontology, an individual enjoys its own ontological status. The history of the theory of individuality shows revolutionary changes. In Christian thoug­ht, an individual does not embody the negative aspect of reality any longer, but became something fundamental. In comparison with ancient Greek philosophy, including Aristotle,74 the ontolo­gical tables have been turned: the universals are no longer the bearers of being, for the indivi­dual is the bearer of reality and a universal is now a real aspect of individual reality – it is seen as a general property.75 We now turn to consider some aspects of material things.76 A material thing (substance) is an individual in virtue of something positive which qualifies its nature in order to be this individual thing.77 Duns calls the individuality of this essence singularitas and he also uses the term ‘haec’ (namely, haec natura).78 What is that positive factor? What matters is the individual difference. Individuals are different. Individuals belong to a certain kind, but they also differ from each other. One book differs from another book,79 one flower differs from another flower of the same kind. Individuals differ from each other on the essential level, not only in terms of their accidental properties, although they belong to the same specific kind, and do not show sortal differences. 73 74 75 76 77

78

79

See DPhil chapters 10 and 11. See Belic, ‘Aristotelis doctrina de individuo et Ioannes Duns Scotus,’ Studia Scotistica I 245-56. Cf. Guthrie, Aristotle, 100-5 and 226-32. Duns Scotus’ logic does not follow the Aristotelian SP-structure, but the Fregean Fa-structure. See McCord Adams, William Ockham. Cf. Wolter, ‘Scotus’ Individuation Theory,’ in McCord Adams (ed.), The Philosophical Theology of Scotus, 68-97. See Lectura II 3.139 (quaestio 6): ‘Utrum substantia materialis sit individua per entitatem positivam determinantem naturam adessendum hanc substantiam individualem.’ Compare Lectura II 3.164-177. Lectura II 3.164: ‘Respondeo ergo ad quaestionem, quod substantia materialis per aliquid positi­vum determinatur ad hanc singularitatem, et ad diversas singularitates secundum diversa positiva.’ In Reportatio Parisiensis II 12, hecitas is found, derived from hec (= haec). In fact, this example is an implicit extension of the medieval theory; the medieval theory of kinds is mainly related to natural kinds.

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Individuals which show up specific differences, belong to kinds which, on their turn, belong to kinds which do not show the same generic differences. At the other end of the spectrum, there is a level where no specific differences are discernable. This is the individual difference. The comparison with the help of the kind-species structure itself leads to the individual, for there we finish our journey, if we again and again ask for what is more specific. There is no reality beyond what is most specific.80 If it is stated that the nature to which specific differences are attached, were to correspond to its proper unity (even more rather it wopuld correspnd to its mximal unity), then its own existence corresponds with its maximal unity, which is its singularity [individuality]. It corresponfs to ita proper entity, just as its existence corresponds with the generic unity and its existence with the specific unity, for there is no reason to reject this regarding the maximal unity and to grant it for the minor unity. If it is stated that the own unity of a nature corresponds with that nature from which the specific difference is taken, then its own existence corresponds with its maximal unity, which is its singularity (individuality), in a much stronger sense, just as its existence corresponds with the generic unity and its existence with the specific unity, for there is no reason to deny of the maximal unity what is granted to minor unity.81 This maximal unity is Anselm’s being Anselm, Francis’ being Francis or Duns Scotus’ being John Duns. When we consider the terms involved in this theory, we are aware that there is not only the need to consider more and less specific kinds, but that this ontological talk has also its edges: on the one hand, the most general terms and, on the other hand, the least general terms. Both groups of terms do not matter much in ancient logic and philosophy. Here, the originality of medieval thought shines out – both in the theory of transcendent terms and in the theory of individual terms. Likewise, there is an ontological ladder which runs from the transcendent properties of everything there is to the thing that has nothing peculiar in common with other entities – through the generic and specific kinds. In the first case, there are as many individuals as possible which have these properties in 80 81

See Lectura II 3.169. Lectura II 3.170: ‘Si ponatur quod naturae, a qua accipitur differentia specifica, correspondeat sua unitas propria, multo fortius unitati maximae, quae est singularitas, correspondet sua propri­a entitas, sicut unitati generis sua entitas et unitati specificae sua entitas; nulla enim ratio est negare hoc de maxima unitate, et concede­re de minore unitate.’

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common, and in the last case there are no other individuals any more to have the property under consideration in common. We run from as many as possible to as few as possible. Therefore, one is the number which essentially belongs to individuality (singularitas).82 Socrates and Plato differ. Therefore, we have to get some factor by which they differ, in view of which their difference ultimately exists. However, the nature, present in this and in that person, cannot primarily explain their difference, but only their agreement. [...] Therefore, there must be something else by which they differ.83 A material thing is something. Even a material thing is something, and not nothing. It is substantial. A material thing is this thing in its own individuality in its own essen­tial dimensions.84 This point of view excludes alternative theories which are not based on the individual thing itself. Individuality is not to be sought for in its factual existence (Lectura II 3.54-60), neither in its quantitative aspects (Lectura II 3.61-124), nor in its materiality (Lectu­ra II 3.125-138): This factor (namely, by which individuals differ) is not quantity, neither existence, nor negation, as has been shown in the precedent ques­tions.85 Duns gives the final chord of his own approach at the end of quaestio 6, whereas quaestio 1 starts by posing the problem and quaestiones 2-6 present alternative theories. The upshot is: individuality is a good and positive business. If individuality depends on materiality in its Aristotelian sense, then it is something accidental. If individuality is something accidental, then the individual is an incident. Within this frame of mind, the conclusion has to be drawn that it is essentially identical with other individuals of the same kind. Nothing has its own identity. Every person is a nobody. The essence of Duns Scotus’ revolutionary theory, based on the majority report of the Christian thirteenth century, can simply be worded: it gives everything its own identity and every person her 82 83

84 85

See Lectura II 3.166-168. Lectura II 3.167: ‘Socrates et Plato differunt. Ergo, oportet adinvenire aliqua quibus differunt, ad quae ultimo stat eorum differentia. Sed natura in hoc et in illo non est causa differentiae primo, sed convenienti­ae. [...] Ergo, oportet dare aliud quo differunt. Hoc non est quantitas, nec exsistentia, nec negatio, sicut ostensum est in quaestionibus praecedentibus.’ See Lectura II 3.1-4. Lectura II 3.167: ‘Hoc non est quantitas, nec exsistentia, nec negatio, sicut ostensum est in quaestionibus praecedentibus.’

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or his proper identity.86 Individuality rests on the datum that everything is essentially identical with itself and that everyone is identical with herself or himself. In this new way of ideas, individuality is disconnected from being material, but the miraculous upshot is that matter itself is also saved from being nothing. What is material, is not only something, but matter has also its own form.87 There is rise, greatness, and fall, glittering and perishal. In the domain of what is material, things come into existence and perish. A natural factor requires a passive element (passivum) on which that factor acts (agit), and what is passive is acted upon by that factor and changes (transmutatur) from one state to another (opposites). On the one hand, there is the priority of generation and corruption,88 on the other hand, corruption, decay and perishal have priority over generation and coming into existence.89 The point of what is corruptible is that there is no transition to nothing. There can be no processes of change without matter, for there are no processes of change without decline or disappearance.90 An interesting feature of Duns Scotus’ theory of the material substance is his view of action at a distance. The preliminary issue is whether action at a distance is possible at all. There is a massive tradition of contiguism. Next to Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas counts among the most radical defenders of causal contiguism. Aquinas was convinced of the necessity of contact between agent and patient through the comprehensiveness of Aristotle’s argumentation in his Physics:91 The first logical result of this conviction was that Thomas extended Aristotle’s contig­uist principle from the corporeal to the divine and the angelic agents. The second result came about when Thomas was faced with certain corporeal agents which seemed to act at a distance. Among 86 87 88 89

90 91

See also Gondras, ‘La matière selon Pierre de Falco,’ Studia Scotistica I 297-308. See Lectura II 12. See Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, chapter 2, and the fine appendix: ‘The Metaphysics of Generation and Corruption’ (257-63). See Lectura II 12.11 and 13; compare Lectura II 12.15: ‘Agens quod habet in virtute sua totum effectum, non minus potest producere amoto quocumque quo posito magis debiliatur virtus quam eius quam fortificetur. [...] Per actionem autem in contrarium corrumpendum, debiliatur virtus eius activa et non fortificatur. Igitur, agens naturale amoto quo­ cumque passo potest producere effectum.’ See Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, chapters 2 and 3. Thomas Aquinas, Scriptum I.1 article 1, De potentia 6.7 article 12, Quodlibet VI 2.1 and Summa Theologiae I 8.1 refer to Physics VII 2.

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them are the sun, together with other celestial bodies; the benum­bing fish; the magnet; and menstruating women.92 In all these cases, the physically adjacent media do not seem to be affected by the actions of the agents, and in all these cases Thomas Aquinas assumes that each medium receives the action of the agent in its own way so that no effects are observable.93 When we analyze this type of methodology, we have to conclude that Thomas Aquinas interprets certain empirical facts in an a priori manner by covering them with an a priori wanted, but speculative explana­ tion. This means that a theoretical element is required by the contents and the structure of the theory he embraces, whereas that element cannot be confirmed empirically. Duns Scotus is clearly dissatisfied with this type of methodology.94 Duns Scotus uses the distant sun’s generating new plants in the earth and the torpedo fish’s benumbing the hand of the fisherman without affecting the net in which it is caught as the starting point of his approach.95 So, a created agent can act at a distance.96 Moreover, the immaterial act of an angelic locution does not depend on a material medium, and even human seeing is a distant act. God can act on any distant creature without material affinity, since his action possibilities are infinite.97 However, we have also to be aware that Duns Scotus is a moderate non-contiguist: If holding a contact between agent and patient to be absolutely (unconditionally) neces­sary for causation is causal contiguism, and holding 92 93 94 95 96

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Kovach, ‘Action at a distance in Duns Scotus and modern science,’ Studia Scotistica VI 484 (477-90). See Thomas Aquinas, Physica VII lectura 4 n. 909. See Hempel, Philosophy of the Natural Sciences, chapter 2. Scotus’ line of argumentation shows the way to modern scientific methodology. On solar generation, see Lectura I 37.6 and Ordinatio I 37.4-5. On benumbing fish, see Lectura I 37.6 and Ordinatio I 37.3. Lectura I 37.6: ‘Unde aliquod agens creatum potest agere in distans, licet non simili actione agat in distans sicut in immediatum, – sicut piscis in rete causat stuporem in manu (exemplum Commentatoris in De caelo et mundo). Similiter, aliquod agens agit in immediatum, nec est illa actio necessaria ad hoc agat in immediatum, nec eadem potentia qua agit in immediatum agit semper in mediatum, – sicut sol per potentiam suam generat mineras vel alia mixta hic inferius.’ Lectura I 37.7: ‘Et multo fortius Deus per voluntatem suam potest causare aliquid in aliquo distante, ubi non portet ipsum esse secundum essentiam.’ See also Lectura I 37.5. Cf. Ordinatio I 37.5 and 7, and Ordinatio I 37.6-7.

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action at a distance simply (uncon­ditionally) possible is anti-contiguism; then the Scotistic position is clearly an explicit compromise between the two generic extremes. Scotus’ insistence on contact by power between the natural agent and its patient is obviously a contiguist element in his theory, whereas his teaching that natural agents and angels as well as God can act at a distance is patently an anti-contiguist component of the theory.98 Kovach rounds off this fine piece of research as follows: ‘The Scotistic theory of action at a distance is boldly original, and has played two generic roles in modern science and philosophy of science: roles pertaining to the orders of efficient and exemplary causality and involving all non-contiguist positions stated in modern thought­.’99 In sum, change and varied actions are no bad things – in spite of the pessimism it provo­ked in antiquity. Change is not evil. Only change makes growth and flourishing possible. Reality does not rest on the bodies of evil gods, for our material reality comes out of the hands of God – our God, the God of goodness, the God of his own goodness and creation participates in the goodness of the Creator. The pessimism which sighs under the feeling that reality is bad, is misplaced. Faith in the good Creator removes this pessimism and creates a much more healthy world view which honors matter. Matter is freed from the shadow of unhelpful religiosity and bad philosophy which despises matter, potentiality, the individual, and history. Theologically speaking, matter is the end term of the act of creating.100 If matter is formally the end term of creating, it is not as such potentiality. Matter is no acting in the sense of agere, but it works, as wood works. It is act in the sense of being real.101 It is real, enjoying its own form, although it is not the form of a specific material thing.102

98 99 100 101 102

Kovach, ‘Action at a distance in Duns Scotus and modern science,’ Studia Scotistica VI 480. Kovach’s is the superior treatment of this topic. Kovach, ‘Action at a distance in Duns Scotus and modern science,’ Studia Scotistica VI 489. See Lectura II 12.29, cf. Lectura II 12.36: ‘Quod terminat creationem, est realiter, et non in potentia.’ See Lectura II 12.38. See Lectura II 12.52-68. A physical explanation of material things, and, in particular, the explana­tion of the life of animals (reptiles and running animals), does not rest on a doctrine of the four elements which remain the same in mixta (see Lectura II 15.26-28). Christian thoug­ht demythologizes both in the realm of nature and in that of history. The doctrine of rationes seminales is also modernized.

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The Eternity of the World

The eternity of the world was hotly debated during the 1260s and the 1270s at the University of Paris. Bonaventure and Thomas Aquinas intensely dealt with this issue, provoked by challenges of members of the philosophical faculty.103 Sacred doctrine teaches that the view that the universe had no beginning in time runs counter to faith.104 All theologians, including the Christian Aristotelians, and among them Thomas Aquinas, agree on this point. The doctrine of creation implies that the te­aching of ancient physics on the actual eternity of the world is false, but, in contrast to most Parisian theologians, Thomas Aquinas states that the idea of an eternal world is not self-contradictory.105 Marshall summarizes this view as follows: It cannot be demonstrated that the world has a temporal beginning, any more that it can be demonstrated that it lacks one.106 Bonaventure and Henry of Ghent hold that the eternity of the world is impos­ sible.107 According to Bonaventure, if the world is created, then time starts to be time. Time has a beginning and to deny that time has a beginning is to deny that the world was created, for the idea of the eternity of the universe entails the denial of creation. The Parisian Articles of 1277 enforce the line of Bonaventure.108 According to Bonaventure and Henry of Ghent, the Christian 103

104 105 106

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See Van Steenberghen, La philosophie au xiiie siècle, chapters 8 and 9, and idem, Maître Siger de Brabant, 303-19, and Marenbon, Medieval Philosophy, 258-62: ‘The eternity of the world: Bonaventure, Aquinas and Boethius of Dacia.’ See Thomas Aquinas, De aeternitate mundi in Opera Omnia (ed. Busa) VI. See Van Steenberghen, ‘La controverse sur l’éternité du monde au xiiie siècle,’ Introduction, 512-30. Marshall, ‘Quod Scit Una Vetula,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 23. Marshall’s characterization deserves a critical analysis. It cannot be true as it stands, for this is not the point at stake, and I shall return to this issue. See Summa Theologiae I 46, and, in particular, article 2. Aquinas substantially nunanced his position in De aeternitate mundi – see Marenbon, Medieval Philosophy, 260-1. On Bonaventure, see Van Steenberghen, Introduction, 515-19, and idem, Maître Siger de Brabant, 33-46: ‘Interventions de S. Bonaventure’ (1267-68), and 102-15: ‘Dernière intervention de S. Bonaventure’ (1273). On Henry of Ghent, see Macken, ‘L’argumentation contre une éternité possible du monde chez Henri du Gand,’ Studia Scotistica I 309-23. See Van Steenberghen, ‘Saint Bonaventure contre l’éternité du monde,’ Introduction, 40420. According to Michon, the stance of Bonaventure was more complex – see Michon, Thomas d’Aquin et la controverse sur l’éternité du monde, 51-5. Duns does not take into account this complex stance of Bonaventure.

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faith itself is necessarily a consistent whole. So, this overall consistency implies that every theory which excludes the truth of this faith, must be inconsistent. Duns Scotus discusses the eternity of the world in Lectura II 1.90-154 (quaestio 3), and Ordinatio II 1.95-178 (quaestio 3). No Christian thinker defended that the eternity of the world is something essential for the world. Duns derives the arguments on behalf of the affirmation of the eternity of the world from the corpus aristotelicum (Lectura II 1.91-94 // Ordinatio II 1.96-99). The opposite view is based on the Augustinian definition of creatura which tells us that a creatura is an entity that did not exist once (Lectura II 1.95). Different kinds of theories are possible, but all these theories blend the issue of the possibility of an eternal world with the issue of demonstrability: either the world is not eternal, but the impossibility of an eternal world cannot be proved, or, on the contrary, that impossibility can be proved and demonstrated indeed. The issue is not whether it be true or not that the world is actually eternal, but whether the impossibility of an eternal world can be proved. There is no difference of opinion about the possibility of a non-eternal world, because all Latin theologians and philosophers believed that the world began in time. It also follows from Duns Scotus’ position in Lectura II 1.1-89 and Ordinatio II 1.1-91 that the article of faith concerning a non-eternal world is accompanied by the issues of the provability of the eternity or non-eternity of the world as such. However, what does Duns Scotus actually defend in Lectura II 1.90-154 and Ordinatio II 1.92-178? Duns Scotus’ personal analysis circles around the poles of two opposite theories. The first theory defends that the proposal that God cannot produce creatures into being from eternity, cannot be proved (Lectura II 1.96-105). An original spokesman of this option is Thomas Aquinas who owns the arguments that occur in Lectura II 1.96-97 and 103. It is simply the view that the belief that the world is not eternal, is an article of faith, and an article of faith cannot be proved (Lectura II 1.97). In Ordinatio II 1.95 the question runs as follows: Third, I ask whether it is possible that God produces something differing from him, without a beginning.109 The issue at stake is not whether it is true that God produced something else without a beginning. He certainly does not, but the question runs whether it is possible. Is the temporality of the universe a contingent feature of creation, or is it not? Although the formulae of Lectura II 1 and Ordinatio II 1 differ, the 109

Ordinatio II 1.95: ‘Tertio, quaero utrum sit possibile Deum producer aliquid “aliud a se” sine principio.’

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issues are the same: Lectura II 1, quaestio 3, asks whether God can eternally create and Ordinatio II 1, quaestio 3, whether God can produce something else without a beginning. In both cases the position of Thomas Aquinas is crucial: there is the possibility of an eternal creation, because the impossibility of an eternal creation cannot be demonstrated (Ordinatio II 1.102). Because we cannot demonstrate the impossibility of not-p, p is possible.110 The second theory proposes that it can be proved that an eternal word is impossible (Lectura II 1.106-115 // Ordinatio II 1.117-129). Duns steers a methodologically interesting course. There are two options, and, then, first, he chooses position in the first theory and he refutes the arguments in favor of the second theory on the basis of the first theory.111 Second, Duns chooses position in the second theory and he refutes the arguments in favor of the first theory on he basis of the second one.112 The analysis of the initial arguments results in the conclusion that matter which is ‘unbegotten,’ need not to be eternal, but the definition of ‘creation’ itself does not point out that once there was no creation (Lectura II 1.152-154). On the level of definitions, the issue cannot be decided and the argu­ments in favor of both theories can be refuted. The question of provability remains open. The special feature of this quaestio is that Duns’ treatment only consists of refutations, whereas he usually finishes of with proofs. Nevertheless, it is quite helpful to have a further look at the ways the thesis that the notion of eternal creation is contradictory is argued for. In Ordinatio II 1.121 Scotus brings forward an argument which rests on Aristotle’s famous adage: ‘Everything that is, when it is, is necessary.’113 This principle implies that it is only (diachronically) possible that somet­hing is not the case, if its potentiality precedes its actualization, but if something is eternal, then there is no preceding potentiality to account for a possible non-actualization. So, if the world is eternal, then everything is necessary.114 However, it is impossible that 110

111

112 113 114

Such a principle subscribes the parallelism of thinking and being, the characteristic of Greek philosophy, because it assumes that the situation of proof guarantees ontological implications. See Lectura II 1.116-129, running parallel to Lectura II 1.107-115. In Lectura II 1, the second theory in which Duns has the most urgent interest, is dealt with first, but in Ordinatio II 1 the order is reversed. Now, the first theory is dealt with first: see Ordinatio II 1.102-116 and 130-153. See Lectura II 1.130-51, running parallel to Lectura II 1.96-105. Ordinatio II 1.121: ‘Omne quod est, quando est, necesse est esse.’ On this principle, see Vos, ‘The Indispensability of Freewill. Scotus can speak for himself,’ Medioevo 30 (2005) 171-90. Ordinatio II 1.121: ‘Non potest non esse nisi quia potentia praecedit esse eius, per quam potest impediri esse. Sed si aliquid fuit ab aeterno a Deo, nulla potentia praecessit eius

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everyt­hing is necessary. Therefore, the world is not eternal and had a beginning. The non-eternity of the world can be proved on the basis of its contingency. Now we meet a crucial aspect of the pre-Scotian stage of Christian thought. ­Bo­naventu­re and Henry of Ghent defend the same kind of theological position as Duns Scotus does, but they do so without the dialogical context of the ars obligatoria and the tool of the logic of synchronic contingency and its affiliated theories.115 Their conceptual structures are a blend of the logica modernorum and act-potentiality patterns, based on the equivalence of the crucial notions of immutability and necessity.116 On the one hand, this equivalence is a dangerous one, since it entails that the theory of God’s immutable knowledge means that everything is necessary. This necessitarianism is precisely the way of thought Bonaventure, Henry of Ghent and all the condemnations of the 1270s and the 1280s reject. On the other hand, the theory of the eternity of the world follows from the Aristotelian adage ‘Everything that is, when it is, is necessary,’ for the necessity of the world follows from this principle. However, if the principle of contingency is held to refute this necessitarianism, it also refutes immutability and the eternity of the world. However, this way out is not viable for Scotus, for he rejects the equivalence of the notions of immutability and necessity, and, therefore, we state the paradoxical fact that it is exactly the new logic of radical contingency which precludes an easy victory over the theory of the eternal world. The same point can be made in a different way: In Scotian terms, Bonaventure and Henry of Ghent assume that structural priority entails diachronic priority, but it is the other way around: diachronic contingency entails synchronic contingency. There is still a decisive difference between Scotus and Thomas Aquinas, seen through the lenses of the young Duns. Duns acknowledges that he is unable to prove that the world cannot be eternal, but he does not exclude that it is still objectively possible to demonstrate that impossibility, although at the moment of studying the issue he is unable to decide it. The difference seems to be that, for Aquinas, being eternal is an accidental property of the universe, whereas Scotus thinks that it is still possible that it is an impossible property. When Duns Scotus discusses the arguments of John of Peckham and Henry of Ghent, his introductory remark says:

115 116

esse a Deo. Igitur, non potuit non esse a Deo.’ Cf. Lectura II 1.108. This argument was taken from Henry of Ghent’s Quodlibet I 7-8. See DPhil chapter 5: ‘Ars obligatoria.’ On the issue of the equivalence of immutability and necessity, see DPhil § 16.4.

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It does not seem to me that these arguments are necessarily valid.117 The incompatibility of creation and eternity is the heart of the matter.118 If the possibility of the incompatibility of creation and eternity can be accepted, then the alternative option can be rejected from the viewpoint of John of Peckham and Henry of Ghent.119 The alternative option rests on the following deduction: a) One cannot prove that the world must have a beginning. b) Therefore: The opposite is possible. Here, the deduction is not valid. The antecedent can mean: a1) at a certain time, the experts are unable to deliver a proof of the non-eternity of the world, and a2) it is doxastically impossible for a that the world had a beginning. a2) does not follow from a1). If, for Thomas Aquinas, a2) doxastically follows from a1), then much more is wrong. Here, as far as Thomas Aquinas is concerned, we have the source of the worries of Bonaventure and John of Peckham, Henry of Ghent and Duns Scotus. They would surely have rejected a3): it is epistemically impossible for a that the world had a beginning, a claim by implication subscribed to by Thomas Aquinas. However, objectively, a2) does not follow from a1), whereas a3) is indis­pensable for maintaining b). The acceptibility of the antecedent a) and the acceptability of the derivation itself are two things. One can accept a certain theoretical situation or a philosophi­cal field of forces at a certain time, whereas the option of the impossibility of The world had no beginning is still an open option, and this is precisely what Thomas Aquinas denies. The openness of this option is Duns Scotus’ position in Lectura II 1 (about 1299) and Ordinatio II 1 (1302). Richard Cross cherishes a different view. According to him, like Aquinas, Scotus has prima facie no difficulty allowing for the possibility of an eternal universe with no beginning in time. ‘His opinion here will thus be diametrically opposed to that of his great Franciscan predecessor Bonaventure.’120 However, Bonaventure and Thomas Aquinas, Henry of Ghent and Duns Scotus 117 118

119 120

Lectura II 1.116: ‘Non videtur mihi quod istae rationes necessario concludunt.’ See Lectura II 1.130: ‘Repugnat creaturae fuisse ab aeterno, quia repugnat infinito esse actu pertransitum.’ Cf. Lectura II 1.114, where the central point supports Lectura II 1.107-113 and 115. If so, the argumentation of Lectura II 1.96-105 can be refuted. See Etzkorn, ‘John Peckham,’ EP VII (22006) 161-3 (2005), and Maria Lucrezia Leone, ‘Henry of Ghent,’ bibliography updated (2005), EP IV (22006) 315. Cross, Duns Scotus, 162, note 13.

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not only accept the factual truth, that the universe has a beginning in time, but Duns Scotus is also diametrically opposed to Thomas Aquinas, because he believes that an eternal universe is impossible, and that is precisely what Bona­ venture also believes. So, Scotus is not diametrically opposed to Bonaventure. In the Lectura and the Ordinatio Duns Scotus only differs from Bonaventure with respect to the point of demonstrability: ‘Am I able to demonstrate that only a beginning in time is possible?’ Moreover, Duns does neither think that ‘Aquinas’s is a stronger view.’121 In Ordinatio II 1.155-172 Scotus refutes all the arguments brought forward by the Aristotelians to prove the possibility of an eternal world and he is certain that he had already refuted the possibility of a necessary world.122 Aquinas allows the possibility of a necessary world. So, the world isnecessary and creation is impossible. Aquinas did not say this and did not see this, but it follows from his premisses. It is even the case that atheism is to be derived from Thomism and neo-Thomism, and not only from Aristotelianism. However, we discern a remarkable shift of opinion in Scotus’ Reportata Parisiensia II 1 (1304). In Reportata Parisiensia II 1, quaestio 4: ‘Whether God has produced the world without a beginning of its duration’ Duns Scotus returns to the issue of the eternity of the world.123 It must have been in the autumn of 1304. Then he states that all theologians are convinced that the world had a beginning, but that they differ with regard to the question whether this is a pure article of faith. According to Thomas Aquinas’ approach, the belief that the world is not eternal has to be accepted on faith alone, and cannot be proved. The opposite view is discussed on the basis of Quodlibet I 7-8 of Henry of Ghent. However, Scotus argues in Reportata Parisiensia II 1 (quaestio 4) that the arguments of Thomas Aquinas defending that an eternal creation is possible, are not valid, neither on the part of the world, nor on the part of God.124 Duns does not focus on the existence of the world as such, but on the nature of creation. On the essential level (per quod quid est) it can be concluded that something is incompatible with something else, or is compatible with something else, and being eternal is incompatible with a created essence which is 121 122

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Cross, ibidem. In fact, Cross confuses the issues of the possible eternityof the universe and the infinity of a causal regress: an infinite essentially ordered causation of agent am is impossible, because in that case we cannot have a definite causation of am. Cf. Cross, Duns Scotus, 19-20 and 162, note 13. Opera Omnia XI A (Wadding) 251-5: Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 4: ‘Utrum Deus produxit mundum sine principio durationis.’ See Marchesi, ‘La dottrina della creazione nel pensiero di Duns Scoto,’ in Studia Scotistica VI (1978) 472-5. See Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 4.18.

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created out of nothing, although the fact that it does not exist now is not incompatible with being a creature. If the world has been created from eternity includes a contradiction, as is possible, then God has not willed an eternal world, for God does not will what is impossible.125 In Reportata Parisiensia II 1 (quaestio 3): ‘Whether God can create something’ Duns Scotus had already dealt with the issue of the eternity of the world.126 Here we meet arguments in a typically Scotian style: It is impossible that it is necessary that the world existed always, for it is necessary that the world is contingent.127 The world is the contingent creation of God who is willing and free, and since God is not a natural cause, but a personal and free agent, the world cannot be eternal, as Duns Scotus points out in Reportata Parisiensia II 1 (quaestio 3). Duns Scotus is now convinced that he is able to prove that God can create something post nihil, not only ordine naturae, but also ordine durationis. God can start to do something, and that is just the style of his acting willingly so that what he produces has a beginning in time. God acts by knowledge and will. Therefore, he can produce something else willingly.128 It can be proved by a natural argument that something can be caused by God immediately (Reporta­ta Parisiensia II 1, quaestio 3.9). It is God who can immediately cause any effect. Otherwise he cannot create at all, and to create is to produce something out of nothing. An immediate effect only receives its being from the First Cause. However, the philosophers have not delivered a correct analysis of the concept of creation. I say that Aristotle did not say that God created in this way (that is, ordine durationis). Although this is true, it does not follow that the opposite cannot be known by a natural argument. Nor does it follow: the philosophers have stated this; therefore, it is known, since it has been demonstrated by 125

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Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 4.18: ‘Igitur si mundum fuisse ab aeterno claudit contradictio­nem, sicut potest, secundum hunc doctorem, per rationem naturalem possumus hoc cognoscere quod voluntas Dei non est ad hoc.’ Cf. Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 4.21: ‘Tale (movens voluntarie) enim potest de novo movere, licet non aliter se habet. [...] Ideo dico quod tempus est in aliquo instanti, ut in principio, et in alio, ut in fine, licet sic non posset esse de magnitudine circulari.’ Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 3: ‘Utrum Deus possit aliquid creare.’ See Marchesi, ‘La dottrina della creazione nel pensiero di Duns Scoto,’ in Studia Scotistica VI 472-3. Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 4.22: ‘Non necesse est quod semper sit, sed potest semper esse, et potest non semper esse – et tunc non sit contingens necessarium, quia semper remanet contingens ex parte sui formaliter.’ See Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 3.11 (Lauriola § 136).

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a natural argument. The philosophers have not asser­ted many things which can be known by a natural argument, and they assert many things which cannot be proved.129 The philosophers have defended many things which cannot be proved, or can even be refuted, and they have not said many things which can certainly be demonstrated.130 However, the philosophers think that God is a natural agent, but this position is an inconsistent one: God is a willing and free agent, able to cause new things. God’s acts of will are contingent and have a determinate identity, actualized at a certain time. Although there is no self-evident argument, there is a natural one.131 The First Cause can produce something which differs from him by his will, and what is produced by his will, is produced purely contingently. Therefore, it can be produced eternally. Then it can be produced by giving it existence. Then it is possible that it was not before.132 To create, which is to produce out of nothing, is just to utilize this possibility. Duns Scotus rejects Thomas Aquinas’ idea that improvability is a useful thing. Powerful arguments are not the enemy of faith, but they confirm faith.133 Faith 129

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Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 3.11 (Lauriola § 135): ‘Dico quod Aristoteles non dixit Deum creare isto modo. Nec propter hoc sequitur quod contrarium non possit esse notum per rationem naturalem. Nec sequitur: philosophi hoc posuerunt; igitur, est notum demonstratione per rationem naturalem. Multa enim non posuerunt philosophi quae tamen possunt cognosci per rationem naturalem, et multa ponunt quae non possunt demonstrari.’ On a ratio naturalis, see DPhil 337-40 and 527-8, and on a ratio necessaria see DPhil 337-9. Cf. Marchesi, ‘La dottrina della creazione nel pensiero di Duns Scoto,’ Studia Scotistica VI 473-4. Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 3.12: ‘Nihil aliud a Deo est necessarium sibi ad acquirendum finem, nec ad perfectius habendum, neque ad tenendum. Igitur, non necessario vult aliquid aliud a se fore et producit per intellectum et voluntatem. Igitur, non necessario producit aliud a se. Igitur non sempiternaliter producit aliud a se.’ Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 3.11: ‘Prima causa potest producere aliud a se voluntate, et quod producitur voluntate, producitur mere contingenter. Igitur, potest produci sempiternaliter; igitur potest creari dando esse potest non esse prius duratione.’ Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 4.18: ‘Utile est quod adhuc habeant aliqualem rationem naturalem, quando potest haberi, ut credentes magis firmentur, non solum tenendo hoc propter illam rationem, sed magis adhaerendo, cum videant possibilitatem, et non credentes videant sophisticas rationes suas hoc improbantes posse prohiberi, et sint minus efficaciter protervi, nec propter hoc evacuatur fides, sed si esset simpliciter ratio

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must be open to proof. It is true that the philosophers have not seen this contradiction, but ‘they have said more things without any demonstrative force than they have demonstrated.’134 To create is an act of will; so, it is a free act, and a free act is a contingent act. God’s internal productions are eternal, but God does not produce anything else eternally.135 4.7

Time, Place and Space

4.7.1 Time The decisive metaphor of the old theory of time is the metaphor of the circumference of a circle which the geometrician draws from the center with his pair of compasses. The starting point is the dynamics of drawing. The metaphor of the circle can express the statics of the stationary circle while everything is fixed. However, the young Duns uses this metaphor from the dynamics of the flowing movement which makes visible that a circle is born by move­ment. The one arm of our pair of compasses rests in the center, whereas the other arm of our pair of compasses is drawn forward so that we see the rise of the line of the circle. When Duns uses this metaphor, the point at issue is that there is one point where the moving arm rests. The key of the metaphor is the starting point of Duns’ theory of time.136 The moving point refers to the moment of the now – the nunc temporis. The point of attention is the flash by which the circumference of the circle moves on and glides on from one point to another. Duns receives the metaphor on the basis of the static character of the circle and transforms the statics of the example into its dynamics. For Duns, there is not so much a circle, but only a moving point. There is no standing circumference, it is in statu nascendi. The flash of the moment is the point of contact where eternity

134 135 136

necessario, tunc non staret fides.’ Cf. Marchesi, ‘La dottrina della creazione nel pensiero di Duns Scoto,’ Studia Scotistica VI 475. Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 4.20: ‘Imo plura dixerunt sine demonstratione quam cum demonstratione.’ See Reportata Parisiensia II 1 quaestio 3.12. The example of the opposition is called: the center of the circumference. Then, the crucial aspect is the center. The example of center (centrum) and circumference (circumfe­ rentia) is utilized in Lectura I 39.85 as a metaphor of time as follows: ‘Si protrahatur linea recta, cuius unus punctus faciat centrum, et circumvolatur alius punctus – secundum imaginationem geometrae – ita quod non derelinquat aliquid stans, sed tantum causet circumferentiam in fluxu, illud centrum non est simul cum tota circumferentia, quia non simul est.’ On time, see also McCord Adams, William Ockham II 853-99.

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touches time. Eternity does not close time, it opens up time and discloses time. The dynamics of time is the dynamics of eternity. Time is not a standing circle – it is not something standing (stans), it is an in-stant (in-stans).137 Duns’ creativity transforms the picture into its opposite: The same is true of time: a moment of it is all there is. Therefore, although time continu­ously flows, as a whole it is not simultaneous with eternity. Hence, time is not a circum­ference which is standing still, but a flowing circumference, and therefore, only the temporal now is present to eternity.138 The notion of eternity mainly disappeared from the scene of the modern theory of time, but, for centuries, the theory of time was dominated by the ideas of eternity and time. The crucial methodological rule of thumb obtains here too: new insights do not require new terms and new formulations. Within an auctoritates culture, interpretation and exponere reverenter often mean that new wine is poured into old wineskins. We shall see that Duns also works with the old Boethian adage that eternity is endless life, possessed perfectly and all at once.139 However, it is not allowed to conclude from this fact that Duns embraces a Boethius-like theory of time and eternity. Divine knowledge of time and future is possible, and God enjoys eternal­ knowled­ge of all events of Actua. The alternative position puts all its money on the one horse of necessary eternity. We find the metaphors of the stick in the river and of the center and the circumference of the circle. Let us see how Duns envisages the opposite view. Lectura I 39.16 closes a series of arguments which are used to deny that God has determinate, infallible and immutable knowledge of future and contingents states of affairs, and that God’s omniscience is compatible with the contingency of the known states of affairs. They are also used to defend that God has necessary knowledge of mutable things. All these arguments come from rival views which exclude the Christian option. However, before starting 137 138

139

Compare in Lectura I 39.85 ‘ita quod non relinquat aliquid stans’ with ‘sic est de tempore quod nihil eius est nisi instans’ (see note 126). Lectura I 39.85: ‘Sic est de tempore, quod nihil eius est nisi instans; et ideo licet continue fluat, non erit totum simul respectu aeternitatis. Unde circumferentia stans non est tempus, sed est circumferentia fluens. Et ideo nihil est praesens aeternitati nisi nunc temporis.’ See CF 176-8. See Quodlibet 6.14: ‘Aeternitas est interminabilis vitae tota simul et perfecta possessio,’ quoting Boethius, Consolatio Philosophiae 5.6

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the body of the question Duns discusses two alternative theories.140 The first theory which says that God’s knowledge is certain because of the ideas in the divine mind defends a threefold representation of God’s ideas (Lectura I 39.1822). The adherent of this theory discussed by Duns is Thomas Aquinas.141 The second theory, also to be found in Thomas Aquinas, looks on the river of time as simultaneously present to God (Lectura I 39.23-30). These alternatives do not defend that the contingency of reality is incompatible with divine knowledge. Consequently, they are not found in the part of the obiecta, but precede Duns’ own contribution in the body of the article. Duns’ complaint shall be that they defend truth in the wrong way, since the consequences of their argumentations lead to the position of the opposi­tion. Duns Scotus’ strategy also runs along quite the same lines in Reportatio Parisiensis I 38-40, Lectura I 39-40. and Ordinatio I 39-40. This evidence confirms that he did not change his mind.142 According to the necessitarian model of time, eternity is simultaneous with the whole of time. One has to avoid succession language. It is wrong to look upon eternity as a stick in a river as if the water of the river of time is present to the stick in the river. We imagine an empty bed and a stick fixed in the bed of the river. The water flows. A fluvius (Latin: river) is that which flows (fluit). The water of the river flows alongside the stick, but such a metaphor is mistaken: They say, one should not use the image that time and that which is flowing in time are present in eternity as a stick is present to the entire river if it is fixed in the middle of the river; for a stick is successively present to the entire river, because it is present to its parts (Lectura I 39.23).

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See Lectura I 39.18-30. See Ordinatio I 39.7-12. Consult CF 72-88. See Hoenen, ‘A propos de Lectura I 39: un passage dissimulé de Thomas d’Aquin chez Duns Scot?,’ Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire de moyen âge 52 (1985) 231-6. For Reportatio Parisiensis I 38.11-34 and I 39-40.9-15, see Söder (ed.), Johannes Duns Scotus. Pariser Vorlesungen über Wissen und Kontingenz, 38-49 and 70-3, respectively, and for Ordinatio I 38-39.7-12, see Opera Omnia VI 406-13. Cf. Cross, ‘Duns Scotus on Eternity and Timelessness,’ Faith and Philosophy 14 (1997) 3-25, where he defends that the Lectura I 39 version deviates from Duns’ standard theory. Cross also finds the standard version in Quodlibet 14. If an interpretation of a Quodlibet text differs from what is found in Lectura I-II, it is not a priori impossible that such an interpretation is correct, but it is still rather improbable. Moreover, the Appendix of Opera Omnia VI is certainly a – late – Scotus text. It is, in fact, Ordinatio I 39.

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This model is wrong, since it meddles eternity with successive moments of time and a flow of times. However, eternity is one just as the Eternal is one: Eternity is simultaneous with time as a whole and with all things flowing in time, so that time as a whole and what is successively in time, is present to eternity.143 The one point of eternity contracts the whole of time into this one and the same point. Eternity is the still standing center, surrounded by the still standing circle.144 ‘If our time as a whole is simultaneous with God’s time, then God’s eternal now comprises our time as a whole’ (Lectura I 39.83). Duns is not happy with this approach and he expresses his amazament and embarras­sment in Reportatio Parisiensis I 38.20 by saying: ‘I do not grasp this! (Hoc non capio).’ This is incomprehensible, for divine eternity is the ground of presence only at an exis­ting time. Eternity implies perfect and impeccable presence, but being present can only be actualized at present moments of time and in existing places. If a succession of variables is infinite, God cannot be absolutely present, since he cannot be present to what does not exist. ‘God is not present, therefore, to the current of time as a whole.’145 There still follows another consequence. If the opposite of what Duns Scotus defends were to be true and the whole of time were to be simultaneously present to the presently existing moment of eternity, then the whole of temporal reality would be actual at one and the same moment of time and it would be impossible for God to work new deeds.146 Moreover, the mind of God would devaluate after all, if this theory were true. ‘If he does not know them (namely, future things) certainly, then his knowing of what has been made is different from his knowing of what will be made.’147 The past and the future would disappear. The theory of time based on closed eternity is again and again rejected. The criticism of Thomas Aquinas’ 143 144 145

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Lectura I 39.23. The refutation in Lectura I 39.27-30 is accompanied by a second refutation in Lectura I 39.84-87. See Lectura I 39.27: ‘Quod non est, non potest esse ratio alicui exsistendi praesentialiter. Igitur, similiter Deus non erit praesens toti tempori fluenti.’ Cf. Reportatio Parisiensis I 38.20 and Ordinatio I 39.9, first part, while this first part also covers the argument of Reportatio Parisiensis I 38.21. See Lectura I 39.28: ‘Si futurum contingens secundum suam actualem exsistentiam comparatur Deo, non causabit futurum contingens nisi bis causet idem.’ Cf. Reportatio Parisiensis I 38.22 and Ordinatio I 39.9, second part. Lectura I 39.29. Cf. Reportatio Parisiensis I 38.23-24 and Ordinatio I 39.10.

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view run closely parallel in Lectura I 39 (about 1298), Reportatio Parisien­sis I 38-39 (1302-1303) and in Ordinatio I 39 (a rather late text). The Eleatic model of reality would be the iron consequence. The Christian faith would fall victim to a wrong idea of eternity. Here, eternity closes reality and the temporal history of our reality and we can say goodbye to history. On the one hand, in terms of Duns Scotus’ own logic of time, it sins against true contingency, and ‘synchronic’ contingency is also the key for his notion of eternity which is built on simultaneous contingency. On the other hand, Duns Scotus’ theory faces difficulties on its own. It is not helpful to analyze and to assess this theory in terms of MacTaggart’s A-series and B-series of time, since both series look upon time as a necessary whole. Duns Scotus approaches the present and the future in terms of synchronic contingency, but his analysis of the past is different. The pattern that contingency implies factual truth revenges itself in Duns’ theory of the past just as in his investigations of the ground and rationale of contingency. Actualism is a residual ambivalence in the theory of contingency. The idea is temporal necessity: When something has happened, it cannot be made undone any more. However, the same is true of present truth and future truth. Past, present and future have to be analyzed along the same modal lines. 4.7.2 Place and Space The modern proposals and dilemmas of the theory of space are not very helpful to elucidate what in ancient Greek philosophy the notions of place and space are up to. The pre-Socratics including the Atomists associated being with spatial extension and, in a sense, most ancient thought was materialist. Even Christian third-century theology understood what the Logos is in terms of something material however perfect and subtle it may be. All that exists has a place (topos). Plato focused on the area (chora) in which genesis takes place.148 ‘Place’ and ‘space’ have something to do with the function of a receptacle. The receptacle is the area (‘space,’ chora) of everything that becomes. ‘It was a common Greek belief that the father was the sole cause of generation, the mother contributing only nourish­ment and a place for the embryo to grow in,’149 and this common Greek belief was a rather common ancient conviction, but not something the modern exact mind is easily to come forward with. The receptacle is the area (‘space,’ chora) of everything that becomes. It develo­ped into Aristotle’s material cause. For Aristotle, the subject-matter of knowledge is the intelligible structure of the world, and the 148 149

See Plato, Timaeus 52a-c. Guthrie, The Later Plato and the Academy, 264 (259-70).

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intelligible structure of the world is to be located in the dimension of the Forms. What exists in the sensible world is a compound (Greek syntheton, ‘composite’ or ‘concrete’ object), consisting of a substra­tum (hypokeimenon, ‘underlying’), also called its matter (hylè), informed by, or posses­sing, a certain form (eidos).150 What is material, or ‘motherly,’ is the ‘place’ of change and becoming. Thus, we can under­stand that according to Aristotle the dimension where genesis takes place is the domension of hulè. Aristotle defined topos as the fixed boundary of the containing body at which it is in contact with the contained body.151 Objects can change place, taking another place elsewhere in a containing body. The remarka­ble effect of Aristotle’s definition of place is that the surface of the contained body defines the adjacent boundary of the containing body. On the one hand, two things only interchange places exactly, if they are identical in volume and shape. Place is a kind of substratum. On the other hand, ‘Aristotle thought of the cosmos as a system of concentric spheres, and the outer­most sphere of the cosmos would, on his view, define all other places in relation to itself.’152 A place only serves as a container, but it only does so in an immobile cosmos. Perhaps the most perplexing dilemma in Aristotle’s doctrine of place arose from the apparent irreconcilability of the requirements that a place be both immobile and also in direct contact with the thing it con­tained.153 Aristotle’s suggestions on place and space puzzled Aristotelian commentators all the time. The medieval reactions were rather varied. Fourteenth-century thinkers listed the properties of place in many ways,154 but now Duns Scotus’ 150 151

152 153 154

Guthrie, The History of Greek Philosophy VI. Aristotle, 103 (100-5). Aristotle, Physics iv 212a.5-7. For his discussion of topos, see Physics iv 208a-213a. On Aristotle’s notion of place, see Grant, ‘The Medieval Doctrine of Place,’ in Maierù and Paravicini Bagliani (eds.), Studi sul xiv secolo, 57-61. Smart, ‘Space,’ The Encyclopedia of Philosophy VII 506. Grant, ‘The Medieval Doctrine of Place,’ in Maierù and Paravicini Bagliani (eds.), Studi sul xiv secolo, 59. See Grant, op. cit., 61-3.

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elementary definition of locus, to be found within the context of his angelology, has to be spelled out: First, I say that to contain exclusively a body belongs to a place: a body is in a place which contains it exclusively; second, the body is in an actual place; and third, it is in a determinate place; and fourth, the body is in a place commensurably; and fifth, a body is in this or that place; and sixth, a body is naturally in a place, or by force.155 The whole analysis turns around the notions of locus (place, space) and corpus. A body is a mathematical object, and we see the category of quantity conquering a new independent position, enjoying priority over the category of quality. The first five conditions are conditions which concern a body as a quantity, and the sixth condition, the last one, formulates a physical condition. The main viewpoints are quantitative. Being in a place satisfies five relations, and this account of being in a place also entails that a body is in a place if and only if all five conditions are met. The first condition tells us that it is characteristic of a place to contain a body exclusive­ly. The original meaning of place which still colors the ancient terminology of the theory of place and space is the geographical terminology we meet in talk on streets (Broad Street), squares (Wellington Square), places (States Place) and markets (Cornmarket), uniquely linked with proper names.156 This language delivers clear answers to the question: where? Again­st this background, some theoretical lines are drawn. When we abstract from qualitative properties what does then the container role of a place amount to? Place as space presupposes a surface (of longitude­ and latitude) that also implies con­tent.157 The distinction between surface and content is illustrated with the help of the example of a vase: a vase is a container and has a surface. The place of a vase has to be distinguished from the surface of the vase and from the content of the vase. A place contains a body 155

156 157

Lectura II 2.191: ‘Dico ergo primo quod loco convenit continere corpus praecise: est enim corpus in loco continente praecise; secundo, corpus est in loco actuali; et tertio, est in loco determinato; et quarto, corpus est in loco commensurative; et quinto, corpus est in loco hoc vel illo; et sexto, corpus est in loco naturaliter vel violenter.’ Cf. Ordinatio II 2.219 and 232-235. Consult Lectura II 2.190-211, and Ordinatio II 2..216-235. Unlike the English word ‘square,’ the Dutch plein (‘plain’) and the German Platz (place) do not take into account the geographical form of a Platz. Lectura II 2.195: ‘Continentia praecisa et indivisibilis secundum longitudinem et latitudinem, licet non secundum profunditatem, secundum quam ei non commensuratur’ belongs to the exclusive demarcation of spatiality (praecise).

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and it surrounds a body. There is an exclusive and indivisible content in terms of long­itude and latitude, not in terms of height or thickness. A place is the two-dimensional place of a container, but the content of the container is not commensurable with the height of the place. If a body is somewhere, then it is not the point that it covers a certain space of a place. The content of a body is only commensurable with its place as far as longitude and latitude matter so that we can answer the where?-question. The element of actual existence of space and places recurs in Duns’ theory of space, when he deals with the conditions of the spatiality of bodies. The second condition concerns the issue of the presence of a body at a real place.158 Having content belongs to the definition of locus (place); when something has been placed somewhere (locatum), then a locus is something where you can go. If b belongs to the definition a, and b is only potential, then a is also only potential. If a potential content suffices for the definition of locus, then a part would be spatial in a whole, since it is there potentially spatial. Factual separation and content determine the formation of the concept and the theory of space.159 A necessary condition is that something that is placed somewhere, divides the content. A space or place (locus) is something that is able to contain a body. Nevertheless, Duns denies that space has to be immutable or immobile as such. He rejects the option that the immobilitas loci has to be applied at the universe. He accepts a relative immobility which is required by the definition chased for – a kind of immobility which contrasts with spatial movement.160 The third condition concerns the point that a body is in a certain place/spa­ ce. That place has a certain magnitude. Magnitude means that both space and body are measurable and comparable. Spatiality also presupposes that a body is present at this place or that place, but at several or all places at the same time. In that case, a body would not be spatial.161 A body is also something which force can act upon. A natural place is not a natural place in virtue of something mythical or magical, but since a physical body and physical space belong together. Quantitative properties belong to physical entities. 158

159 160 161

Lectura II 2.207: ‘Corpus est in loco actuali, quia si superficies continens non sit divisa nisi in potentia, non est locus nisi potentia (nam ad rationem loci pertinet continere et ambire locatum; et si illud quod pertinet ad rationem alicuius, sit in potentiam tantum, ipsum est in potentia tantum.’ A comparable actualism is met in Bonaventure’s Scriptum I 37 pars 2.1 quaestio 1 (Opera Omnia I 653 a): ‘Esse locatum ponit ambitum et continentiam.’ See Lectura II 2.204. See Lectura II 2.210.

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What is – according to Aristotle – the immobile surface? Aristotle’s final answer is a cosmological one and some medievals ‘formulated an account of place as a distance relation between a container’s surface and some fixed immobile reference point or points: usually the centre and poles of the earth.’162 The fourteenth-century distinction between material and formal place had become standard. The basis for this distinction between materi­al and formal place had been laid by Grosseteste, Roger Bacon and Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas looked upon the whole river as the common place (locus communis) of the ship, and upon the river water as the proper place (locus proprius). This stance implies that a body at rest can have many places. Aquinas repaired this weak spot by stipulating that the essence of place is constituted by the position and relation (situs et ordo) of the container in relation to an immo­bile body.163 There is the view of Giles of Rome that the place of a body is the place of the entire universe as far as such a place is a part of the invariable whole. This approach of Giles of Rome can be called a formal one, for he also utilizes the concept of formal place, in con­trast to material place.164 Let us assume that a ship is at anchor in a river. According to Thomas Aquinas, the whole river is the common place (locus communis) of the ship. The proper place (locus proprius) is the river water itself, but then a ship being at rest in the river would have many places.165 The nature of place (ratio loci) is not the changing surface of the flowing water, but the relation to some immobile body, ‘the relationship of that surface to the whole immobile river. As long as that relationship remains fixed and constant, the place of the ship is said to be immobile despite the fact that the water surrounding the sides of the ship is continually flowing and therefore changing. The immobile river, in turn, is related in a con­stant way to the first container and locator of all things, the heaven.’166 Duns also mentions the view of Thomas Aquinas that the immobility of a place has to considered in terms of the relation between the entire

162 163 164

165 166

Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 208. On Thomas Aquinas’ view, see Grant, ‘The Medieval Doctrine of Place,’ in Maierù and Paravicini Bagliani (eds.), Studi sul xiv secolo, 63-5. On formal place, see Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 208-9, Grant, ‘The Medieval Doctrine of Place,’ in Maierù and Paravicini Bagliani (eds.), Studi sul xiv secolo, 63-72, and Trifogli, ‘Place of the Last Sphere,’ in Knuuttila et al. (eds.), Knowledge and the Sciences in Medieval Philosophy II 348-50. See Thomas Aquinas, In libros Physicorum IV lectio 6.14. Grant, ‘The Medieval Doctrine of Place,’ in Maierù and Paravicini Bagliani (eds.), Studi sul xiv secolo, 64.

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universe and the poles of the earth, because these relations were thought to be invariable.167 Duns also mentions the view of Giles of Rome that the place of a body is the place in relation to the entire universe.168 The notion of formal place is meant to provide for a fixed frame of reference, but, according to Scotus, it cannot help us out, for such a framework has no independent identity.169 The question whether the last sphere has a place on its own elicits a rather paradoxical answer along Aristotelian lines. The last sphere has no place, for the definition of place as an external container denies a place to the heavens. Giles of Rome takes quite another route. ‘Giles explains the permanence of place by the permanence of distance between the located body and the fixed point of the universe,’170 and he introduces a quantitative notion of distan­ce. ‘Place, in fact, according to Giles, serves essentially to evaluate motion and rest and it performs this function when it is defined as a distance that remains the same, if the located body is at rest, and varies, if the located body is in motion.’171 Duns follows a parallel strategy of emancipation from Aristotelian patterns of thought. ‘Giles’ emphasis on the role of place in the desription of motion seems to lead to a quantitative and relational notion of place. Giles, however, does not completely substitute the Aristotelian notion of place for that of place as a distance.’172 However, negative criticisms cannot be the end of the story. When we move, walk or travel, we must be able to indicate this in terms of places. We say of a mobile object that it was in such and such a place, and is now in some other place. If all places were absolutely mobile, we could not indicate any place. In order to avoid this dead end, Duns introduces a new concept: immobility, opposed to local motion. A place is immobile in contrast to the local motion which occurs in that place, although the place itself is corruptible as Duns notices in Lectura II 2.204:

167 168 169 170 171 172

Lectura II 2.198. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Physica IV lectio 6.14. Lectura II 2.199. This viewpoint was also defended by Aquinas. See Physica IV lectio 6.9. In fact, Giles of Rome made a use of it which differs from the Scotian one. Trifogli, ‘Place of the Last Sphere,’ in Knuuttila et al. (eds.), Knowledge and the Sciences in Medieval Philosophy II 349. Trifogli, ‘Place of the Last Sphere,’ in Knuuttila et al. (eds.), Knowledge and the Sciences in Medieval Philosophy II 349-50. Trifogli, ‘The Place of the Last Sphere,’ in Knuuttila et al. (eds.), op. cit., II 350.

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I say that a place is locally immobile: it is immobile in virtue of a kind of immobility which is opposed to local motion. However, a place itself is corruptible, as far as it is inclined to corruption so that it ceases to exist.173 Duhem and Grant called this new concept the concept of the immobility of place by equivalen­ce, derived from the extended wording we find in Ordinatio II 2.224: Therefore, I say that a place has immobility which is entirely opposed to local motion, and has incorruptible equivalence when we compare it with local motion.174 According to Duns, the successive places surrounding a the same fixed body are indiscernible: they have the same ordering within the whole of the universe and, in that sense, they are numerically identical. Duns not only endows the category of quality with priority, but also develops an approach which rests on mathematical relations. The notion of specific place developed by Duns is not to be confused with the concept of formal place. The idea here is that we do not need certain fixed reference points to anchor our talk about all other places – where these ‘other places’ are ex hypothesi unfixed or mobile. Rather, the whole collection of places is fixed and immobile; the identity of a place is established merely by its location within this whole.175 This approach does not imply that a collection of places is incorruptible. The universe is variable. Places depend on the universe, and not the other way around. A place exists as long as the universe does.176 Duns’ theory of equiva173

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Lectura II 2.204: ‘Dico quod locus est immobilis localiter: est enim immobilis immobilitate opposita motui locali; sed tamen locus est corruptibilis, prout sibi corruptio potest competere, ita quod desinit esse.’ On Scotus, see Grant, ‘The Medieval Doctrine of Place,’ in Maierù and Paravicini Bagliani (eds.), Studi sul xiv secolo, 65-7, and on Ockham, see Grant, op. cit., 67-72. Ordinatio II 2.224: ‘Dico igitur quod locus habet immobilitatem oppositam motui locali omnino, et incorruptibilitatem secundum aequivalentiam per comparationem ad motum localem.’ Cf. Lectura II 2.204. For Duhem on Duns Scotus on the doctrine of place, see Duhem, Le système du monde VII 207-12. Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 210. Ordinatio II 2.229: ‘Sed dico in proposito quod locus est immobilis per se et per accidens localiter, – tamen est corruptibilis moto subiecto localiter, quia tunc non manet in eo illa

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lent places challenged the theory of formal place which bases itself on cosmological considerations, working with constant and equidis­tant measures. Grant’s summary of Duns Scotus’ innovative ideas is a fine one: With Scotus, the immobility of place and of the body it contains is now determined by the essential equivalence of successive material places surrounding the same body. It is as if each place were the exact replica of its predecessor replacing it it without interrup­tion. Distance measurements from a given place to fixed termii were thus superfluous to establish immobility. Only the relationship between the containing surface and the body it contained need to be considered.177 The emancipation from old thought patterns continues, moving in the direction of early modern physics: Generally, Scotus’ account of space marks a strong move away from the Aristotelian accounts of two-dimensional place.178 4.8

Creation, Philosophy and Science

Scotus is not only a systematic thinker in the sense that his works abound in rigorous argumentations, but also in a more profound sense that his theories are a whole: they enjoy a unique coherence with each other. His doctrine of creation is intimately connected with the doctrine of God, ontology, including the crucial theory of synchronic contingency, the theory of will, and even christology. When we look at matters theological and philosophical, we discern movement and change from all sides. The theology of creation is not only wedded to the development of ontology, but also to the history of early modern physics.179

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ratio loci; et tamen non est corruptibilis in se et secundum aequivalentiam, quia necessario succedit illi corpori – in quo fuit illa ratio loci – aliud corpus in quo est alia ratio loci numero a praecedente, et tamen eadem praecedenti secundum aequivalen­tiam per comparationem ad motum localem.’ Grant, ‘The Medieval Doctrine of Place,’ in Maierù and Paravicini Bagliani (eds.), Studi sul xiv secolo, 67. Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 212. For final considerations, see Cross, op. cit., 212-13. For a fine overview of most twenty-century history of medieval and early modern physics, see Murdoch and Sylla, ‘Anneliese Maier and the History of Medieval Science,’ in Maierù and Paravicini Bagliani (eds.), Studi sul xiv secolo, 7-13. Cf. DPhil §§ 10.6-10.7.

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When one started to think about the spatial nature of the world, it was thought of as an all-pervading stuff or as some kind of container. When we read the famous creation story of Genesis 1, we discover that the whole of heaven and earth is seen as a building, a house with three floors where all kinds of inhabitants can live. If a thing can move from one place to another, it seems that there has to be something distinct from the material things which occupy space, as in a house or at a square. Although Lucretius believed that space was infini­te, he wrote of space as though it was a definite thing. Aristotle dealt with space in terms of place, whereas place is seen as the adjecent boundary of of the containing body. Aristotle is tantalizingly brief in indicating the category of position in his De Interpretatione, and Guthrie is tantalizingly brief in his comments on it: These categories he enumerates as ten: substance, quantity, quality, relation, place where, time when, position, state, acting and being acted on.180 Eventually, Aristotle tried to solve the dilemma’s elicited by his notion of place by an overall cosmological view.181 This structural element is also the key for Duns’ theory of space, and the starting point is again to be found in Lectura I 39. According to Duns and the opposition time and space run parallel. For the opposition, time enjoys a massive unity. Duns reasons from God’s infinity. However, Scotian actualism prevents that the possible openness of time and space runs parallel to God’s infinity. God would be present everywhere, in another world, and in this world.182 The proposition God is now in that world which does not exist cannot be true. The is (est) of God and the is (est) of ‘the world which does not exist,’ lie on the same ontological level so that the contradiction is patent. Therefore, the antecedent

180 181 182

Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy VI. Aristotle, 140. See Smart, ‘Space,’ The Encyclopedia of Philosophy VII 506, and Jammer, Concepts of Space (21969). Lectura I 39.87: ‘Est aliud universum quam modo est. Ergo: Modo est in illo universo quod non est.’ The consequent does not deliver a true conclusion, for the premiss is not true.

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There is another universe than there is now is also false. Duns’ way of thinking is open to an ontology of alternative worlds, but the indispemsable ontological tool box is missing. The alternative reality is the whole of what is not true contingently – in contrast to what is true contingently in Actua. Not only the esse of what is contingently implies true actuality, but also the esse in Duns Scotus’ crucial notions of cognitum esse and volitum esse is related to the actuality of the by God created universe. The world is possibly different, but here is no other possible world. Other convictions run parallel to this actualist one: space is possibly different, but there is no other posible space, and time is possibly different, but there is no other possible time. Since there is no other possible world, there is no other possible space and there are no other possible places. Since there is no other possible world, there is no other possible time and there are no other possible times. There are no other possible places where I am not now, for such places do not exist. Plantinga’s thesis that there are only the villages and the cities, the mountains and the valleys, the ways and the paths which there are now is also the presupposition of the ancient Christian actualism. James Ross bravely faced philosophical challenges, and, in particular, the question whether God created the only possible world, while a positive answer seems to be entailed by the famous contributions of Thomas Aquinas, Leibniz and Spinoza.183 Ross acknowledges that the known positions seem to put us into a logical box. ‘The only alternative to Spinoza seems to be a theory that God’s decision is based upon an infinite series of reasons plus an infinite series of reasons for the selection of the series of reasons selected.’184 Ross’s theory of reasons and explanations threatens to box in himself, but he also proposes a fascinating way out akin to Scotus’ way of thinking: the argument that the strict principle of sufficient reason is itself insufficient.185 We can see that creating the only one possible world is an impossible property, and if a theory of rational responsibility and of giving good reasons leads itself to contradictions, then such demands are themselves irratio­nal. The consistency of Scotus’ doctrine of creation is in itself a powerful argument for the tenability of his tradition based contributions which also embody a decisive cultural emancipation. I am inclined to stress the impact of the structural difference beween the Scotian harvest in the entire historical development of the doctrine of creation and pre-Christian traditions. Within the whole of the Christian 183 184 185

Ross, Philosophical Theology, 279-90. Ross, Philosophical Theology, 290. Ross, Philosophical Theology, 295-304, cf. 304-19.

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tradition, strong reminiscences of the Greek philosophical tradition endured in spite of the lucidity and strength of the main stream doctri­ne of creation. Emil Brunner also attempted a radical biblical approach in the doctrine of creation by avoiding both a synthesis of Chris­tian doctrine and oldfashioned cosmology, and an allegori­cal use of biblical testimonies. He accused the classic tradition of the first sin, and Karl Barth of the second one. It is clear for Brunner that not only the creation stories in the Bible must be dropped as sources of scientific knowledge of the world, but he also distances himself from the biblical picture of the world itself. In these respects, the position of nineteenth-century liberal theology was agressively clear, but orthodox and neo-orthodox theologies are often rather vague in their assessment of the presence of old-Semitic culture in the Old-Testament. Here, Brunner is clear, and the spiritual contents of his I-Thou based personalism are clear as well. Nevertheless, Brunner is stronger in negative criticisms than in delivering positive contributions and where the doctrine of creation meets the sciencies and philosophical chal­lenges, his theology shows mainly a ‘but not’ approach (Russell Stannard).186 We have to face theological dilemmas squarely and the theological dilemma the notion of creation elicits points itself to the way out. In the early history of the Christian Church creation faith was an extremely limited phenomenon, because polytheistic religions are nor familiar with belief in creation and do not know a Creator God. Only Jews and Christians believed in creation. Early Christian philosophy collided with Hellenistic philosophy, for the Christian notion of God is also excluded by the metaphysics of the Hellenistic philosophies, and the doctrine of creation is excluded by the cosmology of these same Hellenistic philosophies. Both Platonism and Aris­ totelianism, both Stoa and Neoplatonism imply that the notion of creation is impossible, just as it was excluded by the mythologies of the ancient Semitic religions. The Pauline idea of a creatio ex nihilo could not pop up in such worlds of belief.187 The implicit crucial issue is the viability of the concept of creation and that is precisely what Duns Scotus is focusing on. The context and the frontier seem altogether different, but the challenge embodied in what Thomas Aquinas proposes points in the same direction. Thomas Aquinas’ stance is not an innocent one. What is entailed by the assertion that view v cannot be proved or demonstrated? This assertion differs markedly from my saying that at the moment I am unable to prove that this and this is the case. Such a communication has no objective epistemological implications, but when it is asserted that v is 186 187

See especially Brunner, Dogmatik II 40-53. See Romans 4:17. Compare Colossians 1:15.

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undemonstrable, then the denial of v is possibly true. However, what is at stake here, is the creation of the world and ist undemonstrability implies that its denial is possibly true. Thus, the eternity of the world is possibly true, but for Thomas Aquinas are the notions of being eternal and being necessary equivalent. However, if the world is possibly necessary, then it is necessary, but if it is necessary, then it is impossible that there is a Creator. The possibility of monotheism hinges on the consistency of the concept of creation. Duns Scotus’ theology of creation embodies a consistent theory of creation.

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Chapter 5

Ethics 5.1

Introduction

Neither morality nor ethics appeared out of the blue. Indeed, merciful morality came from heaven alone. The earliest origins of good morality and rational ethics are shrouded in mystery. Even analyses of Old Testament morality are historically slim and do not tell much about an early dynamics of a moral sense. When nineteenth-century thought tried to give a rational foundation to ethics, comparative ethics not only mapped the different options, but also assumed that the history of morality easily shows an ethical foundation to which all options could be reduced. According to this rationalist view, rational ethics is eventually natural ethics and natural ethics is a natural law-based ethics. Natural religion and natural morality are present in every society and with all peoples. This necessitarian hope focused on a descriptive ethics which would reveal the common denominator of basic moral convictions, for if reality is necessary, it suffices scientifically to describe reality. Nineteenth-century Enlightenment thinking was convinced that it would not be difficult to prove the tenets of eighteenth-century, a-historical Enlightenment. According to the radical Enlightenment it would be a simple task to dismantle the Christian convictions – the unethical distortions of an immoral church. This radical Enlightenment approach, however, is as improbable as the assumpti­on that the Old Testament faith can be recovered by energetically studying the other ancient Semitic religions and by reconstructing the lowest common denominator of their basic religious convictions. This Enlightenment approach would imply that the lowest common denominator of ancient Semitic religions is the core of the biblical faith of Old Israel,1 but the historical and epistemological presuppositions of this Enlightenment dogma are untenable.2 If they were to have been tenable, the theological and philosophical ethics of John Duns could never have come into existence, because it is excluded by the common core of ancient ethics.

1 On the distinctive nature of Old Testament ethics, see Van Oyen, Ethik des Alten Testaments, although even Van Oyen confuses the notions of Old Testament and Israel. 2 See KN, chapters 2-3 and 7-8. The ethical extrapolation can be found in ‘Het proprium van Verdonk,’ in Vos and Van der Zwaard (eds.), Ongehoord, 15-28.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004360235_006

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When we take into account the dynamical history of the moral sense in different worlds over the centuries, we get a history of ethics that is quite different from the traditional one. We need a new profound history of ethics where Anselm, the Victorines and the great thinkers of the mendicant move­ments (including Scotus) play a major role. This complex history of ethics has not yet been written. In studies that are general overviews, ideas taken from ancient Greek and Hellenistic philosophies dominate the narrative, but the nature of Duns Scotus’ ethical thought is quite different from these systems. The tensions are there to be observed.3 Necessitarianism excludes biblical morality. Biblical morality (and in particular the New Testament way of life), patristic ethical thinking and the ethics of the Latin West deviate and emancipate themselves from ancient morality. It is a remarkable fact that the history of Western ethics possesses the alternative to necessitarianism. It is also a remarkable fact that the modern historical mind suppresses the majority consensus of the Middle Ages and behaves as if the minority opinion of the Aristotelians is the majority for the whole of Western ethical thinking. They focus on the influence of Thomism and neoThomism in later Europe­an thought. Indeed, it was the achievement of St. Thomas Aquinas that he managed, within a certain framework of thought, to solve what might be called the ‘selectivity’ problem of natural-law theory by grafting on to the Stoic principle of ‘Follow nature’ the Aristotelian concept of nature as a teleological system. [...] That phenomena are divided into natural kinds, that each natural kind is distinguished by the possessi­on of an essence, that the essence stipulates an end, that virtue and goodness are necessarily linked with the fulfillment of these ends – these are some of the assumptions behind St. Thomas’ lex naturae.4 Duns Scotus’ ethics and theory of will, however, is among the most pressing issues of his thought. The general suggestion exists that his theory of will and freedom is the distinctive foundation of his ethics. This is patently true. However, in this light the assumed paradoxes of contingency, will and freedom are seen as the foundation of his ethics. Many scholars consider the priority of 3 See Honnefelder’s important assessment of recent research on Scotus’ ethics in Honnefel­der et al. (eds.), Scotus. Metaphysics and Ethics, 24-30: ‘Ethik.’ Compare Wolter, ‘Scotus’s Ethics,’ in Karris (ed.), Wolter. Scotus and Ockham, 173-83, and Hannes de Graaf, De ethiek van een gekerstende levensorde, Utrecht 1964. 4 Wollheim, ‘Natural law,’ EP V (1967), 451-2.

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will over intellect to be the corner stone, responsible for an unbalanced system. According to this view, the freedom of the act of creation runs parallel to the role of freedom in constituting what is good. During a century of neoscholastic revival, the charge that only the will constitutes moral truth, has been repeated again and again. The charge is that Duns Scotus’ ethics is will-bound and that his concept of will yields to a logic of an arbitrary and irrational will. His ethics is taken to be arbitrary, based on an arbitrarily created world.5 However, an exact exposition of Scotus’ thought shows that qualifications like ‘voluntarism’ and ‘Scotism’ easily miss the point. Here, theory and life, head and heart point into the same direction. His scientific passion consists of truth and consistency. The whole of truth as he sees it, is anchored in basic propositions about God and these essential propositions about God are necessary. If true, it is impossible that they are false. On the same level, the basic truths of Duns’ ethics are to be located. Faith and logic (reason) hold out a hand to each other both in the necessary theory of divine properties and in necessary ethics, arising from the ideals of responsible and rational willing.6 This basic dimension solves the allegations of paradox and antinomy. Exploring Duns’ philosophical language points the way to consistent philosophy; exploring Duns’ theological language points the way to consistent theology. Ludger Honnefelder’s thesis in Scientia transcendens characterizes Duns’ ontology of contingency as the second start of the grand metaphysical tradition in the West.7 I not only subscribe to this main thesis of Kluxen and Honnefelder,8 but I also like to generalize this thesis into the view that Duns’ 5 On the Quintonian and Harrisian fallacies, see DPhil § 12.7. For the basis of Scotian ethics, see DPhil §§ 12.4-12.5. 6 Cf. Mary Beth Ingham, ‘Scotus’s Franciscan Identity and Ethics: Self-Mastery and the Rational Will,’ in Mary Beth Ingham and Oleg Bychkov (eds.), John Duns Scotus. Philosopher. Proceedings of ‘The Quadruple Congress’ on John Duns Scotus I, Munster 2010, 139-55. 7 Honnefelder, Scientia transcendens, XI-XII: ‘In zunehmendem Mass erwies sich vor allem seine Metaphysik als eine denkerische Leistung eigenen Ranges, die hinter der des Thomas nicht zurücksteht und die als der zweite grosse Entwurf bezeichnet werden muss, zu der die Auseinanderset­zung mit der aristotelisch-arabischen Metaphysik im 13./14. Jahrhundert führte. Deutlicher als zuvor wurde damit auch die Voraussetzung sichtbar für das Übergewicht, dass im Spätmittelalter nicht die thomistische, sondern die scotische Schule gewann, sei es in Form der mit Antonius Andreas, Franz von Mayronis u.a. beginnenden – oft epigonalen – Fortführung, sei es in Form der mit Wilhelm von Ockham einsetzenden kritischen Transformation.’ 8 See Kluxen, ‘Thomas von Aquin und die Philosophie,’ in Kluxen (ed.), Thomas von Aquin im philosophischen Gespräch, 221-8, and idem, ‘Die Originalität der skotischen Metaphysik. Eine typologische Betrachtung,’ Studia Scotistica VI 303-13.

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philosophy and theology constitute a new and consistent theoretical start of the grand tradition of philosophy and theology in the West. We eventually find an ethicist of freedom, contin­gency and love, but at the same time we are confronted with strict argumentations and axiomatic deductions. However, let us first throw a glance on Duns Scotus’ life to see which place his ethical writings take in his œuvre (§ 5.2). The main concepts of actus and praxis are explained in section § 5.3, and the main lines of the dilemma of natural law and the sabbath commandment are sketched in §§ 5.4 and 5.5. The interrelationship of virtues and beatitudes, the gifts and the fruits of the Spirit is discussed in § 5.6. The issue of lying is dealt with in § 5.7, and the issue of perjury in § 5.8. The phenomenon of bigamy indirectly elucidates the logic of monogamy (§ 5.9). In § 5.10 C.R.S. Harris’s two volumes on Duns Scotus (1927) are discussed. Final considerations are found in § 5.11. 5.2

Duns Scotus’ Ethical Writings

The Scottish student John Duns lived and worked in Oxford’s Franciscan studium for a couple of decades. In theologicis the Franciscan tradition preferred the genre of the commentary on the Sentences at that time, and not the genre of systematic handbook. For Duns, the academic year 1296-1297 was an additional year devoted to enriching his theological studies to compensate for the concessi­on exempting the mendicant students from the obligation to reign in the artes. In 1297 John Duns started to prepare his first course on the Sentences which he delivered during the academic year 1298-99, whereas he had began to work on his massive Ordinatio in the spring of 1300. As far as the Sententiae of Peter Lombard are concerned, ethics is mainly discussed in the second half of Book III where the commandments and the virtues are dealt with. In his first grand course on theology Duns did not say much on Book III and in Paris he had only finished Book I and the first chapters of Book II of the Ordinatio by the autumn of 1302. At the end of the twentieth century, only Lectura I-II, Ordinatio I-II 3 and the Quaestiones super libros Metaphysicorum Aristotelis had been critically edited, but all these beautiful volumes do not contain much ethics. Duns Scotus’ huge fame as a philosopher and systematic theologian is still not equalled by his fame as an ethicist, although in the meantime much has changed, since Allan Wolter’s Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality appeared.9 9

Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, Washington 1986. Wolter, ‘Scotus’s Ethics,’ in Karris (ed.), Wolter. Scotus and Ockham, 173-83, is in fact a fine introduction to this

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Now this major event is joined by the publication of Lectura III 18-40. The course based on Lectura I-II made Duns in a sense world-famous, because by its success he was brought to the attention of the international leadership of the Franciscan Order, but in spite of the splendid results of Lectura I-II we are still presented with a riddle. Was there a Lectura III, and a Lectura IV? However, even when he had to leave Paris on 25 June 1303 he had still not lectured on Sententiae III. Then he immediately addressed this lacuna in the autumn of 1303 by lecturing at Oxford University on Book III.10 Both Lectura I-II and Lectura III were never published in the Middle Ages and, with the exception of Oxford itself, they were almost forgotten in the course of the fourteenth century.11 The autographs were destroyed in the sixteenth century, but in the mid-1920s Carlo Balic rediscovered four codices which contain either Lectura I or Lectura II, or both, and he also rediscovered a text to be called Lectura III.12 One of the challenges of Scotist scholarship is to account for the enigmatic fact that two Oxonian Reportatio Parisiensis codices and a Polish manuscript have a second Sententiae III text which differs both from Reportatio Parisiensis III and from Ordinatio III. At the end of 2003, Opera Omnia XX: Lectura III 1-17 appeared in Rome, containing the christology of Duns, and at the beginning of 2004, Opera Omnia XXI: Lectura III 18-40 appeared, containing the second half of Book III, where, for the first time, Duns Scotus’ ethics is found in a critical edition. Lectura III is a natural and mature continuation of Lectura I-II and was writtten in Oxford during the second half of 1303, when John Duns spent the first half of his exile period in his home town. For these reasons, this Sententiae III Book by Duns

10 11 12

marvellous source book. Cf. Thro’s review of Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, in Manuscripta 31 (1987) 46-8. The Commissio Scotistica places Lectura III in the year 1303-04. See Opera Omnia XXI ix and 9*-10*, and DPhil 139: § 3.6.12 on Lectura Oxoniensis III. Cf. DPhil § 2.3.1. In medieval university Latin ‘lectura’ also means lecture notes (of a teacher: a bachelor or a master). The second Sententiae III text is found in the beautiful manuscript Codex 206, ff. 1r-104v, of the Library of Balliol College (B) and Codex 62, ff. 124r-228v, of the Library of Merton College (M) – both in Oxford. A third manu­script, Codex latinus 1408 of the Library of Cracow University (K), contains an incomplete text of Lectura III. The picture of Lectura III 36 is still quiet and elaborate. The distinctions 37-39 are much more sketchy and the last distinction 40 only consists of a series of notes. They would be revised tho­roughly in Ordinatio III. Ordinatio IV is based on Reportatio Parisiensis IV. Apparently, there was no Lectura IV. On the codices M, B and K, see Opera Omnia XXI 1*-3*, 3*-4* and 4*-7*, respectively. See § 1.5 and DPhil § 2.3.1.

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Scotus is to be labelled properly Lectura III.13 Luke Wadding’s seventeenthcentury edition of Duns Scotus’ Opera Omnia contains Reportata Parisiensia III 1-35. Wadding did not accept that Book III would only have the distinctions III 1-17. This part of Reportatia Parisiensia III is not spotless, but is still a workable version. Reportata Parisiensia III 1-17 is a reasonable text form. Reportata Parisiensia III 18-40 is a vulnerable text form. The distinctions Lectura Oxoniensis III 19-25 are most striking. They are immedi­ately carried over to Ordinatio III.14 The text of Wadding’s Opus Oxoniense III 19-25 is a reliable one. Ordinatio III is very important. At one point Balic believed that Ordinatio III originally ended with distinction 14, for some codices of the Ordinatio end with that distinction. However, Lottin proved that Ordinatio III 36 is indeed a revision of earlier lectures. ‘Until the Scotistic Commission, which is still busy with the second book, makes a thorough study of the problem and comes to some definitive conclusion, we may adopt the customary way of referring to the questions in dists. 15 to 40 as ‘supplements’ to Ordinatio III,’15 but this proposal is improbable. 5.3

Actus and praxis

What is good elevates us up and creates a stronger desire. We expect and desire something preferable if it is missing. What is better touches us more deeply and the best possible­ things touch­ us most deeply. The summum bonum and the bonum infinitum elevate us most and create and nurse a desire for what is good and what is infinitely good. Spirituality is the manger of Christian ethics. The source of general ethics is Christian ethics. Ethics is born from the transcendent, but modern ethics usually forgets its point of origin. In Scotian ethics, spirituality and reason flourish together, but Duns Scotus also starts from the beginning and works with a general notion of act or ‘action’ (actus): a ‘doing,’ a deed or what is generally done. An act (actus) is a ‘doing’ of a living creature – or of its Creator. Acts are divided in several ways. Acts which humans have in common with other living creatures are divided into two main groups:

13

14 15

Balic published some Christological and Mariological fragments in his Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 187-9, 223-35, 270-9 and 316-27, and some ethical chapters in his Les commentaires de Jean Duns Scot, 342-51. No explicit connection with the Oxonian Lectura is mentioned there. See § 1.5: ‘Oxford and Cambridge,’ and DS 56-7. Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 75.

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Acts of the generative or nutritive potencies not having an order directed toward an act of knowledge, are not practical, nor can they be posterior to an act of knowledge. And hence acts of the sense powers, be they cognitive or appetitive, are not practical since they precede acts of knowledge.16 The two main groups of the non-practical doings or deeds (actus non-practici) are: a) generatio and nutritio – they concern natural birth and the natural life that has to be nurtured, and b) apprehensio and appetitus: sense perception and the life of striving and desiring. Duns utilizes the way ‘doings’ are related to epistemic acts of the intellect when he distinguishes between non-practical and practical acts. Vegetative acts and acts of sensation are not based on acts of the intellect. Acts of the intellect are related to realities to be known, but epistemic acts can be completed without being involved in the life of action. We can acquire knowledge without doing anything with that knowledge.17 However, epistemic acts can also be related to strategies of action. We like to do something and to achieve something; and practical acts are based on epistemic acts, but do not coincide with them: A praxis is an act of another faculty than the intellect, which is structurally posterior to an act of knowledge, and is as such elicited in accord with a right act of knowing, if it is right.18 Why then is a praxis not an act of the intellect? A praxis is an act of another faculty than the intellect, since practical knowledge reaches out to it and does not just stay with itself.19

16

17 18 19

Lectura Prologus 135: ‘Actus potentiae generativae et nutritivae, non habentes ordinem ad actum intellectus, non sunt practici, nec possunt esse posteriores actu intellectus. Et ideo actus potentiae sensitivarum, tam apprehensivarum quam appetivarum, quia praecedunt, non sunt practici.’ Cf. Ordinatio Prologus 229. See Lectura Prologus 133: ‘Cognitio stans solum in intellectu est speculativa.’ Lectura Prologus 133: ‘Praxis est actus alterius potentiae quam intellectus, naturaliter posterior intellectione, natus elici conformiter intellectioni rectae, ad hoc quod sit recta.’ Lectura Prologus 134: ‘Praxis est actus alterius potentiae quam ipsius intellectus, quia cognitio practica extenditur ad illum, et non in se manet tantum.’ Cf. Ordinatio Prologus 227228, and Lectura Prologus 133 (note 19). See Möhle, Ethik als scientia practica, 21-30: ‘Der scotische Begriff der praxis.’

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The formal nature of a praxis is to be found primarily in an act of the will. An act or action is only a praxis by virtue of an act of the will. An act or action (praxis) is an act of willing.20 An act of knowing is not an act of willing and is not preceded as such by an act of willing. So, an act of knowing is not a praxis. If our knowledge does not focus on an action or praxis, but remains only in itself an act of knowing of the intellect, it is just theoretical knowledge (cognitio speculativa).21 An action surely presupposes acts of knowing. Because I will that my actions are correct and good, I will them to have been argued for very well and I am determined that I am able to account for them in a reasonable way. Ethics employs this connection between action (praxis) and practical knowledge. Ethics focuses on human will-based actions. An action is an act or deed which depends on what the intellect does and follows on what we know and it depends as such on a commanded or elicited act of willing. An action has to be ascribed primarily to the will and it has to be defended argumentatively and reasonably.22 Practical knowledge is related to human activity in a specific sense, for a human action or praxis is the object of an item of practical knowledge: If a praxis appears as something considered and intended by practical knowledge, then it has the character of an object, and consequently the disposition is called practical because of its object.23 The ethical defense of an action has two dimensions and just as theology does so in general, ethics also works according to the duality of necessity and contingency. The necessary center of reality is God so that his goodness is the heart of matters ethical. There are the necessity of God’s existence, his nature and his essential properties and the contingency of God’s acts of will and creative actions. The theological reflection follows these two tracks. Scientific theology 20 21 22

23

Lectura Prologus 137: ‘Si formalis ratio praxis est primo in actu voluntatis, omnes alii non erunt praxis nisi ratione actus voluntatis.’ See Lectura Prologus 133: ‘Cognitio practica extenditur ad praxim, quia cognitio stans solum in intellectu est speculativa.’ On Duns’ notions of action and practical knowledge, see Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 126-43 and 32-5. Cf. Krop, De status van de theologie, 217-66, Sondag, La théologie comme science pratique, 193-218 and 75-103, and Ingham in Ingham and Dreyer, The Philosophical Vision of John Duns Scotus, § 5.2: ‘The Science of Praxis’ (127-32) and § 7.2: ‘Prac­tical reasoning’ (186-91). Consult especially Möhle, Ethik als scientia practica. Lectura Prologus 148: ‘Si ut considerata et intenta, sic habet rationem obiecti, et per consequens habitus dicetur practicus ab obiecto.’ See Ingham, ‘Practical wisdom,’ in Honnefelder et al. (eds.), Scotus. Metaphysics and Ethics, 555-8.

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needs these two legs of necessary and contingent theology and we can only walk by two legs.24 For Duns Scotus, limitation and openness are to be located in the necessary pole of the methodical ellipse. It is the viewpont of natural law (de lege naturae), but what does Duns Scotus mean by ‘law of nature’ or ‘natural law’? 5.4

Kinds of Laws

Duns’ use of the term ‘naturalis’ is a complicated one, but within the ethical context ‘naturalis’ has a strict logical-analytical content: A truth is naturally known, if­ eventually its necessity can be reduced to premises that are true on account of an analysis of its own terms. It is a truth based on a ratio naturalis and a natural argument rests on deductive necessity and the notion of selfevident truth (per se notum).25 Duns’ approach to the notion of natural law follows the necessity-contingency distinction and rests on the rockbottom of Duns Scotus’ conceptual and theoretical methodology: What is known on account of the terms used, is structurally (naturaliter) known before any act of will (volition).26 The basic distinction runs between what is necessary and what is not necessary (contingent) and what can be derived from it. This basis provides for a clear answer to question asking what belongs to the law of nature: We may say that some truths belong to the law of nature (de lege naturae) as what follows from its own principles. Such truths belong to natural law even if there were to be no intellect, nor will.27

24 25

26 27

On necessary and contingent theology, see Möhle, Ethik als scientia practica, 118-42, Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, chapter 1, and DPhil 438-40. For the notion of a ratio naturalis, or a natural argument, see DPhil 337-40 and 575-6. See also A. Huning, ‘Per se notum,’ in Joachim Ritter † and Karlfried Gründer (eds.), Historisches Wörterbuch der Philosophie, Basel 1989, 262-5. Lectura III 37.12: ‘Quae sunt nota ex terminis, sunt naturaliter nota ante omnem actum voluntatis.’ See DPhil §§ 12.3-12.4. Cf. Möhle, Ethik als scientia practica, 330-67. Lectura III 37.15: ‘Potest autem dici quod aliqua sunt de lege naturae ut sequentia ex propriis principiis; talia autem, etsi nullus intellectus nec voluntas esset, sunt de lege naturae.’

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Ordinatio IV 17 contains an excellent excursus on natural law and positive divine law, where the sacrament of penance is dealt with.28 Ordinatio IV 17.3 offers a more elaborated expression of this main idea: That (namely, what is naturally right) is a practical truth of natural law, if its truth is known on account of its terms – and in that case it is a principle of natural law, just as also a theore­tical principle is known on account of its terms –, or if it follows evidently from such a truth which is known in this way: such a truth is a practical thesis which has been demonstrated. The foundation of ethics is found in what we may call necessary ethics, just as Duns distinguishes between necessary theology and contingent theology. The basic level consists of the principles or the axioms of ethics and the next level contains the ethical theses to be derived necessarily from them. Necessary ethics is ethics containing necessary truths. In a typically Scotian fashion, necessary truth and will are connected. What is necessarily true, is true even if there were to be no will. The starting point of this analysis is precisely found on the level of necessary propositions. Talk of after (post) an act of will presupposes that talk of before (ante) an act of will is indispensable, since the truth-value of a necessary proposition is not will-based: Their truth does not depend on the act of the will and they would have been known by God’s intellect, if God were not to be a willing God – although that is impossible.29 In Ordinatio IV 17.18, corpus articuli, Duns Scotus lists four kinds of law: […] were it not a natural right, or a positive right, either positive divine right or positive church right.30 First, we have to consider the abstract contents of fundamental, strict natural law, and, thereafter, two kinds of natural law. Natural law in the strict sense comprises both ethical axioms and ethical theses to be derived from 28 29 30

See § 9.5. The main question runs whether there is an obligation to confess to a priest. Ordinatio I 39.23: ‘Eorum veritas non dependet ab illo actu et essent cognita ab intellectu, si – per impossibile – non esset volens.’ Ordinatio IV 17.18: ‘[…] nisi vel iuris naturalis, vel iuris positive, et hoc vel divini vel ecclesiastici.’ For the text, see also Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 262.

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these axioms. The first level of necessarily true propositions in ethics consists of necessary propositions which are self-evidently known. In practical matters first principles are also known on account of their terms, just as is the case in theoretical matters.31 There is also a perfectly clear formulation of his theory to be found in Ordinatio IV 17.19: That (namely, what is naturally right) is a practical truth of natural law, if its truth is known on account of its terms – and in that case it is a principle of natural law, just as also a theore­tical principle is known on account of its terms –, or if it follows evidently from such a truth which is known in this way: then, that is a practical thesis which has been demonstrated.32 Items of basic ethical truth are self-evident ethical truths and they are indicated by the traditional term ‘natural law,’ but the term gained a magnificent new meaning – new wine in old wineskins, just as the method of an auctoritates culture practices it. Of course, what can be derived from the ethically necessary principles is itself also part of natural law in its strict sense, as Duns explicitly states in Ordinatio IV 17.19: Strictly speaking, only a principle or a thesis which has been demonstrated in this way belongs to the law of nature.33 In sum, what belongs to natural law in its strict sense comprises the axioms of ethics and what necessarily follows from the axioms. Such derivable propositions are also necessarily true, since they are necessarily deduced from necessary propositions. In addition to the two dimensions of natural law in its strict sense Duns also distinguishes between two kinds of natural law: natural law in the strict sense 31

32

33

See Lectura III 37.6: ‘In operabilibus sunt aliqua prima principia nota ex terminis, sicut in speculabilibus, et illa sunt seminaria legis naturae.’ Cf. Ordinatio III 37.6 (Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 272). Ordinatio IV 17.19: ‘Illud (sc. ius naturale) autem est verum practicum de iure naturale cuius veritas est nota ex terminis, et tunc est principium in lege naturae, sicut et in speculabilibus principium notum est ex terminis sive quod sequitur evidenter ex tali vero sic noto, cuiusmodi est conclusio practica demonstrata.’ For the text, see also Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 262. For the notions of self-evident propositions and theses that can be derived from them, see DPhil 308-11 and 339-44. Ordinatio IV 17.19: ‘Et stricte loquendo, nihil aliud est de lege naturae nisi principium vel conclusio demon­strata.’

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and natural law in a wider, or broader, sense. In Ordinatio IV 17.19 Duns Scotus continues as follows: Nevertheless, sometimes something is said to belong to the law of nature in an extended sense, if it is a practical truth that is in harmony with the principles and theses of the law of nature as far as it is instantly known to everyone that it is consistent with such a law.34 Thus, Duns distinguishes between two kinds of natural law: natural law in the strict sense (example: love your neighbor) and natural law in a wider sense (example: the Sabbath commandment). However, there is still law which is neither natural law in the strict sense, nor natural law in its broader or wider sense. Whatever Scripture contains for the time when it ought to be observed, and yet is not known on account of its terms, nor directly evidently in harmony with such truths, is purely divine positive law. Such are all the ceremonies of the Jews for the time of their law and the ceremonies of the Christians for the time of our law.35 The difference between natural law in the strict and in the broad sense, on the one hand, and the rites and rituals and ceremonies, on the other hand, is evident: This is also evident: whatever belongs to the law of nature, either in its proper sense or in the broad sense, is always uniform. These ceremonies are not so, for they were different for the period of another law.36

34

35

36

Ordinatio IV 17.19: ‘Tamen extendendo quandoque illud dicitur esse de lege naturae quod est verum practicum consonum principiis et conclusionibus legis naturae in tantum quod statim notum est omnibus illud convenire tali legi.’ Ordinatio IV 17.20: ‘Quaecumque enim continentur in Sciptura pro tempore pro quo sunt observanda et tamen non sunt nota ex terminis nec demonstrabilia ex talibus notis, nec statim evidenter consona talibis veris, sunt mere de iure positive divino. Cuiusmodi sunt omnes caeremoniae Iudaeorum pro tempore illius legis, et christianorum pro tempore legis nostrae.’ For the text, see also Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 262 and 264. Ordinatio IV 17.20: ‘Hoc etiam patet, quia illa quae sunt de lege naturae sive proprie sive extensive, semper sunt uniformia; non sic istae caeremoniae, quae erant aliae pro tempore alterius legis.’ For this text, see also Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 264.

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Again, divine law is twofold: natural law in the wider sense and positive divine law, and, again, positive law is twofold: positive divine law and positive church law. Now, we have arrived at this last kind of law: church law, for we have already considered the twofold content of natural law, two kinds of natural law and positive divine law. The third member [of law] is also evident, because in addition to positive divine law which is contained in God’s Scripture, the Church establishes many things both because of more sincere moral observance and because of greater reverence in receiving and administering the sacraments.37 On the basis of all this Duns Scotus criticizes the notion of natural law we find with Gratianus who believes that all that is present in the Scripture of the Old and New Testament belongs to the natural law.38 Why can this not be true according to John Duns? The practical truths of Scripture are not of one level, because they function in different ways: Not all those truths are practical principles that are known on account of their terms, nor practical theses which have been demonstrated, nor truths which are evidently in harmony with such principles and theses.39 On the one hand, there are practical truths which belong to the law of nature in its strict and narrow sense, but, on the other hand, other practical truths do not belong to the law of nature, neither in its strict sense, nor in an extended and wider sense: 37

38 39

Ordinatio IV 17.21: ‘Tertium membrum patet, quia ultra ius positivum divinum quod continetur in Scriptura divina, Ecclesia multa statuit et propter observantiam honestiorem in moribus et propter reverentiam maiorem in suscipiendis et dispensandis sacramentis.’ For this text, see also Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 264. According to Duns’ row the first member is natural law, and the second member positive divine law. Ordinatio IV 17.19: ‘Omnia quae quae sunt in Scriptura veteris vel novi testament esse de lege naturae.’ For this text, see also Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 262. Ordinatio IV 17.19: ‘Nec omnia illa sunt principia practica nota ex terminis, nec conclusiones practicae demonstratae, nec vera evidenter consona talibus principiis et conclusionibus.’

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In this sense the Decalogue is not part and parcel of natural law. Such practical truths rest on a correct will and do not belong to natural law. However, other practical truths belong to natural law, since they are in full harmony with the law of nature, for they are compatible with the first practical principles, although they do not necessarily follow from them.40 5.5

The Sabbath Commandment

Duns Scotus’ ethics is truly will-based thought, but not in the sense that its first principle are will-based, for it functions within a whole web of necessarily true propositions. This structure implies that the latitude of the will is itself determined. The specific role of the will itself is indispensable on the basis of what is necessarily true. Whose intellect grasps the terms of these principles, grasps their virtue and truth.41 It is crucial to see that according to this approach theological knowledge does not fall apart into two areas. Knowledge of necessary truths about what is necessary and knowledge of contingent truths about what is contingent are intertwined and these two dimensions of theological knowledge presuppose each other: I say that there are necessary truths which concern contingent propositions, because A stone falls downwards is contingent, but nevertheless necessary truths apply to its fall, for example: It strives towards the center, and It falls in a straight line. In the same way, I love God is contingent and still a necessary truth can apply, for example, I ought to love God above anything else. This thesis can be proved as follows: God is that than which nothing greater can be thought. Therefo­re: He ought to be loved supremely. Therefore, I ought to love Him supremely. So, according to this pattern I can have scientific knowledge of contingent propositi­ons. This knowledge really concerns the contingent content of the primary object of knowledge, although its content is in that case not primary. Still, it is 40

41

Lectura III 37.15: ‘Potest autem dici quod aliqua sunt de lege naturae ut sequentia ex propriis principiis; talia autem, etsi nullus intellectus nec voluntas esset, sunt de lege naturae. Et sic non est Decalogus de lege naturae. Quae autem sunt ex voluntate recta, non de lege naturae, sed alia sunt de lege naturae, quia sunt bene consona cum lege naturae, quia stant cum principiis primis practicis.’ See Lectura III 37.12: ‘Circumscripto omni actu voluntatis, cum intellectus Dei apprehen­ dat terminos illorum principiorum, apprehendit virtutem illorum et rectitudinem ante actum voluntatis. Igitur vel voluntas necessario vult hoc, si est recta. Cum intellectus dicit illud esse rectum, vel erit non recta, si discordet.’

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about necessary truths which can be concluded with respect to contingent propositi­ons.42 The sabbath commandment presents the illustrious example of a contingent ethical truth. The issue of the ontological status of the commandments of the Decalogue has been often answered in the sense that the Decalogue belongs to or embodies the law of nature. Thomas Aquinas considers them to be necessary truths, whereas Duns Scotus’ answer is a negative one.43 The relevant decision must be made and accordin­gly is only made in agreement with the best possible will. This basic point can be appropriately illustrated with the sabbath commandment. There is no intrinsic element of a particular day, which entails the sanctification of that particular day. This particular choice must be made by divine revelation as, according to Duns Scotus, the Bible as document of revelation tells us. Even the point that the parallel issue in Christian ethics is the sanctification of the Sunday offers a clarifying point in case. The commandment to celebrate the sabbath would be an ethical truth which could not be altered or varied, if keeping the sabbath were truly to be a component of the law of nature. Neither could it be revocated. It would be immutable and necessary. The decisive point in Duns Scotus’ approach is that we have to pay attention to the key terms of the commandment itsef, like ‘God,’ ‘to create,’ ‘to sanctify,’ ‘sabbath,’ ‘day,’ and ‘the seventh day,’ and so on. If the sabbath commandment were truly part and parcel of natural law, the ethical truth of the commandment could be be derived from these key terms. The point would not be the blessing and beneficial nature of periodical rest before the face of God, but the ethical value of the sabbath would be an intrinsic property of the seventh day of a week of seven days as such, intrinsically linked with the nature of God. Even a week of seven days would be a necessary ethical truth and other arrangements would be as such immoral and unnatural, but such an approach is incompatible with the facts of the history of holy days. 42

43

Lectura Prologus 172: ‘Dico quod de contingentibus sunt veritates necessariae, quia contingens est lapidem descendere et tamen de descensu eius sunt veritates necessariae, ut quod appetit centrum et quod descendit secundum lineam rectam. Similiter, me diligere Deum est contingens, et tamen de hoc potest esse veritas necessaria, ut quod debeam Deum diligere super omnia. Et hoc demonstrative potest concludi sic: “Deus est quo maius cogitari non potest.” Igitur, est summe diligibilis; igitur, summe debeo eum diligere. Et sic secundum hoc possum habere scientiam de contingentibus.’ See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 22-3 and 35-7, cf. 32-5, and DPhil 438-40. See Lectura III 37.15. Cf. Codex 206 (Balliol College) 102v.

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The fact that Thomas Aquinas and John Duns Scotus support quite different approaches to the Decalogue, does not entail that they subscribe to different methodological frameworks: both of them work within a duality of axiomatic proposi­tions and theses to be derived from them or from other theses (conclusiones).44 The indicator natural law is understandably given by Aquinas to the universal practical principles, functioning analoguously to the theoretical principles. Both realms show powerful cohesion, as Thomas Williams observes: In fact I think it is a mistake to describe his theory of virtue as any more or less central than his accounts of happi­ness, the natural law, practical reasoning, and responsible action. Aquinas’s ethics is so thoroughly systematic that one cannot adequately understand any of these accounts without drawing heavily on all the others.45 Within the whole of his coherent world of thinking, Thomas Aquinas clearly identifies both the first theoretical principle and the first practical principle: the absolutely first theoretical principle is the principle of non-contradiction, and the first practical principle states that good has to be pursued and evil has to be avoided. The agreements and the differences between both ethical designs are striking. The impact of the same methodological framework is with Duns quite different from what it does with Aquinas. In fact, the logical basement of Aquinas’ first principles is rather empty and the principle of non-contradiction how vital it may be, is not a first principle at all. If we drop it, we can derive all possible truths and untruths from any contradiction, but in itself it only leads us to truth in the cases of necessary propositi­ons, but not if contingent propositions are at stake. Cohesion works in necessitaria­nism quite differently from what it does in contingency thought. Powerful cohesion can also be a deadly weapon: if one vital bulwark falls, all bulwarks fall. Again and again, we have to observe that Duns Scotus’ model of contingency is the pivot on which everything hinges, positively and negatively, for it 44

45

See Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I-II 90.1 ad 2: ‘In theoretical argumentations, what comes first is the definition, then the proposition, and the syllogism or argument. Since practical argumentation also makes use of a syllogism of sorts having to do with possible actions, we need to find something in practical argumentation that bears to actions the same relation that the proposition in theoretical argumentation bears to theses. Such universal propositions of practical argumentation ordered to actions have the character of law.’ Williams in Atkins and Williams (eds.), Thomas Aquinas. Disputed Questions on the Virtues, x-xi.

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is the basis of the distinctive roles of knowledge and will.46 It is his insight that a contingent ethical value cannot be deduced from the character of the involved phenomenon, for instance, the preference and the order of a certain holy day cannot be derived from calendar truths and theological insights. There are many precious values and beneficiary measures which are not intrinsically linked to empirical data. Splendor of theological and ethical oughts is not necessarily embodied in empirical and historical facts. There is open moral space and, from the divine perspective, the ethical space offered by necessary truth and essential properties has to be utilized and filled in by good solutions. If God fills contingent space in one way or another, then acting in harmony with this filling it is good. Both positivism in regard to revelation and relativism and skepticism concer­ning revelation are superfluous options. 5.6

The Virtue of Being Human

Plato’s works did not play a major role in medieval thought, but although Aristotle’s texts in Latin translations did play a major role, it is still misleading to characterize medieval philosophy as a form of Aristotelianism. To the modern mind, this situation may seem rather complex, because medieval thought cannot be understood and explained without taking into account Aristotle’s works and thought. Perhaps the theological parallel can afford some help. Creative medieval thought is basically theological thinking and this theology is definitely Christian, but in spite of the major role of the Bible we still cannot say that this theology can be deduced or at least induced from the Bible. This theology is a development of the biblical kerygma in a specifically articulated form. It understands itself as the biblical content, but although it rests on the Bible, it cannot be identified with the Bible. It reads itself into the Bible, but the nature of the historical connection in itself yields issues which have to be solved independently.47 In an analogous way, the nature of the historical connection between Aristotle’s thought and the philosophy of a medieval thinker has to be

46

47

Compare Klein, ‘Zur Sittenlehre des Joh. Duns Skotus,’ Franziskanische Studien 1 (1914) 401 ff., and idem, ‘Intellekt und Wille als die nächsten Quellen der sittlichen Akte nach Johannes Duns Skotus,’ Franziskanische Studien 3 (1916) 309 ff., 6 (1919) 108 ff., 231 ff. and 295 ff., and 7 (1920) 118 ff. and 179 ff., and 8 (1921). They can be solved independently, but this task has to be performed by the co-operation of historical and systematic ethics.

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approached and solved independently. The fact that it seems to rest on texts of Aristotle does not tell much in itself about the real connection. At any rate, Duns Scotus’ ethics and theory of the virtues is not a kind of Aristotelian ethics, although we fraternally meet the well-known cardinal virtues of wisdom or prudence, courage or fortitude, justice and temporance. When we discover how the main structure is constituted by necessary truths, we realize that in a sense such an ethical approach rests on itself. It rests on its core, the heart of the ethical matter: the presence of God who is love himself, articulated by a web of necessary truths. So, the heart of the ethical matter is elaborated on in a way of thinking which is consistency-based.48 The contents of Duns Scotus’ ethics offer an alternative to ancient ethics. The theory of contingency functions as its ontological framework. Futhermore, the Anselmian distinction between something good that is pleasant for us (bonum commodi) and something good that is good as such (bonum iustitiae) is decisive. At the first level we start from what we want and is good in the sense that it serves the continuity of our existence and our welfare. It is the level of our grub and our bub where what is missing is filled in and completed (perfectus). At the second level, we are ‘outgoing’ and directed to the other and fascinated by what is different, since it is good in itself and we appreciate and love it because of itself, and not because it serves and benefits us. We do not will it for ourselves or on behalf of ourselves, but altruistically. The other and the others, and what is different, are central.49 Duns Scotus connects these main lines with the core of his anthropology: the activities of a person turn around the central faculties of knowing and willing.50 The question: Why are you doing so and so? asks for an answer in terms of knowledge and will. We have to know something and we have to will something. This implies again that we will that we have knowledge and that we know what we will. The possibilities of our knowing and willing can be actualized in two ways: We can conquer what is good and solid in life (acquired or obtained virtues), or it can be given to us (given or infused virtues). Such are the ingredients of Duns Scotus’ existential analysis of what virtues are and have to offer.51

48 49 50 51

See DPhil chapter 6. Cf. Cervellon, ‘L’affection de justice chez Duns Scot,’ in Boulnois, Karger, Solère and Sondag (eds.), Duns Scot à Paris, 425-68. See § 5.5. On the coherence of virtues see DPhil 440-62; on moral virtues, cf. Ingham in Ingham and Dreyer, The Philosophical Vision of John Duns Scotus, 175-86 and 191-200.

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Duns Scotus’ time knows several kinds of reflections on virtues, gifts, beatitudes and fruits of the Spirit. Thus the question arises in Lectura III 34 whether the seven gifts and the eight beatitudes (beatitudines) and the twelve fruits of the Spirit are acts which must be distinguished from each other. The theme of the seven gifts (dona) dates back to the Septuagint variant of Isaiah 11:2, where Wolter reads: a spirit of wisdom and of understanding, a spirit of counsel and of fortitude, a spirit of knowledge and of fear of the Lord.52 This translation is Latin-based and derives from the Vulgate, but the Hebrew text reads as a series of the qualifications of the promised Branch from Jesse: ‘The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him: the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and power, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord’ (Isaiah 11:2). The Latin has no article and, thus, this passage is not read as a series of qualifications of the promised one, but as a list of seven gifts due to the working of the Holy Spirit. Moreover, the Septuagint and the Vulgate add piety or godliness (pietas) as a seventh gift to the group of six: 1. wisdom (sapientia), 3. counsel (consilium or consiliatio), 5. knowledge (scientia), 7. piety or godliness (pietas).

2. intellect (intellectus), 4. power (fortitudo), 6. fear of the Lord (timor Dei),

The beatitudes, of course, date back to the eight beatitudes of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5:3-10: 1. poverty of spirit (paupertas spiritus), 2. mourning (qui lugent), 3. meekness (mites), 4. hunger and thirst for justice (iustitia), 5. mercy (misericordia), 6. purity (mundo corde), 7. peace-making (pacifici), 8. suffering (persecuti). The nine fruits of the Spirit are mentioned in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians 5:22: The fruits of the Spirit are: 1. love (caritas), 2. joy 3. peace (pax), 1. love (caritas), 2. joy(gaudium), (gaudium), 3. peace (pax), 4. leniency (longanimitas), 5. kindness (benignitas), 6. goodness 6. goodness (bonitas), 4. leniency (longanimitas), 5. kindness (benignitas), (bonitas), 7. faith (fides), 8. gentleness (mansuetudo), 9. selfcon­ (continen­ 7. faith (fides), 8. gentleness (mansuetudo), 9. selfcon­ troltrol (continen­ tia). tia). 52

Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 78-9.

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Of course, Duns reads his Vulgate and so we meet twelve fruits: 10. patience (patientia), 11. modesty (modestia), 12. chastity (castitas). The early theologians, following Gregory the Great, did not make real distincti­ ons between the virtues, gifts, beatitudes, and fruits. However, around 1230 Philip the Chancellor considered the gifts as distinct from and superior to the virtues in his Summa de bono. He was followed by many theologians and, among others, also by Thomas Aquinas who writes in Summa Theologiae II-II 68.1: Now it is manifest that human virtues perfect man insofar as it is natural for him to be moved by his reason in his interior and exterior actions. Consequently, man needs yet higher perfections if he is to be disposed to be moved by God. These perfections are called gifts.53 In Lectura III 34 the kinds of happiness (beatitudo) mentioned in Matthew 5 are already structured in the same way as in Ordinatio III 34. According to Duns Scotus, the beatitudes are entirely related to the human will, for the intellectual virtues of deliberate prudence and faith are not identified with any beatitude. An extension of the moral virtues is needed in order to give a proper place to the eight beatitudes: 1. Justice (iustitia): 1.1 benevolence (liberalitas), 1.2 rule (praesidentia), 1.3 friendship (amicitia). 2. Temporance (temperantia): 2.1 humility (humilitas), 2.2 temporance (temperantia). 3. Power (fortitudo). Of course, the theological virtues of hope and love have still to be added to them. The virtue of justice puts the other – our neighbor – in the center. Duns finds again this aspect of justice in three ways in the beatitudes: The joy over the other who is our neighbor, is expressed in the freedom and benevolence which is called misericor­dia by our Savior. The justice of rule and governing (praesidentia) is practiced by the peace-makers (pacifici). Justice in the sense

53

A fine introduction to Aquinas on virtues is Atkins and Williams (eds.), Aquinas. Disputed Questions on the Virtues.

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of being touched by the other is to be found in the friendship of them who are meek. Augustine had already identified the poverty of spirit with humility (humili­ tas) and Duns follows him. According to Duns, the humilitas, the moderation of honor and the moderation of pleasure, is present with those who are pure in heart. Finally, Scotus’ interpretation of courage deviates maximally from Aristotle’s views. True courage is embodied in the life of them who suffer from persecution and persevere in spite of it. However, the most profound tones are sung in Duns’ interpretation of hope, and love and charity. The hope is the virtue of those who mourn (Matthew 5:4) and love of charity as cari-tas (that is to say: being dear and precious for) is the virtue of those who hunger and thirst for justice (Matthew 5:6). Complete human existence is the life of the will directed to God, to the neigbor and, to ourselves. We have already seen that we not only find the beatitudes in the Bible, but also the gifts (dona) of the Spirit. In Isaiah 11:2 we read about the spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the spirit of counsel and power, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord. Duns sticks to the same method: no duplication or multiplication, but structuring based on in-depth inquiries.54 The outline looks as follows: 1. Consilium 2. Pietas 3. Fortitudo 4. Timor 5. Sapientia 6. Intellectus 7. Scientia

(counsel (3)) – prudentia (godliness (7)) – iustitia (power (4)) – fortitudo (humilitas (6)) – temperantia (wisdom (1)) – caritas (intellect (2)) } – fides.  – fides (knowledge 5)) }

}

In Galatians 5:22 Paul offers his famous enumeration of the fruits of the Spirit: 1. caritas, 2. gaudium, 3. pax, 4. longanimitas, 5. benignitas, 6. bonitas, 7. fides, 8. mansuetudo, and 9. continentia. The Vulgate still adds three fruits to this list: 10. patientia, 11. modestia, and 12. castitas. Duns Scotus’ way out is that he extends pax (3) with patientia (10), fides (7) with modestia (11), and continentia (9) with castitas (12). These twelve fruits are analyzed in terms of the properties in which the theological virtues and the moral virtues bear fruit. The main virtues deliver the framework. Every fruit of the Spirit is distinctly connected

54

Cf. the summary in Lectura III 34.46: ‘Ideo ad quaestionem patet quod virtutes, beatitudi­ nes et dona omnia non sunt habitus distincti realiter, sed explicantur.’

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with a principal virtue or with the whole of them.55 The outline of the twelve fruits of the Spirit looks as follows:  1. Caritas  2. Gaudium  3. Pax  4. Longanimitas  5. Benignitas  6. Bonitas  7. Fides  8. Mansuetudo  9. Continentia 10. Patientia 11. Modestia 12. Castitas

(love, charity) (joy) (peace) (leniency) (kindness) (goodness) (faith(fulness)) (mercy) (self-control) (patience) (modesty) (chastity)

– caritas – fruit of all virtues – fruit of all virtues – spes56 – iustitia (amicitia) – iustitia (liberalitas)57 – fides – iustitia (misericordia) – temperantia imperfecta – fortitudo – prudentia – temperantia perfecta

We have seen that Duns Scotus’ time knows several kinds of reflections on virtues, gifts, beatitudes and fruits of the Spirit. Duns strictly reduces these many approaches to one distinct and simple structure. The razor Scoti which is usually called the razor of Ockham, is fully at work. Dozens of entities are brought within one main structure – the structure of seven virtues. These seven virtues are to be divided into two main groups: four cardinal virtues and three theological virtues. The source of the first group, of course, is Aristotle’s ethics and the source of the second one is I Corinthians 13:13. The first group contains one intellectual virtue and three moral virtues. Thus we get the following series: 1. one intellectual virtue: prudence (prudenti­a), 2. three moral virtues (justice, temporance and power), and 3. three theological virtues (faith, hope and love). This list is not an arbitrary one. Duns’ existential analysis structures its members in the following way: 1. We are gifted with intellect and will. There are the obtained virtues of the intellect: prudence (prudentia) as going on in a rational and deliberate way, 55

56

57

Lectura III 34.44-45: ‘Ideo hic habemus quattuor virtutes cardinales et tres theologicas. (45) Sequuntur gaudium et pax; istae virtutes sunt fructus: sequitur enim gaudium esse actum virtutis et pax.’ Lectura III 34 immediately mentions both longanimitas and spes. In Ordinatio III 34 Scotus has become aware that spes is not mentioned in Galatians 5:22. Such corrections make also clear that Ordinatio III is later than Lectura III. The Anselmian line of thought is clearly present here.

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and faith. Moreover, there are the virtues of the will: the three moral virtues and hope and love. 2. There is also the principle of obtaining: practice makes perfect. Now we have listed the four cardinal virtues and the three theological virtues which have to be seen as gifts. Our area of acting is qualified by the presence of the Other and the other, our neighbor.58 If we act cognitively and rationally with a view of the other, we enjoy prudentia (deliberate insight). If we act rationally with a view of the Other, we have faith.59 If we act when our will is directed to God with a view of ourselves, then we have hope. If we act when our will is directed to God with a view of God because of himself, then we have love. If we act willing with a view of the other because of herself or himself, we have justice. If we act by our will reaching out to the other with a view of oursel­ves, then we have virtue x without possessing an adequate term, but temperantia (temporance) and fortitudo (power) are the two principal kinds. In the first case what we can desire (concupiscibile) matters and in the second case what we avert from (irascibile) matters. The first elicits our desire and the second our ira, traditionally translated as ire, but it boils down to intuitively turning away. During the last phase of his life Duns Scotus busied himself very much with ethics, law, and political philosophy. His theory of virtues is a phenomenology of existential functions. The question which arises is how they are filled in theologically. They are theologically filled in on the basis of God’s love which we ought to love on our turn.60 Duns does not apply a method of duplication at his doctrine of the gifts, the fruits of the Holy Spirit, but all these vitues are interrelated within one ethical space. There is no duplex ordo of nature and super nature. The reality of the gifts and the fruits of the Spirit, and the beatitudes fills the dimension of our nature.

58

59 60

Lectura III 34.24: ‘Dico igitur ad quaestionem quod in habitibus sunt genera intermedia, quae possunt dividi in species, ut habitus intellectivus dividitur in scientiam, etc. Sic habitus appetitivus est genus intermedium. Et prima divisione a parte appetitivi dividitur in habitum voluntatis et habitum appetitus sensitivi. A parte vero obiecti primo dividitur quod habitus ordinat ad alterum vel ad se.’ Cf. Codex 206 (Balliol College) 96r. My analysis mainly follows the more elaborate text of Ordinatio III 34: see Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 352 and 354. See Klein, ‘Der Glaube nach der Lehre des Johannes Duns Skotus,’ Franziskanische Studien 12 (1925) 184 ff. See Herbert Schneider, Primat der Liebe nach Johannes Duns Scotus, Mönchengladbach 2006.

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5.7

Lying

In Lectura III 38, Duns Scotus simply rehearses the common view that every lie is a sin and Augustine had already put forward a strong common sense argument: we all must believe many others, but if they lie, since they think that it is allowed to do so, we have to face an awkward situation. Believing and trusting such persons would be foolish, but how can we avoid believing and trusting others? However, if every lie necessarily is a sin, lying cannot be dispensed from. Then, to forbid lying rests on a necessary ethical truth. If this is the case, then the pious lies of the Old Testament cannot be explained away and both Lectura III 38 and Ordinatio III 38 present long lists: Abraham, Jacob, Rachael, Joseph, Rahab, David, Jehu, Judith, and so on. Such moral issues to be found in the Old Testament have several levels and they cannot be tackled adequately without modern exegetical and historical methods – although they are generally skipped in modern literature on the Old Testament –, but, of course, these avenues were not available in medieval times. At any rate, Duns Scotus optimally utilizes his systematic jumping-pole in order to jump as far as possible. The first part of Ordinatio III 38 which is much more elaborate and thorough than Lectura III 38, is rather close to Bonaventure’s Scriptum III 38. Although all Christian thinkers are against telling lies, they defend this view in various ways. Duns Scotus also considers several options. There is the view that lying is necessarily wrong, since it hurts the veracity of Him who is the Truth (Lectura III 38.9-10), but this view is rejected by Scotus. He pays special attention to a theory defended, among others, by Thomas Aquinas that lying is intrinsically immoral. This view enjoyed considerable popularity before and had already been discussed by Bonaventure. We can understand Thomas Aquinas’ stance, because he tended to count all precepts of the first and second tables of the Decalogue as ingredients of the law of nature. According to this essentialist approach, lying is intrinsically immoral, since the primary morality of an act stems from its object and the object of telling something is telling the truth in a reliable way. To tell something has to be telling what is true. So lying is in a sense inconsistent telling. The conclusion is that telling the truth embodies a necessary ethical truth God cannot dispense from. However, ‘Bonaventure disagreed with this, as indicated by his cryptic remark about how one could do something otherwise bad for a good intention provided God gave a dispensation from those commandments that regard obligations to one’s neighbor. Scotus agrees substantially with his position.’61 61

Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 108.

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Bonaventure held the view that the malice of lying principally lies in the bad intention one has in not telling the truth, since a lie is intended to deceive. So bad intention and bad will are essential to lying. According to Duns Scotus, an act is categorically a bad act, if it is performed by a bad intention. Lying is necessarily accompanied by the intention to deceive and such an intention is necessarily inordinate. Therefore, the intention to lie must be somet­hing wrong.62 An act which is based on bad will is a bad act. Ordinatio III 38 adds a further exposition. ‘Lie’ is a word like ‘adultery’ and ‘theft:’ it does not signify either the act or its impropriety, but it signifies the whole combination of an action accompanied by its ethical qualification and the entire action is not bad in itself. The malice is not to be located in the positive act as such. The involvement of other willing persons makes that the act under consideration is unacceptable. It does not seem that such combinations signified by such nouns can be good. However, it is possible for the underlying act to exist without such a deformity, for instance, the act of intercourse or that of appropriating such a thing. Such is the case here.63 The indicated pattern applies in the case of lying. The utterance of the words of a lie can be sinless. A Greek can utter a Latin sentence which is false, without committing a sin. We see that Duns defends the possible acceptance of a ‘lie’ on theoretical grounds. The basic utterance enjoying ‘illocutionary force’ – a phrase borrowed from John Austin – can be sinless, although the ‘perlocutionary force’ involves as such a sin, for to utter them knowing the opposite to be the case, and hence with the intention of deceiving, cannot occur without sin, since it entails that

62

63

See Lectura III 38.14: ‘Ubi est actus malus ex genere, ut qui dicit intentione mala, non potest dispensari, quia igitur “mentiri est cum intentione fallendi” necessario, quae necessario est inordinata. Igitur, non potest fieri quin intentio de mentiri sit malum.’ The thesis that ‘mentiri est cum intentione fallendi necessario’ derives from Peter Lombard’s Sententiae III 38 c. 3. Ordinatio III 38, articulus 1 opinio tertia (Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 486): ‘Talia tota non videntur quod possint esse bona, quae scilicet importata per talia nomina, sed illud quod est ibi substratum, possibile est esse sine tali deformitate, puta actus coeundi vel accipiendi rem talem.’ Cf. Opus Oxoniense III 38.6 (Lauriola §21).

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the underlying act is accompanied by circumstances which necessarily de­form it.64 Lying implies deceiving. Acts based on bad intentions are bad and wrong acts. Although the whole of Duns’ discussion of the problem of lying is laden with nuances, in the end we cannot conclude that he applies the dispensability criterion to lying. Simplistic labels do not help us out. Duns arrives at a strict ethical conclusion, although his argumentation is not nature-based, but willbased. Every com­mandment deserves and receives its proper treatment and in fact the centrality of God’s optimal goodness and optimal intentions tends to strict results. Willing is as such free willing and what matters is that we will what is good in good ways. As far as Duns Scotus’ ethics is concerned, the ethical issue of lying belongs to his necessary ethics, and not to his contingent ethics.65 5.8

Perjury

Duns Scotus’ treatment of perjury is a fine specimen of philosophical analysis and shows how a clear analysis can be connected with human clemency and pastoral hints. Academic minds can be sharp without being acute or shrewd. However, the subtle doctor is shrewd without being sharp. His treatment shows theological precision developed in all seriousness. Let us start with an every day question. Does perjury matter so much? It is wrong, but do we mind much? Someone might have been mistaken, or a bit thoughtle­ss, or he might have misunderstood someone. When someone swears an oath without much deliberation and what is at stake is not important, does he then jump immedia­tely into grave sin? Is it not the case that many people are supple when they are wrong, but do not persevere in their slight shortcomings? Duns is subtle and supple, but not supple in a lazy and easy-going way. 64

65

Ordinatio III 38, articulus 1 opinio tertia (Wolter, op. cit., 486): ‘Tamen prolatio istorum cum scientia oppositi, et per consequens cum intentione fallendi, non potest esse sine peccato, quia includit actum substratum cum circumstantiis actum necessario deformantibus.’ This cannot be the whole ethical story, as the War drama of Dutch Christian burgomasters shows in the cases of citizens who were hiding themselves. There are cases in which they in fact surrendered innocent citizens to the German occupants who asked where these citizens were to be found, because they were convinced that the Old Testament Law still obtained in this sense by forbidding lies under all circmstances. Such an etical example can save Duns’ theory.

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However, what is perjury? The analysis of perjury in Lectura III 39 is rather brief and starts with the definition of what an oath is: An affirmative oath is obligatory, since it asserts what is true, but an oath which promises something obliges to do so what it asserts (as far as a human person still can do so). To turn to God who sees everything, as a witness of one’s sin is a matter of disloyal unbelief.66 It is God he who swears the oath turns to, but it is also God who sees every­ thing. He is omniscient. So, he knows everything and he knows both the truth and what is opposed to this truth. He who swears the oath knows both the real truth, and also that God knows the real truth and that he who swears asserts the opposite before the countenance of God. So, he hurts and defies God himself. The definition of an oath (iuramentum) leads to the ethical judgment about perjury (periurium): to call upon God as a witness of what is untrue is to ridicule his veracity and to take God’s name in vain.67 The central issue for Duns lies here. What is the theological status of the prohibition to commit perjury? Peter Lombard saw this in the nature of a lie and, then, perjury is a sin against the second table of the Decalogue.68 Duns does not reduce the sinful nature of perjury to what a lie is, although he materially looks on perjury as a kind of a lie too. Perjury is primarily a sin against God: I say: perjury runs counter to the first table, but as far as it also hurts the neighbo­r, it also runs counter to the second table.69 The story on lying is one story, the story on perjury is another one. Perjury is a double sin. It is a lie and it is sin against respecting and honoring our neighbor. However, this sinfulness is also overruled, since it is God who is hurt. It offends the basics of faith and the basics of reality. 66

67 68 69

Lectura III 39.7: ‘Iuramentum assertivum est obligativum, quia est assertivum veri, sed promissorium obligat ad faciendum quod asserit (quantum potest tamen homo facere). Adducere enim Deum testem peccati sui qui omnia videt, infidelitatis est.’ The punctuation of the critical edition reads: ‘[...] facere): adducere enim Deum testem [...],’ but that leads astray. Ibidem: the second article. See Peter Lombard, Sententiae III 39. Lectura III 39.10: ‘Dico: periurium est contra primam tabulam, sed ut est nocivum proximo, est contra secundam tabulam.’

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In the meantime, Duns Scotus also considers the theme of habitual behavior, but he rejects the hypothesis that only habitual and continued behavior determines the moral value of an action. In that case an individual act would not yet have a determi­nate moral value. Duns’ argument is straightforward: If the first act is not a grave sin, then neither is the second one.70 This argument rests on the principle, that if the first act does not have a definite character, the second act has no definite character either. If custom changes the nature of an act, we cannot count such acts and if we cannot count such acts, it is impossible to identify a custom. Custom is simply ethically irrelevant,71 even if customs play their role within the whole of circumstances which accompany a certain action, but is this rule not too strict? Two things are at stake here. If only custom and habit yield seriousness and moral distinction to an act, then the individual act looses its moral meaning. However, this does not imply that all individual acts have the same moral wight. A mistake which one commits without any deliberation, a thoughtless or unlucky mistake certainly differs morally from intended wrong doing. If an act is to be valuable, it must be fully human, an actus humanus and, according to Duns, an actus humanus is a conscious and well-considered act which rests on deliberation and overview, but if such features are necessary conditions for a valuable act, they are so for wrong­ activities too.72 Similar nuances are found in Duns’ distinction between swearing in wellknown situations and swearing in situations where our knowledge can only be limited. It makes a difference when one is standing before a judge, while imprisonment or life and death are at stake, or when one has to witness when a high official has to be appointed. If in the first case the oath is contaminated with falsity, then the sin is mortal, and if one swears what proves to be false in the second case, it is a venial sin.73 70

71 72

73

Ordinatio III 39.6 according to Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 504: ‘Si primus actus periurandi non est peccatum mortale, igitur nec quicumque alius etiam ex quo­ cumque habitu fiat, quia habitus inclinans non potest facere actum graviorem.’ Ibidem. See Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 506: ‘Videtur igitur posse dici quod habitus vel consuetudo nihil facit ad propositum.’ Ibidem: ‘Sed periurium est ex pleno consensu et contra praeceptum primae tabulae, et per consequens immediate avertens a fine ultimo, et ita nihil deficit sibi de ratione peccati mortalis. Si autem fiat periurium indeliberate, quantumcumque frequenter fiat, cum actus meritorius requirat quod sit plene humanus et ita ex deliberatione plena; et actus meritorius omnino illud requireretur (non enim est Deus pronior ad puniendum quam ad condonandum).’ For the historical context of the custom that witnesses had to swear an oath with a view of candidates for the chancellorship, the rectorate or the office of being a bishop, and so on, see Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 112-13, cf. 508-11.

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If reality is contingent and open, then it is wise to approach reality in nuanced ways.74 Duns is aware that one has to be nuanced and he can be nuanced, because he focuses on the core of the matter. He comments on what an oath is with an appeal at Hebrews 6:16: ‘An oath confirms a statement and ends all argument.’ An oath is a statement that what a human person has said is true, aiming at ultimate consequences, for it is God who is sworn to. In this way an oath also provides for in social needs­, for ignorance and lies play their own role, but this risk has to be avoided. An oath is also a kind of medieval kill or cure remedy to cope with this need. God who knows the truth in virtue of his omniscience, is appealed to. He cannot lie in virtue of the goodness of his character. He is the ultimate witness who cannot be mistaken.75 5.9

Bigamy

Duns Scotus had clear intuitions on the nature of matrimony: monogamous matrimo­ny was originally part and parcel of the natural law (Genesis 2) and this specimen of natural law was gloriously restored by Christ: The two shall become one flesh (Mat­thew 19). Nevertheless, biblical cases exhorted Scotus to discuss the rational possibility of bigamy in Ordinatio IV 33 quaestio 1. Does the natural law permit bigamy, and did the Mosaic law ever permit bigamy? Were the old patriarchs allowed to have more wives? When Scotus starts to discuss the issue of bigamy, he does not simply ask whether bigamy be permissible, but he asks: How can strict and full justice be maintained, if the lawgiver permits bigamy? The first requirement turns out to be that bigamy is a matter of law giving so that the whole affair is withdrawn from arbitrari­ness; the second requirement stresses that the marriage settlements are strictly just for both parties so that the whole affair excludes unfairness. As the Latin terminology of matri-mony (matri-monium) already makes explicit, a matrimony presupposes motherhood, and motherhood means offspring. In addition to this first reason of procreation with regard to matrimony there is the second reason of avoiding fornication. However, this second reason cannot make any difference in matters of bigamy, because sexual relations do not require more wives. Female and male bodies function democratically 74

75

Cf. Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 504-6: ‘Confirmatur quia habitus non potest esse gravior [...], nisi ex actibus; ergo cum actus ex quibus generatur, sint veniales, habitus non faciet aliquam gravitatem mortalem in actibus elicitis ex habitu.’ Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 504: the first article.

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whereas one man can impregnate more women.76 The female body enjoys the same value as the male body and it would be utterly unjust to subject it to imperial men, neither can sin account for bigamy. On the contrary, Duns Scotus is adamant that sin and lapse require monogamy, for justice maintains equal rights for women and men. So, the right of monogamy can only be dropped if the first aim of matrimony implies that more offspring is desperately needed when members of the human race needed to be multiplied either in an unquali­fied sense, or with respect to divine worship, namely, because there were few who worshiped God, it was necessary that those who did so, would beget as much as they could.77 According to Scotus, the last point probably explains the situation of the patriarchs of old. The fact that the rule of monogamous matrimony is essentially contingent implies that an act of will has to be involved, but this role does not rest on arbitrari­ness; on the contrary, the entire treatment aims at excluding arbitrariness and unfairness. Apart from his comments with regard to the bigamous or polygamous situations of Abraham and Jacob – the case of Isaac is spontaneously left out –, and David, he also considers a case which might even have some variant application in present circumstances: If in case many men fell through war, the sword, or pestilence and there were still many women, bigamy would become licit even now, if one considers exclusively justice on the part of those who exchange and their exchanges. Then it would be the case that women ought to be willing to exchange with men so that they give more in return for less as far as the second aim is concerned, but equal for equal as far as the first aim is concerned. It would also be the case that the woman wills on the basis of good arguments that the good of offspring is achieved by intercourse of her husband with another woman. This can only happen if full justice is 76

77

See Ordinatio IV 33 quaestio 1, articulus 1 (Wolter, op. cit., 290): ‘Aequalis valoris est corpus viri et mulieris. Ideo de stricta iustitia pro statu naturae lapsae considerando istum contractum ut est ad utrumque finem requiritur commutatio unici corporis pro unico.’ Cf. Lauriola § 8. Ordinatio IV 33 quaestio 1.4 (Lauriola §11): ‘Tunc autem quando erat necessitas genus humanum multiplicandi, vel simpliciter vel ad cultum divinum, utpote, quia pauci erant cultores Dei, necessitas fuit, ut cultores Dei procrearent quantum possent.’ See Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 291-3.

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to be done on the basis of divine approbation which could surely happen and could be revealed to the Church in a special way.78 Again and again, we are struck by Duns Scotus’ careful argumentations both in favor of a rule and in favor of an exception. He invests much effort to argue for a strict and healthy concept of matrimony, and because he is convinced that the old saints did not sin in having more wives, he constructs a case of possible and wanted bigamy where all arbitrariness has been excluded. When we follow the strictness of argumentation and the impact of the regulation of an exception, one may wonder how the complaint of ‘voluntarism’ could ever have arisen. We discern the impact of this objective attitude when we return to the historical cases of the Old Testament. They do not match the theoretical and ethical require­ments of Duns Scotus. It is also clear that he and his contemporaries did not view them through historical lenses. The harshness of the family and court circumstances of the kings David and Solomon simply escaped their attention, just as it often escapes the critical attention of many modern Christians and theologians. 5.10

Harris on Scotus’ Ethics

C.R.S. Harris’s two volumes on Duns Scotus (1927) are a phenomenon in Duns Scotus scholarship.79 In a note added last minute Harris warns the reader that he had not made use of Longpré’s monograph, because he had only discovered it, when ‘this chapter was already irrevocably printed in page proof.’80 1927 was the same year as C. Balic’s dissertation was: Les commentaires de Jean Duns Scot 78 79 80

For the text, see Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 294 (end of the corpus of the second article). Cf. Opus Oxoniense IV 33.17. Harris, Duns Scotus I: The place of Duns Scotus in medieval thought and II: The philosophical doctrines of Duns Scotus. Harris, Duns Scotus I 37, in a note (36-7), appended to chap­ter I ‘The life and works of Duns Scotus’ (1-37), cf. Appendix III: ‘Notes on the authenticity of certain works attributed to Duns Scotus’ (361-75). Harris had digested Pelster’s ‘recent article’ (12): ‘Hanschriftliches zu Skotus mit neuen Angaben über sein Leben,’ Franziskanische Studien 10 (1923) 1-32. He accepted the main results (12-15). In 1931 (it was in fact 1929) Pelster calls Harris’s Duns Scotus a well known work (‘Hand­schriftliches zur Überlieferung der Quaestiones super libros Metaphysicorum und der Collationes des Duns Scotus II,’ Philosophisches Jahr­ buch 44 (1931) 79 (79-92)) and informs us that this work could already have been at the prin­ter in 1924 (op. cit., 80 note 1).

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sur les quatre livres des Sentences.81 When we look at the list of works according to Harris rightly attributed to Duns, we discern a gulf between his orientation and Balic’s text-critical approach, except in a late note or in the appendixes. Harris still appreciates the work of Karl Werner (1881(!)) while Maurice De Wulf had already complained of the superficiality of Werner’s contributions in 1900! P. Minges is important for Harris too. Although ‘Duns was above all things a metaphysician and speculative theologian, and his interest in ethics was only secondary,’82 Harris devotes a long chapter to the moral and political philosophy of Scotus. Again, the very antipode of Duns’ thought is Thomas Aquinas’ philosophy and the point of departure is the assumed medieval reconciliation of philosophy and theology. Nevertheless, here Harris is quite perceptive. ‘The boundary line between reason and revelation was marked with some degree of clarity, and for a time at least an open conflict on the frontier line could be avoided. But the case of ethics was somewhat different. Instead of a system of dogma which was partially reconcilable with the newly imported Aristotelian metaphysics and which could at least be interpreted in such a way as not to contradict too obviously the principles of reason, there existed already a moral tradition which was too definite and too different from the ethics of Greece to admit quite so satisfactory a partition.’83 So, scholasticism ethically presents a picture that is more heterogeneous than it usually has been described. Harris also discerns that Scotus shows a greater affinity with Anselm’s metaphysical doctrine of the will, while at the same time preserving the form of the rationalistic ethic of the Philo­sopher. His whole ethical theory is thus haunted by a vast inconsistency of his own making, within the domain of natural morality itself. For while he does not deny the rational nature of the moral law, he attempts, nevertheless, to make it dependent on the divine will, and it is the presence of this contradiction in his doctrine which has rendered it so peculiarly susceptible to one-sided misinterpretation.84

81

82 83 84

Balic, Étude historique et critique. Bibliothèque de la Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, Louvain 1927. In his contribution to the Collationes research of 1929, Balic still seems not to have known Harris’s Duns Scotus. Harris, Duns Scotus II 305 (305-57). Harris, op. cit., II 305-6. Op. cit., II 307-8.

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Harris himself is rather critical of a one-sided voluntaristic interpretation of Duns’ ethics. His proud point is that most critics have overlooked the decisive antinomy which reigns in Duns’ ethical philosophy: Yet it is only by recognizing its existence that we can account for his statements. In spite of this serious defect, it must, however, be admitted that Scotus’ ethical teaching represents in some important respects a distinct advance upon that of his predecessors, inasmuch as he brings out more clearly the moral significance of the freedom of the will.85 Anthony Quinton overlooked the pivotal role of necessary theology and necessary ethics within Scotus’ thought and thus the essential interaction between necessary and contingent propositions in Scotus’ theories of intellect, will and ethics. If we miss one of the two banks, we cannot build the bridge. In contrast with Quinton, Harris had fruitfully discerned the kernel of Scotus’ ethical philosophy in his Duns Scotus I-II, while stressing the so-called Anselmian core of his ethics: His insistence on the distinction between will and desire enables him to grapple more adequately with the psychological analysis of ethical problems and lends his thinking a deeper insight into the facts of moral experience than was displayed by any Christian thinker since the days of Augustine.86 On the one hand, Harris sees the independent importance of the distinction between will and desire and therefore the proper role of the will in the theory of action and ethics and on the other hand he warns not to look at Duns as a simple voluntarist. Therefore, he judges the interpretation of Landry and Jourdain, Schwane and Werner to be mistaken. Moreover, he discerns the second bank: Scotus’ statement that the goodness of an act depends on conformity with ‘right reason.’ So far, so good, but then Harris concludes that the conjunction of both banks constitutes a contradiction. So, Harris replaces the dilemma of an arbitrary voluntarism by the antinomy of a frank inconsistency.

85 86

Op. cit., II 308. Op. cit., II 303.

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It is only by a frank recognition of this antinomy that we can hope to avoid the one sided interpretation in which his teaching has so often been distorted.87 Thus, we see how Harris’s interpretation deviates from the standard criticism of Scotian ethics. In general it is suggested that his theory of will and freedom is the distinctive foundation of his ethics and this is patently true. However, in this light the paradoxes of contingency, will and freedom are seen as the roots of his ethics, and many consider the priority of will over intellect to be the only basic element. According to this view, the freedom of the act of creation runs parallel to the role of freedom in constituting what is good. During a century of neoscholastic revival and in the parallel history of general philosophy, this charge has been repeated again and again: Only the will constitutes moral truth. Perhaps the most persistently recurring objection to the moral philosophy of John Duns Scotus is voiced most succinctly by Anthony Quinton in his article in the new Encyclopedia of philosophy: Things are good because God wills them and not vice versa, so moral truth is not acces­ sible to the natural reas­on.88 This type of interpretation raises well-known puzzles of Duns Scotus’ ethics such as the Harrisian paradox and the notion of ethically neutral propositions, but why does the Parisian approach landshore on Duns Scotus? Neither our conceptions of philosophy and of theology are equipped to do justice to medieval ‘philosophical’ thought. Thirteenth-century terminolo­gy, being itself the upshot of the collision with ‘Aristotle,’ is quite helpful. ‘Philosophia’ and ‘theologia’ are not used in the ancient Greek way, neither in the modern way. Here, ‘philosop­hia’ and ‘theologia’ do not indicate subjects or scien­ces, neither academic professions or faculties, but – to use an alternative anachronism – ways of thoug­ht or ways of ideas. Accor­ding to both Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus, philosophia was a dated way of thinking and it was not only dated, but also basically and mainly wrong. The future was not for philosophy, but for theology.

87 88

Harris, op. cit., II 335. Wolter, ‘Native freedom of the will as a key to the ethics of Scotus,’ in McCord Adams (ed.), Wolter. The Philo­sophical Theology of John Duns Scotus, 148 (148-62), quoting from Anthony Quinton, ‘British philosophy,’ EP I 373.

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Concluding Remarks

5.11.1 Biblical Jammers If the method of doing ethics has to be different, then the Decalogue has also to be approached according to different lines, but there is still another dilemma which is often neglected. Duns Scotus’ ethics is mainly discussed by philosophers who tend to overlook the role biblical hermeneutics had for medieval theologians. There is a dilemma to biblical ethics in the Middle Ages which cannot be solved in terms of the logical-analytical style of medieval ethics itself. The dilemma is most urgent for a Thomist type of ethics, but not only there. If the whole of the Decalogue expresses ‘natural law,’ then God’s commandment of Genesis 22 is necessarily wrong. Biblical events and statements are taken as embodying simple truth. Here, the obiecta are delivered by biblical references ascribing acts and commandments to God and heroes of faith. It is clear to Duns Scotus that an ethical theory which makes God and his saints sinners and liars cannot be true, but we can neither say that Duns’ solutions are always satisfactory. The ethical dilemma is clear, and Duns Scotus is not against a Thomist type of solution from an a priori voluntarist bias, but because God’s integrity cannot be salvaged in this way. The ethicists of classic theology did not have a satisfactory method to solve such dilemmas, because they could not do so, and they could not do so, because there was no historical method to solve them – not in the Middle Ages, neither in antiquity, nor in the early modern centuries. Sometimes they felt the strain of a biblical moral narrative, sometimes they did not. Christian ethicists usually overlooked that marrying your female slave was allowed in patriarchal times, but was forbidden by the Mosaic law. Christian theologians still overlook, for instance, that the old Book of the Covenant has a command to kill the firstborn ones: ‘You must give me the firstborn of your sons. Do the same with your cattle and your sheep. Let them stay with their mothers for seven days, but give them to me on the eight day’ (Exodus 22:29-30). Such challenges can only be solved by investigating historically the convictions of old-Semitic morality and the development of biblical morality in the light of the dynamics of revelation. All the complications are caused by Old Testament narratives, but old scholastic theology did not make such observations, although they were aware of differences between the Old and the New Testament. 5.11.2 Systematic Structures The conceptual structures of Duns Scotus’ ethics and ontology, including the distincti­on between necessary and contingent ethics, yield solutions to the

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well-known inter­pretations and dilemmas in Scotian ethics. Moreover, there is a stark contrast between the lucidity of Scotian ethics and the devastatingly complicated history of ethics in general. Duns was doing ethics within a specific context. He had joined the ranks of the brethren of Francis of Assisi where the morality of love and joy drastically stands out against the morals of the law of nature. In fact, the term ‘law of nature’ itself betrays an a-ethical approach of ethics, for it suggests that natural reality itself embodies morality. That is the way necessitarianism thinks, but it is an impossible way. Natural ethics is a contradictio in adiecto, for such a cosmos cannot exist. It is imposible that everything is necessary.89 The personal existence of Francis of Assisi is to be found just at the other extreme of the ontological spectrum. Duns Scotus’ identification of what the law of nature is up to expresses the radical emancipation from the ancient way of the law of nature. Wolter lists a number of presuppositions of Duns Scotus’ ethics in the instruc­tive introduction to his source book Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality. Of couse, if we deal with subject b and we list some presuppositions of b, for instance, to be found in subject a, then the presuppositions are not to be seen as irrational or unprovable starting points. We simply cannot deal with all themes at the same time. Nevertheless, Linus Thro felt somewhat unquiet. Scotus’ ethics seems to assume a specific notion of God, and we are under a strong impression that we sail in Christian waters: ‘As to the first presupposition, is not the presupposed ‘metaphysical notion of God’ really a Christian notion?’90 Can Duns Scotus’ treatment of this Christian notion of God cope with the Aristotelian standards for delivering a strict proof? Such questions presuppose that the Aristotelian position is in itself a tenable one. They assume that there is a rational law court, but if we have discovered that there is only one consistent notion of God to be found in the wide field of philosophy of religion, we realize that such questions rest on inconsistent presuppositions. Comparative philosophy is crucial and it starts with refuting as many alternatives as possible, and then we also discover that there is not much space left: what matters is the notion of God in the sense of the best possible person, and the best possible person is the only possible divine person. The space of rational – or ‘rationalist’ – criticism Thro assumes does not exist.91 Moreover, this harvest of ethics where theology and philoso89 90 91

See DPhil chapter 16, cf. KN (1981) chapter 7. Thro, ‘Review of Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality,’ Manuscripta 31 (1987) 46. Cf. § 5.2. Compare DPhil chapters 13-16. For me, the metaphysical confidence the Christian Aristotelians put in Aristotle is rather enigmatic. When I was a freshman more than fifty years

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phy meet, has still to be wedded to modern biblical theology. Classic theology could ony try to do justice to the dynamics of biblical revelation in an a-historical way. The explanation of this fact is trivial: historical consciousness did not exist before the second quarter of the nineteenth century, and by then it still existed in a primitive way. Modern Christian ethics has to walk on two legs: on the systematic leg and on the historical leg. 5.11.3 Ethics and Spirituality Only God can satisfy our heart’s desire. The proper rest rests in God and human rest is found in love which rests in God’s love (ex natura sua summe amator sui).92 He is the solid ground, the rock where no foot staggers. This foundation is the eventual basis of faith as a beatitude, for the blessed (beati) rest in God: They rest in God through Him, since they are as it were incorporated because they have the glory by which they enjoy God, just as a stone rests in the center by its gravity. Yet, they do not rest and enjoy primarily, for they rest and enjoy by participating in the First One who enjoys.93 In understanding fruitio we have to pay attention to three formal aspects: 4. Enjoyment (fruitio) is an act of will.94 5. Enjoyment includes rest.95 6. Enjoyment is relational and is related to the object so that it is only the object which is the object of concern. God is loved because of himself, and that does us well.96

92 93

94 95

96

ago, I discovered the recent refutations of Plato and Aristotle and the whole of the Greek undertaking brilliantly delivered by Brouwer, Heyting and Beth – the impressive Amsterdam School in logic, epistemology and philosophy of science. See Lectura I 1.138-139. Lectura I 1.139: ‘Quiescunt enim in Deo per se, quia sunt quasi incorporati per habitum gloriae quo Deo fruuntur, sicut lapis per gravitatem quiescit in centro. Non tamen primo quiescunt et fruuntur, sed per participationem primi fruentis.’ See Lectura I 1.7-8. Lectura I 1.137: ‘Frui includit quietem; et ideo per simile de quiete corporum potest cognosci competit frui et quibus non, dicente Augustino: Amor meus, pondus meum; eo feror quocumque feror.’ Cf. Lectura I 1.10-11. Lectura I 1.76. Duns stresses that this is common doctrine.

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Enjoyment is reasonable, since what matters is God in Christ. Enjoyment is altruistic joy.97 Duns shows the priority of enjoyment with the help of the relatuionship between a principium and conclusio (thesis). We assent to the truth of a principle, a self-evident proposition because of itself (propter se), and a thesis because of something else (proter aliud), since the truth of a thesis eventually depends on principles.98 Precisely this structure determines what frui is, for frui is related to someone else.99 When we assess Duns Scotus’ ethics in itself, we get a picture entirely different from the scene of Greek and Hellenistic ethics, and from modern naturalism. Apart from the historical and biblical challenges we observe a closely knit ethics, built on the solid foundation of a consistent doctrine of God, surrounded by a philosophy of religion which enjoys enormous demonstrative power. It is ethics, on the one hand, grounded in spirituality and, on the other hand, extrapolating spirituality in philosop­hical ways. God is the great discovery of Christian faith. This surprising discovery bases the Christian faith. Life turns out to be quite different from what it seemed to be. Everything seems to be interesting, but it becomes clear that only God can satisfy the heart’s desire. Augustine placed this insight at the very foundation of Christian learning and education in his De doctrina christiana.100 Bonaventure makes it quite clear that enjoyment (fruitio) is essentially an act of will.101 Between Anselm and Duns Scotus, both in the doctrine of God and in anthropology, the will takes pride of place more and more. It is the existential other side of the ontological priority of the individual. Reality is not only decosmologized and deformalized, but it is also personalized. Theology and philosophy have to be theocentric, since reality is theocen­tric, and ethics is the human mirror image of the doctrine of divine activity. 97 98 99 100 101

See Lectura I 1.135-136. Cf. Lectura I 1.133-4 where Duns argues that we cannot say of animals that they enjoy themselves (frui). See Lectura I 1.73-74. Intellectus is grasping principles, and scientia is deductively knowing what can be derived from what is self-evident (conclusiones, theses). Cf. DS 69-73 and Kitanov, Beatific Enjoyment in Scholastic Philosophy and Theology, chapters 3-5. See Severin Kitanov, Beatific Enjoyment in Scholastic Philosophy and Theology, chapters 1 and 2. On Bonaventure’s theology of fruitio, see Kitanov, ‘Bonaventure’s Understanding of fruitio,’ Picenum Seraphicum 20 (2001) 137-91.

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Chapter 6

Justification 6.1

Introduction

In the monotheistic world religions, God has a special place. In Christianity, centering around understanding Christ, God is experien­ced as He who bears human existence, not only in creation, but also in redemp­tion. Christian faith considers redemption to be objective. The act of redemption has the objective effect of being redeemed. Human beings are placed in the reality of redemption, but in such a way that they also place themselves in it. There is also docetic soteriology to be found in the whole of Christendom, but such theological movements are absent in patristic and medieval theology, and, thus, they are no key to the Scotian stance in soteriology. In medieval theology, there is no docetism to be met, and there is no liberalism. We are introduced into the new reality of grace and faith, if we enter it. The objective reality of redemption has its own existential color. The objecti­vity is received in the modus of subjectivity. For this reason, ­the history of faith molds redemption as justification. The subjective side has its own form and this form is spiritual and ethical. Christian theology is ethical theology. It is about grace and forgiveness, justification and righteousness. It is about divine and human justice. The foundations of Western Christianity came to be shaken, when justification started to be questioned in the second half of the fifteenth century and this process continued in the first half of the sixteenth century. Then, in some quarters, the view of justification deteriorated into a doctrine of partial selfjustifi­ca­tion. Self-justification is as much a contradic­tion as self-creation and self-redemption. Justification and to justify are divine properties, encaptic properties of God: individual and contingent properties of God. In the Middle Ages, the spiritual and theological climate in which justification by faith is discussed, differs signifi­cantly from that of the Renaissance, the Reformation and the Counter Reformati­on spheres in two respects:1 both the 1 KN 98-126 characterize the ontological and logical changes in European thought around 1500, and Vos ‘De zondeval van de theologie (Theology’s Fall),’ Utrecht 1982, considers the anthropo­ logical changes of the same period. Prof. Nico den Bok prepared a helpful provisional translation of chapter 6: ‘Rechtvaardiging’ (Justification) of my Johannes Duns Scotus, Leiden 1994, many years ago.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004360235_007

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idea of partial self-justification and that of an isolated forensic justificati­on were unknown in the Middle Ages, whereas the doctrines of grace and justification almost never rested on some kind of theological necessitarianism, and certainly not in the main tradition which is the Franciscan-Augustinian tradition.2 Here, the intri­guing question concerning Duns Scotus’ doctrine of justification can still be raised in terms of confessional disagreements, just as Alister McGrath did: The notional distinction between iustificatio and regeneratio provides one of the best differentiae between Catholic and Protestant understanding of justifi­cation, marking the Reformers’ complete discontinui­ty with the earlier theological tradition.3 Is such a diagnosis helpful to analyze and to understand Duns Scotus’ theory of justification, and in general the medieval doctrines of justification? Does this view of Alister McGrath meet any probability? At any rate, the medieval doctrine of justification starts from a joyful depen­dence on God’s redemption in Christ, which is taken realistically both on the objective side and on the subjective side. In this respect, however, seventeenth-century orthodox Reformed spirituality does not differ much from this point of view. Human beings profess to have found a solid foundation on which reality appears to be built, and can be rebuilt, in a new way (renovatio mundi). Here, Duns Scotus’ Franciscan spirituality follows the Augustinian lead. At the same time, it has its own singular quality. Before we concentrate on his personal frame of thought (§ 6.3), we pause at some elements pertaining to the background of the idiom and the tradition of the doctrine of justificati­on (§ 6.2). Thereafter, we turn to Lectura I 17, a key text for Duns’ personal position. In § 6.4 we show how his analysis must be understood within the context of the discus­sion of Peter Lombard’s view, and in § 6.5 – on acceptatio divina – we analyze Duns Scotus’ view on the way God justifies. Subsequently, we discuss his doctrine of sin (§ 6.6­). § 6.7 deals with Martin Luther’s view of justification and § 6.8 with the Küng-Barth dilemma in the light of Luther’s theology of justification and its possible forefront. § 6.9 2 Compare Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I II 113.1 and III 65.2 with Gabriel Biel, Canonis Missae Expositio 31 B. See McGrath, ‘Forerunners of the Reformation,’ Harvard Theological Review 75 (1982) 219-42. 3 Alister McGrath, Iustitia Dei I (A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification I-II, Cambridge 1986) 51.

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tries to solve this dilemma and concludes with some remarks starting from the perspecti­ve of Duns Scotus’ views. 6.2

Idiom and Tradition

6.2.1 Introduction Compared with Whitehead’s bon mot that Western thought is a series of footnotes to Plato it would be more helpful to say that medieval theology is a series of footnotes to Augustine. The doctrine of justification is no exception to this rule. It can also be applied at the philosophy of the major theologians (although less at the philosophies of the facultas artium). In the period of the early Church, Christianization was miraculously successful, not only in the field of morals, but also in the realm of reason. 6.2.2 The Historical Background Many still hold on to the suspici­on raised by the liberal history of dogma – the German Dogmenge­schichte –, that the Gospel of Christ had seriously been compromized by the early Christians’ Hellenism. This suspicion might be fostered by the fate of the Pauline doctrine of justifica­tion. To my mind, this view is a theological Germanism. The early Church dogma’s are not products of the Greek mind on the ground layed by the Gospel. Isaäc van Dijk, not happy with Harnack’s thesis, wrote at the beginning of the twentieth century: The matter is different historically. I would like to formulate that in their conception and development the dogma’s are products of the Christian mind shaped by Greek means. This makes a great difference, I would say.4 There is no need to rediscove­r the actual Gospel by modern investigations, or for that matter by the Reformation, because the Church has always believed in it and lived by it. However, the fact that there hardly is a doctrine of justifica4 Isaäc van Dijk, ‘Het wezen des christendoms II: Christendom en historie’ (1907), in Maarten van Rhijn (ed.), Gezamenlijke Geschriften II, Groningen 1917, 327. Sixty-five years later, my teacher W.C. van Unnik (1910-1978) – a famous New Testament and patristic scholar – confirmed that after all the new historical research since the beginning of the twentieth century there is no need whatsoever, that Van Dijk would have to revoke anything from his original analyses. On Van Dijk, see W.C. van Unnik, ‘Isaac van Dijk,’ Ernst en vrede, Utrecht 1951, 146-70, and Antonie Vos ‘Kerk en cultuur volgens Isaäc van Dijk,’ in J.R.A. Vlasblom and J.G. van der Windt (eds.), Heel de kerk. Enkele visies op de kerk binnen de Ethische Richting, Zoetermeer 1995, 161-86.

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tion before Augustine seems to contradict this view. Let us take a closer look at the development of the terms and thoughts in question. New terms do not eo ipso show that a new faith or new feelings are introduced, nor does linguistic conservatism prove that there is continuity of ideas. Continuity and discontinuity are on the illocutionary level, and not on an isolated locutionary level. For instance, linguistically non-biblical terms like trinitas and incarnatio, hypo­ stasis and persona, autexousia and liberum arbitrium, natura and voluntas do not demonstrate that the Hellenistic Church has been un­faithful to the testimony of the New Testament. On the contrary, the early Church has been tho­roughly influenced by the Gospel of the Bible. The new idiom reflects a new way of thinking based on biblical witnesses. This way of thinking has been elicited by the development of theology in its patristic form. It does not contra­dict New Testa­ment faith, it flows from it. In fact, despite what the critics of the early Christian dogma’s believe, it supports New Testa­ment faith. This does not mean, however, that nothing changed. Augustine’s doctrine of justifica­tion is as much a landmark in the development of the theology of salvation as is Anselm’s theory of satisfaction in the history of the doctrine of atonement. The Augustini­an doctrine of justification is in fact related to the older doctrine in very much the same ways as the Anselmian doctrine of atone­ment is related to the ancient doctrines.5 6.2.3 To Justify Two large and complex developments have taken place (the second of which was still in process in Augustine’s days): the creation of theological Greek and of theological Latin. This twofold creation must have been next to all-embracing, because the langua­ges in which the divine revelation had been testified – Hebrew and Aramaic – cannot be characterized as theological ones. This develop­ment could hardly have been succesful, if the New Testament had not instigated and protected it – which could hardly have been succesful in turn, if the Septuaginta had not already built a new background. As far as justification language is concerned, the Septuaginta had already made the transiti­on from hasdiq to dikaioun. The classical meaning of dikaioun with a personal object 5 I agree with Bultmann, Neues Testament und Mythologie, that demythologization has to be an important component of systematic theology. However, to my mind, the program of demythologization as envisaged by Bultmann is unnecessary, because he overlooked that orthodox theology before 1800 has already carried out an adequate theoretical reconstructin. Bultmann disregarded the development of theology between the New Testament and the En­lightenment. See DPhil chapters 14-16.

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usually presuppo­ses someone’s unjust cause, so that punishment can be one of its connota­tions; hasdiq, however, is positive and means: to vindica­te someone, to declare that he is ‘in his right.’6 Thus, the Septua­ginta leads the complex semantic shift of dikaioun. How did the notion of justification further develop? The Latin term iustificatio does not emerge in classical authors; its meaning is mainly theological. The Vulgata translated the Greek dikaiosis by iustificati­o, and renders dikaiomata with iustificationes. Augustine, drew from the idea that -ficare seems to be the unemphasized form of facere and explained iustifi­care as iusti-ficare, iustum facere. Although Augustine is not always reliable etymological­ly, his derivation of iustificare seems reasonable; anyway, ancient and medieval etymolo­gies enable us to under­stand how particular terms were actually under­stood. Thus, in Latin as a theologi­cal language there is another difficulty. For linguistic reasons the idea of iustificatio is a rather late one. With Au­gustine (354-430), however, the idea takes a particular turn. Augustine is increasingly convin­ced, that the human response to God’s grace must be understood in terms of God’s grace itself. In this way, the doctrine of justification becomes ‘the other side’ of the doctrine of grace.7 Iustitia covers human life as a whole. It is about becoming ‘just,’ which means ‘being made to live as God intends man to live, in every aspect of his existence.’8 Justice is primarily one of God’s characteristics; as such, He is also the source of justice for human beings. God cannot but act in accor­dan­ce with justice, and in this way He also deals with sinful human beings by giving them justice as a gift of grace. Because of this root in God’s essence, divine justice has a universal range. The Augustinian view on justification, therefore, has life-embracing conse­quences for the history of the impius. ‘Making just’ covers the entire Christian life, from the first moment of faith, throughout the daily growth in justice before God and men, to the eschatological fulfillment of the iustitia Dei in the heavenly city. Emerging from late antiquity medieval Christians glance at the gift of justifying faith with eyes full of wonder; they are surprised and glad to receive it from the Creator of the heavens and the earth. This gift can only remain fulfilling, if it is experienced as something real. The radiance of sacramenta and sacramentalia, the safety of monastery and church create a realized eschatology and a 6 See the Greek deutero-canonical books. Cf. Watson, ‘Some observations concerning the use of dikaioo in the Septuagint,’ Journal of Biblical Literature 79 (1960) 255-66, and Havelock, ‘An Essay in Greek Intellectual History,’ Phoenix 23 (1969) 49-70. 7 See McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 30-6. 8 McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 36.

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presentia realis. This continent of faith is nicely mapped by McGrath when he says that the characteristic medieval understanding of the nature of justificati­on may be summarised thus: justification refers not merely to the begin­ nings of the Christian life, but also to its continuation and ultimate perfecti­on, in which the Christian is made righteous in the sight of God and the sight of men through a fundamental change in his nature, and not merely his status.9 Sadly enough, the liberal German Dogmengeschichte distorted­ violently the Entdecker­freude of the centuries of mission and Christianizati­on.10 There is no need to be amazed, when we find the funda­men­tal distinction made by some Reformers: between a purely forensic and exterior declaration of divine judgment (justification) and the subse­quent process of inner renewal (sanctification). Up to McGrath this distinc­tion has been marked as one of the most distinguishing characteristics of Reformation theology.11 The problem, of course, must be the reverse: which religious and psychological factors have turned the realism of justification into a problem? It has certainly not been a problem to the English, French and Dutch Reformers. In medieval theological Latin the Augustinian mark remains visible: iustificatio also comprises what the later Reformation tradition calls sanctificatio. The doctrine of the proces­sus iustificationis, as it is enfolded from the beginning of the twelfth century, is consistent with this compre­hensive view. The divine iustitia is engraved in the doctrine of divine properties. The differences between the early Franciscan and the early Dominican school seem neglectable in this respect, at least spiritually. It is quite wrong, therefore, to consider Thomas Aquinas as the turning point of the entire development, as Frie­drich Loofs did,12 although it would be possible to take Thomas’ view that God’s 9 10

11 12

McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 41. Time and again, it appears quite difficult to break away from the prejudices and the misrepresentations, offered by, among others, Harnack, Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte I-II 1885-90, and Loofs, Leitfaden zum Studium der Dogmengeschichte (31893). For Harnack, see Pauck, Harnack and Troeltsch, and Meijering, Theologische Urteile über die Dogmen­ geschichte. See above, note 3. Loofs, Leitfaden, 292. In Loofs’s study published more than a century ago, the quotations are well-chosen, but the interpretation usually fails. With a disarming naïveté, Loofs tells his reader that the traditional edition of Opera Omnia I. Duns Scoti was not available to him. Because the Vivès-edition had not yet been published, when Loofs composed his

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justice simply depends on his will, as a check-point, but we have to be aware that Aquinas has his own doctrine of will.13 Together with iustus and iustitia, iustificare belongs to a family of terms to which mereri and meritum also belong.14 This family of terms is embedded into a new Renaiassance field of forces. 6.2.4 The Ontological duplex ordo In Renaissance circles the classic foundation of the theological endeavor shifts away. The ontological dilemma of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries which consists of the dilemma of Christian contingency thought versus ancient philosophical necessitarianism, is replaced by new thought patterns: a new anthropological dilemma. A nature is now seen as something fundamental: rock bottom. Its development is partially an autonomous process. In this crisis of the early modern age a minority proposes a new model of the Christian faith and of doing theology. Luther then defends the classic position of grace and sin: everything in the history of faith turns around God in Christ. The Reformation opposes the new Renaissance theology of synergism, a new moderate Christian humanism of autonomy and the Renaissance philosophy of the anthropological duplex ordo: nature and super nature, super nature built on nature. However, the Reformers still believed in the only trust and the only consolation of human existence, for we belong to Jesus Christ, and not to ourselves (Heidelberg Catechism, question and answer 1), but the early modern humanistic view states that we belong to ourselves. We are self-dependent and autonomous. This new anthropology is the demarcation line between medieval Christianity and early modern ideology as far as it deviates from the medieval canon. The Reformation joins the medieval canon, but it does so in a new field of cultural, philosophical and theological forces and tensions. Ergo: The Reformation is a new moment in the tradition of the catholica, and Counter Reformation is a new deviation from the tradition of the catholica. It is the discontinuity between philosophia (ancient philosophy) and theologia (medieval philosophical theology) – just the medieval meanings of ‘philoso-

13 14

Leitfaden, he must have meant the Wadding edition. Harnack and Loofs sounded a specific message and their works can be read as well-written ‘theological novels.’ On Harnack and Loofs, compare §§ 9.3-9.4. See Thomas Aquinas, De Veritate 23.6. See McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 14-23.

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phia’ and ‘theologia,’ so different from the modern ones – that matters, and it is the continuity between medieval theology and early modern Reformed theology that throws new light on the Reformation as a ‘medieval’ counter movement. The Reformation is not a sign of the decay of the Church, but proves the vitality of the Church. The Counter Reformation view on reality as a duplex ordo of nature and super nature is also the key for understanding the Reformation language of the solae: sola gratia, sola fide. The Counter Reformation movement changes the idiom and the logic of Christian language. In Christian language crucial verbs like to create, redeem, to justify and sanctify express what Plantinga calls encaptic properties: encaptic properties are not only contingent, but also individual – no other agent can have them; they are incommunicable. What is at stake, is the anthropological generalization of Maria coredemptrix: man as homo coredemptor. However, when one changes what is essential, the upshot is some­ thing impossible. The Reformation is opposed to embracing what is impossible. Redemption cannot receive something completing it as if the supernatural has to complete the natural – just as creating cannot have a cocreator. 6.3

The Context of the Doctrine of Justification

Duns simply endorses the thesis that God’s justice in justification depends on his will. However, a comparison of Aquinas and Scotus is not an easy one, because they not only have different theories of the scientia Dei and the voluntas Dei, but also because voluntas does not have the same meaning for them. An in-depth analysis of concepts used by both theologians is needed, if we are to know what they say (at the surface of their confes­sional formulations), what they mean, and what is compelling and tenable ­in their views. So, what is Scotus’ basic concep­tuality by which the specific meanings of his concepts are governed? In justification the will plays an essential role, not only on God’s side, but also on the human side. The specifically Scotian cast both of anthropolo­gy and of the doctrine of God is due to the interaction between the doctrine of the will and the theory of contingency. One of the decisive aspects in Duns’ doctrine of the will is the way in which he resumes the Anselmian distinction between willing one’s own good – tending to what is pleasant and comfor­ta­ble (commodum) – and willing what is objectively good, which is determi­ned by the Other. Parallel to this distinction is that of doing justice to oneself and being just for the sake of justice itself. From the ethical view­point, Duns Scotus’ view

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hinges on the intrinsical value of what is good. This objective justice and goodness are a gift of grace; they are gratuitous, endowed by love. At the same time, they are the proper fulfillment of the will’s freedom, because it liberates the will from that necessity Aristotle claimed was characteri­stic of all natural agents, namely, to seek happiness and the perfection of their nature above everything else.15 For Scotus, justification by God has a specific object: an act of love for God. As an act this act of love primarily is an act of the will, just as the acceptance of this act by God primarily is an act of his will. On the ontologi­cal level Duns usually solves conceptual problems directly or indirectly by turning to contingency – just as, on the personal level, by turning to the will. In other words, in the material elaboration of his view Duns takes his lead in preliminary questions, such as: what exactly are we dealing with: an act, a disposition or a non-personal property? If it is an act, then it is an act of will, and if it is an act of will, on which aspects of that act are particu­lar qualificati­ons, like graciousness or meritoriousness, in fact based? In the first part of Lectura I 17 the question is discussed whether the love for God and the neighbor is identical with the Holy Spirit. Scotus follows the main stream of twelfth- and thirteenth-century theology in maintaining that a Trinitarian person cannot be that love; it must be a personal disposition. The next questions are: why does God Triune use a disposition to realize an act of love, and what makes that act meritorious, that is, what makes God accept such an act so that eternal life can be merited by it? It will be clear that the entire framework of Scotian conceptualiza­tion must be presupposed: in this analysis will, act, dispositi­on, love, evaluati­on, divine essence and divine act come toge­ther. We come to the same conclusion by taking into account the results of Dettloff’s study of Lectura I 17. His summary reads that the will and the disposition of love are tightly connected with each other and together they bring forth a meritorious act.16 The act of love is an act primarily because of the will; it is meritorious, however, primarily because it is an act of love. The aspect of valuation rests on the lovability of the act. It is meritorious, because it is good.17 15 16

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Wolter, ‘John Duns Scotus,’ ER IV 515. Dettloff, Die Lehre von der acceptatio divina bei Scotus, 52: ‘Weil Wille und Liebes­habitus, ganz eng miteinander verbunden, als zwei Teilursachen einen verdienstlichen Akt hervorbringen.’ Dettloff used texts taken from excellent manuscripts. In Dutch we can say: ‘Het deugt.’ Compare deugd = virtue, en deugdelijk.

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The act is as such object of God’s acceptance. In Lectura I 17 acceptus, gratus and meritorius are almost synonomous terms. Meritoriousness is a relatio­nal property; it is addressed to the divine will and its acceptance, and it is directed to the eternal loving communion with God. This act is worthy of eternal life because it is not an empty or formal act, but an act of love; someone who loves God is very different from someone hating God. In this way Duns’ doctrine of justifica­tion is rooted in reality.18 Something is only qualified in a certain way, if God qualifies it; but God’s qualificati­ons are full of a most objective sense of reality. In this way we indeed see the tips of the icebergs of Scotian thought emerging in the waters of this distinction: the doctrine of God, the theory of proper­ties, ontology and the theory of contingency, the theory of act and disposition, ethics and teleology, eschatology and anthropology – they are always interwoven and work together to produce a consistent whole. Here we see the early Duns at work in his own characteristic way: while one question is solved in some vital aspects, the entire philos­ophical-theological conception also comes to the fore. 6.4

Love and the Holy Spirit

We look at Lectura I 17. In the first question of this distinction love (caritas) is the central notion. This distinction is burde­ned with an historical complicati­on, since it is one of the very few issues in which the majority of theologians after Lombard did not follow the Master. Peter Lombard identified the love of God and neighbor with the Holy Spirit. In the way in which Duns Scotus deals with this distincti­on, he not only gives an example of the typically medieval method of explai­ning reverently (reverenter expone­re), but he also announces his treatment of the subject.19 First of all, he defends the magister sententiarum against the accusation of Pelagianism.20 This element is interesting, because it informs us about the way in which John Duns describes the theory of Pelagius. The point to be discusses here is whether Peter Lombard teaches the same as Pelagius did (Lectura I 17.7). Duns denies in Lectura I 17.8, that the Magister Sententiarum and Pelagiust teach the same view, 18 19

20

Dettloff, Die Lehre von der acceptatio divina bei Scotus, 52-7. On the method of exponere reverenter, see DPhil §§ 14.7-14.9, and on love for God and neighbor-love, see DPhil § 12.5. Consult Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, chapter 3 on Lectura I 17. See Lectura I 17.8. For Peter Lombard’s view on, and rejection of Pelagius, see Sententiae II 28.

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since Pelagius asserts that a human being can perform all that is meritorious, purely in virtue of what is essential to him, without special support of the Holy Spirit.21 Theologians like Richard of Middleton interpret Lombard as saying that the Holy Spirit is human love received together with faith and hope. According to Duns, Peter Lombard refutes this Pelagian view in Lectura II 28, and Duns also defends the position that without grace the free judgment of the will (liberum arbitri­um) cannot keep the com­mand­ments, and can neither keep itself from sin, for in Lectura II 28 it is asked whether the free human judgment can keep the law without grace. What does the theory Duns calls the mistake of Pelagius (error Pelagii), consist in? The answer runs as follows: The heretical error of Pelagius consists in this that he asserts that a human person can keep himself from actual sin without grace.22 The error of Pelagius is the opinion that sinlessness is possible in the present state of salvation history, but without grace.23 Duns Scotus reminds his readers of Pelagius’ idea that no child has original sin, so that it is really capable of keeping itself from actual sin.24 The discussion of Pelagi­a­nism is com­pli­cated by the fact that in the Middle Ages Pelagius’ Libellus fidei was ascribed to Jerome, its title being Symbo­li/ Fidei explanatio ad Damasum.25 In this book­let we find the view that it is blasphemy to hold, that keeping the command­ments is impossible. It is clear how this was meant by Pelagius, but Duns only uses this view to refute other theories. Again 21 22 23

24

25

See Lectura I 17.8: ‘[…], quia Pelagius ponit quod homo ex puris naturalibus, sine speciali assistentia Spiritus Sancti, potest facere omnia meritoria.’ Lectura II 28.7: ‘Et in hoc est error Pelagii, scilicet quod ponit hominem cavere posse peccatum actuale sine gratia.’ Lectura II 28.5: ‘Sed contra: est error Pelagii’ means: ‘However, a counter argument is that it is the error of Pelagius.’ By way of exception, the critical edition has a confusing interpunction here: ‘Sed contra est error Pelagii.’ Consult the entire Lectura II 28 and Ordinatio II 28. See Lectura II 28.7: ‘Et in hoc est error Pelagii, scilicet quod ponit hominem cavere posse peccatum actuale sine gratia, et in hoc quod dicit nullum parvulum habere peccatum originale, et ita potest cavere – ut dixit – actuale post.’ For this description of Pelagius’ position, medievals depend on Augustine – see, for instance, his De haeresibus. Duns quotes from this book in Lectura I 28.11: ‘Sed secundum Hieronymum, “qui ponit impossibile servare praecepta, anathema sit.” Igitur, liberum arbitrium potest servare praeceptum.’ For the role of auctoritates, see DPhil 342-3, 529-33 and 537-9.

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his own ontology of contin­gency and necessity provides for the soluti­on. The free judgment of the will is seen in its depen­dence on grace, for only in this way it can keep the command­ments.26 The perfectibility approach of Pelagius is not so much left aside, but is simply absent. McGrath mentions three general complications, inherent in the Augustini­an character of medieval theology: (1) the Canones of Orange (529) were unknown from the tenth to the sixteenth century, (2) a work of Pelagius was assigned to Jerome, and (3) some works which in fact were semi-Pelagian, were ascribed to Augustine.27 However, precisely this issue illustrates how the auctoritates method dismantles itself the dangers observed by McGrath. The Pelagian auctoritas asserts that freewill can keep the commandments, but, according to Duns, our free will depends as such on the presence of God and the dynamics of his grace. Here, we meet just an exemplary way in which Scholastic authors use an auctoritas. Duns reads the sentence which in fact comes from Pelagius, as an auctoritas derived from Jerome. Therefore, he interpets it as implying a truth which becomes evident, when it is interpreted within Duns’ own framework of thought. According to this way thinking, there is no pronblem at all, but McGrath simply misses the medieval way of thinking. If the actual origin of this sentence were to have been known, one would have interpreted it differently; one would not have considered it as an auctoritas. Therefore, because of the special role of auctoritates, complications like (2) and (3) do not arise at all, let alone that they are disturbing. They disturbed McGrath, because he reads such texts within a modern context, and in a modern way, but they are medieval texts. An auctoritas which seems to confuse us, is not dangerous, if the author knows how to solve the problem posed by its contents.28 Alister McGrath simply misses the medieval way of reading and thinking. In studying the history of Christian theology we have to master the insights of the history of medieval logic and philosophy. In general, Peter Lombard’s identification was interpreted the other way around: the love which moves the will to the meritorious act, is the Holy Spirit. When God accepts our act, he in fact accepts himself, for he lives in us. Duns 26 27 28

See Lectura II 28.12. McGrath, Iustitia Dei I, 71-5. Cf. also Peter Lombard, Sententiae II 36. Compare §§ 6.7-6.8.

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reads this interpre­ta­tion as the view, that there is no need for a dispositi­on of love, because the act of love is the immediate creation of the Spirit. Thus, meritorious­ness is obviously located in love.29 Duns proceeds by an exten­si­ve discus­sion and criticism of this interpretati­on,30 which clarifies the connection between the languages of justification and that of acceptance. The Bible freely speaks of human beings becoming accepted by God or being pleasing in the eyes of God.31 By God’s acceptance the injustice is taken away so that someone who is un-just (non-iustus) becomes just (iustus).32 Scotus’ interpretation of Lombard is nuanced. He assumes that in this issue the Magister has not expressed himself in an entirely adequate way.33 He embarks on a comparative study for which also Sententiae I 37 and II 26-27 are adduced. His conclusion runs as follows: Lombard holds that God lives in the elect by way of his grace; more particularly, as Holy Spirit he inhabits their soul as his temple.34 What happens in justification is, that in virtue of the mediati­on of grace and the interior presence of the Trinity – more specifi­cally, the Holy Spirit – the will produces an act in such a way that the Spirit makes the soul ‘graceful’ by a disposition and by inhabitation. The acts of faith and hope are elicited. The references to Sententiae II 26-27 not only elucidate Scotus’ reading of Lombard, but also his own theologi­cal language. Love (caritas) is that by which someone really cares for God (carum habere) and holds him dearly. Love is an essential property of God; grace, however, is not. Gratia is that property by which God loves someone (although not all God’s love is gratia). This grace is situated on the level of his acts.35 Grace cannot be essential to human beings either. Although in Latin, persons can be said to be gratus, it usually means that they have received grace by (‘found grace in the eyes of’) someone. So, ‘being graceful and graced’ (compare the German word Begnadi­gung) is not struc­tu­rally related to human beings.

29

30 31 32 33 34 35

In medieval theological Latin, ‘meritorius’ has a ring which is quite different from the modern theological term ‘meritorious.’ See also McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 109-10. Merit was, by definition, a consequence of grace (Augustine): what matters, is what serves (meretur) God. See Lectura I 17.9-30. See Dettloff, Die Lehre von der acceptatio divina bei Scotus, 3-4. See Lectura I 17.22 (iustus and peccator are opposite terms) and I 17.24-25. For Reportatio Parisiensis I 17, cf. Dettloff, Die Lehre von der accepatatio divina bei Scotus, 62 ff. See Lectura I 17.35. See Lectura I 17.32-40. See Lectura II 27.5.

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Like glory and glorifi­cation, grace and ‘gratification’ do not belong to our human essence; ontologically, they belong to the level of possibili­ties­.36 Our final aim or end can only be reached per potentiam, not per essenti­am.37 It beco­mes clear why for Scotus grace and the meritori­ous act are intrinsi­cally connec­ted, and why he refers to the disposi­tion of love as a faculty which can be used by the will. Gratia disponit ad actus meritori­os.38 For this reason, the love for God as present in salvation history differs from the eschatolo­gical love for God. ­Grace essentially is a virtue, or to put it more precisely, gratia is in fact caritas, and caritas is that virtue (virtus) by which the Holy Spirit lives in us. This subjective grace really present in our hearts is the way in which we are inhabited by the Spirit.39 6.5

Acceptatio divina

In his early thought Duns is already a specialist in preliminary questions, and he also applies this talent at the issue of the acceptatio divina.40 Struc­tural analysis comes natural to him, but he has also trained this ability as he considers it the Achilles heel of theology at the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth century. Theology at the turn of the twentieth and twenty-first century is in a similar conditi­on. It is important to know what exactly Scotus wants to clarify by his a priori analysis. In the context of Lectura I 17 it is a specific act of the triune God. He ‘makes graceful’ (gratificare as gratum facere, parallel to iustifica­re as iustum facere), and he does this by making someone perform an act of love for him. For Scotus this is a point of departure given by faith. 36

37 38 39 40

See Lectura II 26.9: ‘Gloria non est in essentia animae ut distinguitur contra potentias, sed est in potentiis; igitur et gratia.’ Cf. Lectura II 26.12: ‘Ideo solum ponitur gratia, ut habeatur actus meritorius. Igitur tantum ponitur in anima secundum potentiam illam secundum quam respicit actum meritorium. Et haec potentia est voluntas.’ See Lectura II 26.11. See Lectura II 26.13. At the end of Lectura II 26-27 a theme from Lectura II 25 recurs: the act of love is constituted by both will and object. Here, Duns refers to Lectura I 17.31-42. In addition to Dettloff’s fine monograph, see also Seeberg, Die Theologie des Scotus, 300-21, Vignaux, Justification et prédestination au xive siècle, 12-23, and Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 89-129. Consult, in particular, Klein, Die Charitaslehre des Johannes Duns Skotus, Aschendorff 1925, idem ‘Die Überlegenheit der Charitaslehre des Johannes Duns Skotus,’ Franziskanische Studien 16 (1929) 141 ff., and idem, ‘Nochmals die Charitaslehre des sel. Johannes Duns Skotus,’ Franziskani­sche Studien 24 (1937) 87 ff. and 364 ff., 25 (1938) 178 ff. and 259 ff.

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This point raises the question why God does this by means of the disposi­tion of love. Scotus’ clarification presupposes, as we have already pointed out, that the love required for ‘being graced’ must be an act of love, which is accepted by God. Duns proceeds by explaining what kind of act is accepted by God. For Scotus it must be a human act of love, which means that all essential properties and necessary conditions for human willing have to be respec­ted. It is clear that divine acceptance is also an act of will, of God’s will, which means that all essential characteris­tics and necessary conditi­ons for divine willing must also be respected. Although the structu­re of willing determines the structure of the act of love, the will is not capable of producing a meritorious act merely because it produces an act of will. There must be an act of love, the will needs the disposition of love in order to pose a meritorious act.41 Scotus’ main thesis is that the will and the disposition of love concur for produ­cing the meritorious act:42 I say that in order to elicit the act of love which is meritorious, the will and the dispostion of love concur as two partial agents. They concur as two agents which are perfect in their respective causality. This means that the causality of the one agent is not derived from the other, and that one agent does not perfect the other in its acting according to its causality.43 This twofold causality, howe­ver, does not cause a two­fold effect. The act of loving God which is in fact produced, is one single integrated effect.44 Duns primarily analyzes the act of love as an act.45 After that he turns to the meritoriousness of the act. When one asks: what makes this act meritori­ous, Duns’ characte­risti­c answer is:

41

42 43

44 45

The issue concerns the inadmissibility of love as a disposition. We have to pay attention to Lectura I 17.56: ‘[...] quam causalitatem habet habitus respectu actus meritorii, quia voluntas non habens habitum talem, non potest in actum meritorium, et habens potest.’ Cf. Lectura I 17.57. Lectura I 17.71: ‘Dico quod voluntas cum habitu caritatis concurrunt ut duo agentia partialia ad actum diligendi eliciendum qui est meritorius. Et concurrunt ut duo agentia perfecta in causalitatibus suis, ita quod causalitas unius non est ab alia, nec unum est perfectio alterius in agendo secundum causalitatem suam.’ See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 90-1 and 113-16. See Lectura I 17.62-68. Lectura I 17.71-88. See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 90-101.

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I say: the reason for its being meritorious – that is, that aspect of the act of love insofar as it is meritorious – is not somet­hing that is caused, but only something that is related to the divine will accepting the act of love caused by will and love. If God were to accept someone’s lifting a straw, that would be meritorious. Under the Law sacrificing animals to God was meritorious, because in that time it was accepted by God; now it is not meritorious any more, since it is not accepted by God.46 Meritum and acceptance are connected in a radical­ly Augusti­ni­an way, yet the point of his move from the human act to divine acceptance is not divine arbitrari­ness – as many have assumed who think Scotus’ thought is voluntaristic – but the indepen­dence and freedom of God which cannot be manipulated. One cannot consult oneself alone in order to perform an act which is supposed to make one accepted by God. If we want and need to be accepted by him, the first question must be what is acceptable to him. Meritoriousness is not our invention; we cannot make God to do what we like. When this aspect is safeguarded, it does not follow, on the other hand, that God’s accep­tance itself is not properly object-directed­. God is free, but not whimsical. It is true that the difference between morally neutral acts and good acts depends, in its practical application, on God’s acts. And of course, lifting a straw or sacrificing a pigeon or a cow, just as keeping the sabbath on Saturday – and not on Monday – does not have an intrinsic value by which they must be accepted by God (that would only be the case if the reality implied in these commandments were necessary itself, and that clearly cannot be so). This does not mean, however, that God could be pleased by anything. The actual love for God has a contingent nature, but God’s acceptance is based on the human dispositi­on of being lovable. Scotus adds that his solution is only true de potentia ordinata. This means that the proposition The will and the disposition of love cause the meritorious act of love is not a necessary truth. Although it is universally true in our present state (in salvation history), it is not necessarily true. Unlike Aristotle, Scotus does not identify universali­ty with necessity. In Scotus’ own words: Nevertheless the will can have a meritorious act in virtue of absolute power (de potentia absoluta), for God has elected the soul itself prior to its having the disposition of love. Thus he wants the soul’s beatitude first, and because of that – after that – he wants it to have the disposition of 46

For Lectura I 17.89, see Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 100-1.

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love, by which it can obtain beatitude. Just as a doctor wants health prior to the potion which makes healthy.47 In this case, the end sanctifies the means – without making them necessary. Duns does not say that the meritorious act is not necessarily an act of love; he only says that the act of love is not necessarily based on the disposition of love. Dettloff’s evaluation is very well defenda­ble: The ground for merit (ratio meriti) is the acceptatio divina. Since divine acceptance is an act of will, its goodness and reasonableness can only be understood in the relation between the divine will and its specific object, which in turn must be interpreted within the context of the Heilsordnung of actual salvation history. The quality of the meritorious act can only be a matter of love. God himself is the object of that love; he is the Loved One accepting the act of love. So in the eschatolo­gical happiness of a complete love for God the meritorious act reaches out for God himself! The theme of Lectura I 17 is the caritas by which we love God and the neighbor and Lectura I 17 pars 1 focuses on the status of an act to be accepted by God who is love himself (§ 6.4). We see the expansion of will, for such an act is seen as such as an act of will. Duns Scotus’ basic analysis reveals that it is a volition or act of willing, filled by love on the basis of the disposition of love. Reportatio Parisisensis I 17 focuses more on the acceptatio divina and its nature, seeing it particularly as an acceptatio personae, which is as such an acceptatio ad gratiam: in grace from grace to grace. The issue of the ratio meriti becomes the ratio acceptationis. Lectura I 17 had already made clear that the ratio meriti lies in the acceptatio divina itself. The issue of merit is personalized. In sum, there is no reason at all to accuse Scotus of Pelagianism. Such a qualification is a-historical in two respects: leaving aside the historical Pelagius and leaving aside the historical Scotus. It is also clear that God, declaring someone to be a iustus, is not detached from reality. In fact, a human being has to be really lovable and loving, if God is to accept him. From Reportatio Parisiensis I 17 we can see that, for Duns, this acceptance of an act of love has to be seen as an acceptatio personae and an acceptatio ad gratiam. Meritoriousness simply consists in the goodness of a mutual love in the relation between God and man (Quodlibet xvii). Scotus’ way of treating the subject is theozentrisch-personal (Dettloff). God turns to human beings, free and giving grace. In this view, there is neither room for Pelagia­nism or semi-Pelagianism, nor for nomina­lism or Lutheranism. 47

Lectura I 17.102. For Dettloff’s evaluative conclusions, see his Die Lehre von der acceptatio divina bei Scotus, 54-8, 96-104, 120-5, 186-90 and 217-29.

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Duns Scotus’ doctrine of justification is both Catholic and Reformed. It strikes a constructive ecumeni­cal middle position, which present day theolo­gy seriously needs. 6.6

Grace and Sin

Grace means to reach out to God, to long for God as he is in his nature, in his radiant identity, but God’s nature is primarily knowing and willing. Partaking in God’s nature particularly implies contact with God’s knowledge, will and love. According to Augustine, sinning is willing what is forbidden, what is incompatible with God’s nature and with his grace. As far as willing is something positive, it is not sin, for if it was accepted by God, it would not be sin. There is sin, when someone’s actual willing deviates from his rule, since this act – which he does against the commandment of God – would not be a sin, if it had been prescribed by God. Hence, to sin is a formal defect, for sin is to will what deviates from a rule and runs counter to the law of God.48 This fine summary of John Duns’ early thinking on sin is a comment on Augustine: Sinning is forbidden willing.49 To sin is doing something, for in sinning we do something wrong, but primarily a sin which is an act, is an act of will, and the will is free. How does Duns look upon the relation between sin and freedom? In Lectura II 34-37.72 we find a crisp demarca­tion:

48

49

Lectura II 34-37.34: ‘Unde in quantum est aliquid positivum, non est peccatum, quia si illud acciperetur a Deo, non esset peccatum; sed peccatum est quando voluntas alicuius in actu suo non coformat se regulae suae, quia si ille actus – quem facit contra praeceptum Dei – esset praeceptus a Deo, non esset peccatum. Ergo: privatio est formae et contra legem Dei velle, est peccatum.’ The basic rule is: ‘Si illud acciperetur a Deo, non esset peccatum,’ and ‘Si ille actus – quem facit contra praeceptum Dei – esset praeceptus a Deo, non esset peccatum.’ Lectura II 34-37.34: ‘Peccare est velle vetitum.’ See Augustine, De duabus animabus, chapter 11, § 15.

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The will is free and it is possible that it wills for itself something pleasant and that it loves itself by concupiscent love as well as by friendly love. Both acts are in its power, both the inordinate act as well as the orderly act. Therefore, the evil of guilt which is the inordinate act, can be something in the will.50 Willing can be good willing and it can be bad willing. Both good willing and bad willing are willing in open and contingent reality, where willing faces real synchronic alternatives, and, therefore, both willing in general and sinning in particular are free and acts of freewill. So, it is clear for Duns Scotus that sin is an act of will of a particular kind: Sin is formally incompatible with a right act of the will, which is its contingent cause. There­fore, a sin corrupts in a non-necessary way in virtue of the will.51 A just act is also caused by the will in a non-necessary way. So, how exactly are sin and the nature of the will related? Sins can be multiplied without limit and yet cannot destroy human nature. They cannot destroy what is essential: The will can elicit acts in an unlimited way and every sin whatsoever takes away the righteousness an act ought to have, but it corrupts no first act, nor grace by itself.52 Sin does not elimi­na­te the will. A first act – primary reality – cannot be destroyed, although the bearer of a first act – in this case it is the will as existing power – can corrupt an agent and can make things worse for an agent. Sin destroys righteou­sness in actual willing, whereas it should have had such justice.53 So, where does sin come from and who is responsible for it? 50

51 52

53

Lectura II 34-37.72: ‘Voluntas est libera, et potest velle sibi commodum et amare se amore concupiscentiae sicut amore amicitiae. Et in potestate sua est uterque actus, et actus inordinatus sicut et actus ordinatus. Igitur malum culpae quod est actus inordinatus, potest esse in voluntate.’ Lectura II 34-37.42: ‘Peccatum formaliter repugnat actui recto voluntatis, cuius causa contingens est voluntas. Igitur peccatum aliquid non necessario corrumpit de voluntate.’ Lectura II 34-37.60: ‘Voluntas potest elicere actus in infinitum, et quodlibet peccatum privat rectitudinem sui actus quam deberet habere, sed nullum actum primum corrumpit nec gratiam per se.’ See Lectura II 34-37.61-62.

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I ans­wer that the possibility of sinning can be seen as a possibility in the sense of being structurally before the act,54 just as to sin formally expresses: to be defective, and materi­ally an act and a way of acting of its agent – namely, freely.55 I also say that the possibility of sinning is not something – by taking ‘possibility’ in the sense of an ontological charac­te­ristic which is to be distinguished from actuality. Here, ‘po­wer’ is used in the sense of princi­ple and the modality of a principle: the whole of the principle is the will which is so that a defect can inhere in it, and a power to sin taken in this sense has been accepted by God.56 Although we can fail in willing and in what we will, it would be absurd to blame God for giving us the splendid gift of the will. Sin cannot originate in God and it cannot come from God. On the one hand, doing wrong is a possibility which follows from the fact that our acting embodies freewill in open and contingent reality. On the other hand, even guilt presupposes what is good. Why guilt is guilt, can only be answered in terms of what is good. Once more Duns follows Anselm, when he states that the possibility of sinning does not belong to the definition of free­dom: According to the first sense of can it is no component of freedom, and Anselm speaks in this way, but when can according to the second sense is linked with freedom it comes from God.57

54 55 56

57

For this reason, as an ontological possibility. Cf. Lectura I 39.57 and 60. See CF 132-3 and 138-41. Compare Lectura II 34-37.145 and Lectura II 38.12. Lectura II 44.2: ‘Respondeo quod sicut peccare formaliter dicit deficere, et materialiter actum et modum agendi ipsius agentis (scilicet, libere), sic potentia peccandi potest accipi pro ‘potentia ante actum.’ Et dico potentia peccandi ante actum nihil est, accipiendo potentiam ut est differentia entis, distincta contra actum. Hic accipitur potentia pro principio et modo principii: totum hoc principium est voluntas, talis cui potest defectus inesse, et potentia peccandi sic accepta est a Deo.’ For Ordinatio II 44, cf. Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 459-63 and 98-100. Lectura II 44.2: ‘Sed potentia primo modo non est pars libertatis, et sic loquitur Anselmus; sed potentia secundo modo cum libertate tali est a Deo.’ Anselm discusses the thesis that freedom implies the possibilitty of sinning, supported by Augustine, in De libertate arbitrii, chapter 1. Cf. Augustine, De libero arbitrio I xvi, and idem, De actis cum Felice Manicheo II iii.

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The possibility and the ability to sin are not conditions of freedom, but in its own way the will is a gift of God.58 Moreover, will can only be freewill and this freedom can be directed to something good or to something wrong. Duns Scotus also follows Anselm in his doctrine of original sin (peccatum originale).59 Original sin is essentially and formally a sin: Original sin is a lack of original justice which should have been there.60 So, original sin formally is the lack of original justice. When original justice is missing, the effect is an inner rebellion, which appears in the concrete form of concupiscen­tia. Original sin is incompatible with gratia gratum faciens. If original justice were to have remained, there would have been only ‘graci­ousness’ (in the state of innocence). Although gratia does not entail original justice, the loss of original justice means the loss of grace, because that which deprives of original justice, consequently, also deprives of grace.61 Guilt is rooted in the will, in what we will do; we can only be subjects of guilt and sin because we are willing persons.62 In the same way, original sin is a matter of the will, and, despite Augustine and Freud, we do not contract it from our libido: Because libidinous propagation followed this lack of original justice, for this reason it is concomitantly contracted because of libidinous propagation.63 58

59 60

61 62 63

Compare Lectura II 44.2 with Anselm, De libertate arbitrii, 1. Anselm is also cited in Lectura I II 34-37.98. For the different meanings of the concepts of will and freedom, see also Lectura I 3.21 and 29-34 and Lectura I 8.79-81. See Lectura II 30-32, particularly Lectura II 30-32:47: ‘Alia est via de peccato originali, quae sumitur ab Anselmo.’ Lectura II 30-32.48: ‘Peccatum originale est carentia iustitiae orginalis cum debito habendi eam.’ Cf. Lectura II 30-32.48: ‘Hoc autem docet Anselmus, ubi supra cap. 27, quod formaliter dicit “iustitiae debitae nuditatem factam per inobedientiam Adae’’.’ See Anselm, De conceptu virginali, chapter 27. Cf. Giles of Rome, De peccato orginali, chapter 2, and Roger of Marston, De statu naturae lapsae, quaestio 1. Lectura II 30-32.53: ‘Ideo quod privat iustitiam orginalem, privat et gratiam ex consequen­ti.’ See Lectura II 30-32.58 and 60. Lectura II 30-32.63: ‘Quia ad hanc carentiam sequebatur libidinosa propagatio, ideo propter libidinosam propagationem concomitanter contrahitur.’

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Original sin is propagated (concomi­tanter) with the biologi­cal reproduction, the orgasm of the libido inclu­ded.64 A sin is an actus deformis, an act which lacks a certain form or quality: I answer that, on the one hand, a sin by which someone is said to sin, is called deformed sin, when we talk of a sin of commission, and in this way someone is said to be in sin actually. On the other hand, someone is said to be in sin dispositionally, when he has sinned as far as he remains to be guilty until his penitence.65 When a sin has been committed (the peccatum commissionis), it leaves its traces behind. There is not only actual sin, but also habitual sin (sinning actuali­ter and habitualiter). After the act of sin one remains in dispositio­nal sin until the remission of sin; one remains liable to be guilty (reatus) until the poeni­tentia washes away the traces of sin. According to Duns Scotus, grace is neces­sary, if in the present state of actual and dispositional sins (pro isto statu post lapsum) we are to keep ourselves from sinning. However, grace which is concretely the disposition of love, is not as such necessary for produ­cing the act meriting eternal life. Why is that so? Although in the present condition grace is indispensable for the sinner, so that the proposition The will is only without sin because of grace is universally true, it is not necessarily true. If this proposition were necessarily true, its negation: The will is sinless without having received grace would be a contradiction. This is not the case, for a sinless man does not have to be made gracious. The universal truth of the first proposition is based on factual divine policy (ex ordinatione divina). It is grace by which forgiveness of actual and original sin is presently given.66 What, then, is the hard core of sin? Traditionally, it is illustrated by the example of the first sin, committed by angels (Lucifer in particular) and it is identified as arrogance and pride (super­bia). In his response to this question Duns once more emphasizes that sin is an act of will.67 He offers a sober and exact analysis: the primary sin is an act in which something is wrong. Both human and angelic persons live in a context in which God 64 65

66 67

Compare Lectura II 30-32.25 and Sententiae II 30-32. Reflect on the English term propagation which also means: propagation of light. See Lectura II 28.6: ‘Respondeo quod peccatum quo aliquis dicitur peccare, dicitur uno modo actus deformis, loquendo de peccato commissionis, et sic dicitur aliquis esse in peccato actualiter. Aliter dicitur aliquis esse in peccato habitualiter postquam peccavit secundum quod reatus remanet usque ad poenitentiam.’ See Lectura II 28.8. See Lectura II 6.24-26.

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demands to be loved; and he has every right to do that. Loving God is good for everyone. When self-love becomes hyper­trophic, it does no good anymore.68 Again, Duns recurs to Anselm. He defines the sin of concupiscence as an affectio commodi. Here the affectio iustitiae is lost. If we enjoy something (delectatio) without maintaining justice, with that which God has given we move in a direction God does not go. So, sin is basically inordinate self-love and uncontrolled desire of happiness as what is most enjoyable.69 A good will derives its goodness prima­ri­ly from God.70 Polman, among many others, is wrong in ascribing to Duns Scotus the view that he ‘leaves no room for a doctrine of original sin which would compromise the freedom of human self-determinati­on,’ since the will is only supposed to be bound by what the intellect tells it to do.71 In fact, like Anselm, Duns believes in the existen­ce of universal original sin. He has a doctrine of original sin and rejects human selfdeterminati­on in the sense of autonomy. He is also convinced that sin affects human freedom and he does not think that the will must do what the intellect tells it.

68 69

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71

See Lectura II 6.27: ‘Ille actus fuit actus volendi amoris sui immoderate, quem sequebatur immoderata concupiscentia et inordinata.’ See Lectura II 6.43: ‘Inordina­tum amorem sui et immodera­tam concupiscentiam beatitudinis ut summe delecta­bilis.’ Compare the analysis on which this conclusion is based in Lectura II 6.37-38 and 41-42. The Anselmian train of thought is elaborated on in Lectura II 6.36 and 39-40. In Lectura II 6.36, it is read: ‘Respondeo quod affectio iustitiae, sive sit infusa sive innata, ipsa inclinat voluntatem ad volendum sicut ipsa debet velle. Debet autem velle secundum conformitatem voluntati divinae in ratione volendi.’ The contingency of freewill also entails the possibility of sin. See Lectura II 6.39: ‘In appetitu naturali non est praedicta aliqua immo­ deratio (ut nimis cito appetat), quoniam appetitus naturalis non est actus elicitus. Sed ista immoderatio est secundum libertatem voluntatis (nimis cito accelerantis), quia voluntas sic libera habet unde potest moderari et regulare affectionem suam. Et ideo peccavit non utendo illa regula.’ Polman, ‘Johannes Duns Scotus,’ Christelijke Encyclopedie II, Kampen 21957, 520. In his announcement of CF, Dr. J. Broekhuis remarked that a Reformed theologian should take into account that Duns Scotus denies original sin. Apart from the fact that, of course, the theme of original sin does not occur in CF which is a commentary on Lectura I 39, Duns simply does not deny original sin; on the contrary, he only rejects certain explanations of original sin.

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Martin Luther on Justification

The doctrine of justification is not just a dogmatic theory. It has been hailed as the shibboleth of the Reformation. If the identity of the Christian faith is at stake, when we focus on justification – and during the terrible sixteenth-century conflicts both the Popes and the great Reformers seem to be aware of that tension –, this doctrine must be the cor ecclesiae, and neither the doctrine of predestination, nor ecclesiology. We must keep the major dilemma’s of this doctrine in mind, when we are to evaluate the contribu­tions of Duns Scotus. From the edges of civilization the voice of Martin Luther resounded all over Europe. He had to fly himself and on 1 July 1523 the martyrs Henry Vos and John of Esschen sang amidst the flames on the Market of Brussels.72 Martin Luther offered a very personal diagnosis of the existential problematic of his own age: the main issue is to be just and righteous (iustitia, iustificatio). For this diagnosis we turn to his important lectures on Paul’s Letter to the Romans.73 We may think that we have solved this problem of being O.K., if others are convinced that we are O.K. (coram hominibus). Such righteousness is in fact collective business. However, in the meantime, in Western culture one had conquered a new sense of selfconsciousness individuality. Medieval faith, culture and thinking developed the basis of new proces­ses of individualization, but now some circles started to see individualization in a new light. The, a new possible option of justifying oneself by oneself presents itself. Luther addresses himself to this new possibility of self-justification. Luther’s personal try out does not prove to be a happy one. It did not work for him. He faces its unhappy end. His own conclusion makes clear that the illness of his time has to be sought in this area: self-justification is the new topical deceit. Self-justification and self-satisfaction boil down to self-deception. Self-justification is presumptuous and such pride and arrogance and pretentiousness are disgusting for Luther: This is why (if I may speak for myself) I detest this word ‘justice’. To hear it pains me more than if someone were to rob me. And yet, the lawyers 72 73

See C. Ch. G. Visser, ‘Henricus Vos,’ Biografisch Lexicon I, Kampen 1978, 411-12. In August 1523 Martin Luther reacted with his first hymn: Ein neuwes Lied wir heben an. The story of the discovery and critical edition of Luther’s early biblical commentaries reads as a thriller. They are the key writings of the Reformation: K.A. Meisinger (ed.), Dictata super Psalterium, WA (= Weimarer Ausgabe) 55; Johann Ficker (ed.), In epistolam Pauli ad Romanos, WA 56 (1938); J.A. F. Knaake (ed.), In epistolam Pauli ad Galatas. M. Lutheri commentarius, WA 2 (1884), and Johann Ficker (ed.), In epistolam Pauli ad Hebraeos, WA 57.3 (1939).

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have it constantly on their lips. No group of people on this earth are more unteachable in this matter than the lawyers and the folk who harp upon their ‘good intenti­on’ or consider themselves to be of superior intelligence.74 It is quite clear what causes Luther’s indignation. The juriste – the law experts who as lawyers sing the praise of the law – and the folks who harp upon their good intentions (the boneintentionarii) and who enjoy their own sublime argumentations, know all this. Luther’s own experience tells quite a different story and he knows very well the feelings on both sides: the feeling that he has made it himself, and the feeling that he has not made it himself: I have often had the experience with myself and many others that when we were right, God laughed at us in our righteousness. And yet I know people who dared to say: I know that being right is on my side. But God does not pay attention to this (ibidem). It is just this kind of people (gens) of scholars of law and justice who do not have any idea of justice. However, what does Luther’s personal idea of justice (iustitia) consist in? Morning and evening prayer make us clear every day that ‘if we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us’ (I John 1:8).75 We have to be healed. We are ill and the Church is a hospital. For Luther, the logic of existential faith mirrors itself in the parable of the Good Samaritan: It is a mistake to think that this evil can be healed by good works, because experience shows that in every good we do there remains that concupiscence toward evil, and nobody is free from it, not even an infant a day old. But it is by the mercy of God that this evil, though it remains, is not reckoned to those who fervently call upon him to set them free. With caution 74

75

Pauck, Luther. Lectures on Romans, 329. On Romans 12:2, see Weimarer Ausgabe 56, 449: ‘Inde (ut de me loquar) vocabulum istud iustitia tanta est mihi nausea audire, ut non tam dolerem, si quis rapinam mihi faceret. Et tamen sonat iuristis semper in ore. [...] Non est gens in mundo in hac re indoctior quam iuristae et boneintentionarii et sublimate rationis.’ On Romans 4:4-6, see Weimarer Ausgabe 56, 271: ‘Hinc fit, ut si dixerimus nos peccatum non habere, mendaces simus.’ This is preceded by: ‘Hoc enim malum, cum sit re vera peccatum, quod Deus remittit per suam non-imputationem ex misericordia omnibus, qui ipsum agnoscunt et confitentur et odiunt et ab eo sanari petunt.’ Psalm 32 simply dominates the commentary on Romans 4 and Luther also refers to Romans 7 and 8.

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and circumspection, they will readily do good works, because they eagerly long to be justified. [...] It is as with a sick man who believes his physician as he assures him that he will most certainly get well. In the meantime, he obeys his orders in the hope of recovery and abstains from whatever is forbidden to him, lest he slow up the promised cure and get worse again, until finally some day the physician accomplishes what he so confidently predicted. [...] In the same way, Christ, our good Samaritan, brought the man who was half dead (semivivum), his patient, to an inn and took care of him (Luke 10:30ff.) and commenced to heal him, having first promised to him that he would give him absolutely perfect health unto eternal life. [...] Now can we say that he is perfectly righteous? No; but he is at the same time both a sinner (peccator) and righteous, a sinner in fact but righteous by virtue of the reckoning (reputatio) and the certain promise of God that he will redeem him from sin in order, in the end, to make him perfectly whole and sound.76 Luther’s criticisms of the theologi scolastici are based on these insights: If this is so, then I must say either that I have never understood the matter or that the Scholastic theologians did not deal adequately with sin and grace. For they imagine that original sin, just like actual sin, is entirely taken away, as if sins were something that could be moved in the flick of an eyelash, as darkness is by the light.77 It is clear that, according to Luther, the Scholastic theologians do not deal with the theme of grace and sin properly. Their way of theologizing is incompatible with what ‘the old holy Fathers Augustin and Ambrose’ have to say, ‘but the Scholastics follow the method of Aristotle in his Ethics, and he bases sinfulness and righteousness and likewise the extent of their actualization on what a person does’ (ibidem). By such a view the Christian faith of repentence and confession becomes superfluous.78 The alternative position also caused much confusion in Luther’s soul: I fought with myself, because I did not know that though forgiveness is indeed real, sin is not taken away except in hope, that is, that it is in the 76 77 78

Pauck, Luther. Lectures on Romans, 128. See Weimarer Ausgabe 56, 272-3. Ibidem. See Weimarer Ausgabe 56, 273. See Weimarer Ausgabe 56, 274. On the philosophical and the ‘juridical’ interpretation of (in)iustiti­a, see Weimarer Ausgabe 56, 287.

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process of being taken away by the gift of grace which starts this removal, so that it is only not reckoned as sin. For this reason, it is sheer madness to say that man can love God above everything by his own powers and he can live up to the commandment, in terms of the substance of the deed but not in terms of the intention of him who gave it, because he does not do so in the state of grace. O you fools, you pig-theologians. So, then, grace was not necessary except in connection with a new exaction over and above the law! For if we can fulfill the law by our own powers, as they say, grace is not necessary for the fulfillment of the law.79 According to Holl, Luther’s view on justification was entirely new. Luther’s ‘analytical’ justification can be characte­rized as opposed to synthe­tic (or declaratory or forensic) justification. For older Lutheranism, as Holl sees it, justification means ‘really making just. God does not justify the sinner by means of a synthetic judgment, imputa­tively, [...] but in relation to what he in reality is or certainly will be.’80 The resem­blance between the Lutheran conception of justifica­tion as conceived by Alister McGra­th and the medieval conception as conceived by Holl is stri­king; yet Holl only discerns a major dissemblance and his characteriza­tion of both par­ties – early Luthera­nism and medieval theolo­gy – is exactly the opposite of that of McGrath, since what is true justification for McGrath is not real at all in terms of what justification is for Holl. Karl Barth proposed an interes­ting solution-in-between. To his mind, Holl’s interpreta­tion of Luther was terrible; he would rather become Roman-Catholic instead of remaining Lutheran, if justifica­ti­on were to refer to something existing in reality. Obviously, there seems to be some conceptual space between reading Luther by Holl and by Barth. It is practically that space in which both the historical Luther and main stream medieval theology operate. So, I do not consider Troeltsch’ conviction that Luther is in some important respects medieval as irrealistic, for there are both continuity and discontinuity to be located, both in Luther and his strict followers, and in main Counter Reformation theologians like Cajetan, Tapper, Pigge, and the like, for, as far as Luther is concer­ned, we have also to point at quite different ontological parameters: Luther’s necessi­tarianism and his doctrine of the two realms (zwei Reiche-Lehre) are simply not medieval theories. As far as the doctrine of justification is concerned, Luther vehemently criticized his opponents. Can these opponents have been medieval voices? Who 79 80

Pauck, Luther. Lectures on Romans, 128-9. See Weimarer Ausgabe 56, 274: ‘O stulti, O Sawtheologen.’ Berkouwer, Geloof en rechtvaardiging, 15.

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are the ‘disgu­sting theologians’? According to Küng, the nominalists must have been meant. However, the critical apparatuses of Ficker and Vogelsang mention Duns Scotus, Ockham and Biel. According to Wilhelm Pauck, the expression theologi scolastici refers to Duns Scotus and Gabriel Biel.81 (1) Man can love God above everything by his own powers is considered to be the crucial proposition and is considered to have been defended by Scotus, Pierre d’Ailly and Biel.82 Are these identifications probable? Such identifications can only be possible, if the indicated theories are medieval theories at all. Biel is the only author who can be linked up with Luther’s own theological studies, because some of his teachers were pupils of Biel. He is also the only Renaissance theologian of such lists, for the new Renaissance drive to a moderate anthropological autonomy is not only to be found with Italian huma­nists, but also in Biel’s thought. Here, the notion of by his own natu­re/naturaliter is crucial. Luther uses the terms ex viribus suis and naturaliter alternately: Quodcirca mera deliria sunt, que dicuntur quod homo ex viribus suis possit Deum diligere super omnia.83 In the same part of Luther’s commentary we also read: Deum diligi posse naturaliter/God can be loved in a natural way,84 but where can we find this position in medieval theology? Can we identify ths statement?

81

82

83

84

Pauck, Luther. Lectures on Romans, 128. Scotus’ Opus Oxoniense IV 1.6 and IV 141 and Biel’s Sententiae IV 4.1 are referred to. Alister McGrath does not offer an alternative approach in his Luther’s Theology of the Cross, and Intellectual Origins, neither in Iustita Dei I-II. Pauck, Luther. Lectures on Romans, 129-30. See Weimarer Ausgabe 56, 275. Man can live up to the commandment in terms of the substance of the deed, but not in terms of the intention of him who gave it is considered to have been defended by Giles of Rome, Ockham, Pierre d’Ailly, Jean Gerson and Biel. Martin Luther, Die Römerbriefvorlesung, in Erich Vogelsang (ed.), Luthers Werke in Auswahl V, Berlin 31963 (Kurt Aland), 242 (WA 56, 274). Cf. Vogelsang (ed.), Luthers Werke V 242 (WA 56, 275): ‘Deum diligi posse naturaliter.’ Luther, Die Römerbriefvorlesung, in Vogelsang (ed.), op. cit., 242 (WA 56, 275): ‘Deum diligi posse naturaliter.’

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The statement (2) Deus diligendus est super omnia is a cornerstone of Duns Scotus’ ethics, but when we translate this proposition, a specific linguistic phenomenon has to be observed. According to Martin Luther, (2) means: (3) God can be loved above all. However, that is evidently not the meaning Duns Scotus attaches to (2), for with Scotus (2) has to be translated as follows: (4) God ought to be loved above all.85 In classical Latin the gerundiv joined by a denial can be translated with can, but in late-medieval Latin the gerundiv without non can also be translated with can. Of course, this linguistic feature does not imply that the gerundiv has always to be translated with can. However, in (2) it must be translated with ought and in other cases it must be translated with shall. However, how does it function in the ethics of Duns Scotus?86 The Scotian thesis under consideration is: Deus diligendus est naturaliter super omnia. The first term which has to be paid attention to is ‘naturaliter.’ ‘Naturaliter’ qualifies (2) Deus diligendus est super omnia, but this qualification remarkably differs from its Renaissance usage. In Duns Scotus’ discussion of (2), it has an epistemological function. ‘Naturaliter’ is a term of episte­mic assessment and the question to be posed is whether (2) can be proven, and if so, in which way? If a proposition can be proven naturaliter, it can be the conclusion of a ratio naturalis, but what is a ratio naturalis? Necessary arguments or rationes necessariae are characterized by the twofold requirement of the necessity of the premisses and of the logical necessity of the derivation: propositional necessity and validity. Necessary arguments (rationes necessariae) are to be defined as follows: 85 86

See § 5.3, Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 64-5, and DPhil 438-40. See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, chapter 2. Cf. DS, chapter 4, and DPhil, chapter 12.

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A ratio necessaria is a valid argument in which necessary conclusions are validly deduced from necessary premisses. With regard to necessary arguments two requirements are at stake: first, the necessity of the involved premisses, and, second, the necessity of the logical connection between the premisses and the conclusion. If these two requirements are fulfilled, the conclusi­on must be necessarily true too. There are necessary arguments which can ‘prove’ something, although their premisses are not necessary and ‘evidently’ true, because they are only necessarily true. Moving on to the nature of a ratio naturalis, we have to see that Duns Scotus adds the condition of evident knowledge to the idea of a necessary argument. An epistemological feature is added to the logical feature of validity and the ontological feature of the necessity of the premisses: A ratio naturalis is a necessary argument in which a necessarily true conclusion is eventually derived from necessary and underivable premisses.87 Therefore, a proposition like (2) is natural, if it can be deduced from other necessary and self-evident propositions. The Age of the Renaissance shows a huge language shift. By then, propositions which are qualified by naturaliter are interpreted as pronouncements about human nature and what falls within the realm of the powers of human nature: Can a human person by the powers of his own nature love God above all? Luther’s stiff comment is: if he can, grace is superfluous. However, Duns Scotus’ epistemic point is that (2) and (4) are demonstrable in a strict sense. (2) belongs to a web of necessarily true propositions and his entire way of thinking rests on his theory of synchronic possibility and synchronic contingency which is conspicuous by its absence in Luther’s theology, because Luther explicitly rejects it –, but it is also absent with Barth and Küng. In Renaissance circles the classic foundation of doing theology shifts away. The ontological dilemma of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries consisting in the dilemma of Christian contingency thought versus ancient philosophical necessitarianism is replaced by a new anthropological dilemma that is immediately grafted on ancient patterns of thought. A nature is now seen as something rock bottom and its development as a partially autonomous process.

87

On kinds of arguments and kinds of proofs, and, in particular, on rationes necessariae and rationes naturales, see DPhil §§ 9.2-9.3.

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Late-medieval key sentences play a main role, but receive quite a different meaning. The paradigm shift elicits a language shift, but there is no historical reflection on this process so that what is going on escapes the main players. They project their own creativity upon the past and their opponents join them in fundamentally misunderstanding history. Traditional sentences are interpreted in new ways. Language shifts and language breaches are usually a symptom, and not so much the outcome of conscious intentions. Nevertheless, Luther’s prophetic role is clear. In the crisis of the early modern era when a minority proposes a new model of Christian belief and of doing theology he defends the classic stance of grace and sin: everything in the history of faith turns around God in Christ. Luther’s forefront is not the whole of the medieval Christian position as many modern Protestant interpreters suggest, and neither the whole of orthodox Catholic thought after the New Testament as Harnack proposed, but his forefront is a contemporary one. A new approach to reality arose: a duplex ordo ontology, distinguishing between two fundamental levels of reality: nature and the supernatural.88 The Creator himself gave a basic dimension to the whole of reality which makes it independent in principle in its essential potentialities. The essences or natures of things guarantee that they are closed in themselves, resting in their own autonomy. This new type of metaphysics is the foundation of a new kind of anthropology: its semi-autonomy basis reaches out to selfjustification as a natural challenge and possibility of human existence.89 It is not only Luther’s theme, but it also functions as the starting point of Calvin’s Genevan Catechism and the Heidelberg Catechism.90 The crucial point is that, according to the Reformation, we do not have to trust upon ourselves, but we have to put our trust and happiness in Jesus Christ. As Walgrave pointed out in a most unambiguous way: the basic continuity between medieval faith and spirituality and the Reformers lies here. The breach has to be located in Counter Reformational theology and philosop­hy.91 88 89 90

91

See De Lubac, Surnaturel (1946), Alfaro, Lo Natural y lo Sobrenatural (1952), De Lubac, Augustinisme et théologie moderne (1965), and idem, Le mystère du surnaturel (1965). See De Lubac, ‘Duplex hominis beatitudo,’ Recherches de science religieuse 35 (1948) 290-9, and Figura, Der Anruf der Gnade. See Calvin, Opera Selecta I: on God as the finality of human existence, and Olevianus and Ursinus, Catechismus Heidelbergensis, in Bakhuizen van den Brink (ed.), De Nederlandse Belijdenisge­schiften, responsio 1, which answers the question where our only trust is to be located as follows: ‘Animo pariter et corpore, sive vivam, sive moriar, non meus, sed fidissimi Domini et servatoris mei Iesu Christi sum proprius.’ See Walgrave, Geloof en theologie in de crisis, 148-212: on Luther, Calvin, Baius, Jansenius and Jansenism.

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267

Hans Küng and Karl Barth

What does all this mean for Europe’s main Christian divergence, when the Catholic and the Reformation traditions depart? Although Karl Barth was mild in his assessment of Hans Küng’s disserta­tion Rechtfertigung (1957), he did not consider Küng’s Barthian reading of the Tridentine doctrine of justification as an historically evident interpretation.92 Nevertheless, Küng’s Paris dissertation was an extraordinary achievement and a remarkable web of bold proposals. For Barth, the doctrine of justification simply points at the heart of the Gospel. It is like Grünewald’s finger of John the Baptist. This doctrine presupposes that there is an inner possibility of reconciliation between God and man. The doctrine of justification underlines the Christocentric character of the whole of theology: in Jesus Christ – God and man, the God-man – we are just and righteous before God. Barth – and Küng alike – likes to theologize in terms of most profound intentions. This method has some attraction, but although the upshot is typically Christian, it does not help us much when we have to discern differences between the Catholic, orthodox and Protestant traditions. Without any doubt, Barth’s characterization of being righteous before God is a fine and entracing one, but such an approach is cut off from the specific situation of Europe’s culture in the first half of the sixteenth century. Although Küng commits himself for a Catholic reflection on Barth’s doctrine of justification, he also made a great effort to defend the Council of Trent (1545-63) against Barth’s accusations. The main thesis is unspeakably bold: in the light of Trent and her document on justification, there is a basic agreement and harmony between Karl Barth’s Christocentric theory of justification and the Catholic doctrine. We become aware of the boldness of this hypothesis when we look at Küng’s overview of the dogmatic and cultural developments over the centuries. Moreover, Karl Barth is rather critical of the Catholic doctrine of justification, and especially of the Tridentine doctrine, whereas Hans Küng is clearly critical of Barth’s criticisms.93 Nevertheless, again and again he stresses the basic agreement. Not only this situation is paradoxical, but also the method followed by Küng in order to substantialize his view. Chapter 20 is followed by a fine series of five chapters, running from Der Erlöser Jesus Christus (21) to Das Verderben des Menschen (25). The Küng of Rechtfertigung is not any longer the ardent admirer of Pope Pius XII and the Gregorianum, but he also differs much 92 93

See Barth’s fine and cordial Geleitbrief in Küng, Rechtfertigung, 12-13. See in particular Hans Küng, Rechtfertigung. Die Lehre Karl Barths und eine katholische Besinnung, Einsiedeln/Paderborn 1957, chapter 20.

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from the Küng of Das Christentum (1994) and Der Islam (2004). Here, we still meet the powerful, biblical and orthodox stance of Küng’s theology before Vaticanum II. Mainly biblical dortrine and exegesis are used in order to explain the Catholic position. This edifying strategy, however, does not help us in comparing and assessing the doctrines of Barth and Trent. Such chapters offer much, but prove nothing. The biblical theological contribution is paradoxical, but the contribution delivered by historical theology is paradoxical too. As far as the basic contents of the Christian doctrine of justification are concer­ned, Hans Küng sees an essential continuity between the views of the apostle Paul and those of Thomas Aquinas’ era.94 Küng does not pay attention to the complicated history of the doctrine of justification, nor does he pay attention to the complicated history of the term ‘iustificatio.’95 For Hans Küng, things were always simple, but historical reality is not simple: our historical reality is very complicated, but Küng saw – and sees – no difficulty on identifying quite different realities. The continuity as seen by Küng would have been decisively broken by fourteenth-century thinking in terms of will and contingency and by the black sheep par excellence: nominalism. Remarkably, the young Küng sketches a dark picture of the dark later Middle Ages: superficial and external piety and terrible ecclesiastical secularizati­on, cruel national politics and valueless theology. The big bête noire is nominalist theology. This unsympathetic phenomenon has only to offer weak philosophy and Pelagianizing voluntarism. It is a source of modernity. Martin Luther’s forefront is just nominalist neo-Pelagianism.96 This is the dry wood Luther ignited into fires and flames.97 All this nominalist sadness and madness is the cradle of Luther’s doctrine of jusitification – the cor ecclesiae. In spite of Dettloff’s Die Lehre von der acceptatio divina bei Johannes Duns Scotus (1954), Duns Scotus is conspicuous by his absence in Küng’s Rechtfertigung.98 Against this background, the Tridentine Council basically restored the continuity with the pre-nominalist tradition. The doctrine of justification resting on theocentric and christocentric foundations affirms that grace is a free gift (favor Dei). Although Küng stresses that 94

95 96 97

98

Küng, Rechtfertigung, 213-14. There are also a few important references to Maurizio Flick, L’attimo della giustifizatione secondo S. Tommaso, Bouillard, Conversion et grâce, 212-19, and Vignaux, Justification et prédestination au xive siècle. See §§ 6.1-6.3. See Küng, Rechtfertigung, 32, 111 and 214-15. In fact, Heinrich Denifle’s Luther und Luthertum I-II (1904) is still followed here. Cf. Pannenberg, ‘Die Akzeptationslehre in der reformatorischen Rechtfertigungslehre,’ Studia Scotistica VI 213. Compare Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, chapter 3.

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holy Scripture is also the norm of theological terminology and freedom has never the meaning of freedom of choice in the New Testament, he accepts that the church has good reasons to utilize the concept of freedom of choice, since freedom of choice is the anthropological basis of Christian freedom. Never­ theless, he also accuses Jansenius of limited determinism.99 For Küng, freedom of choice is not based on ontological contingency, but focuses on choosing between good and evil.100 What is the harvest of this form of decline ideology, applied to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries? According to Küng, apart from these dark centuries, there is an enormous dogma-historical continutity between the long ages between the New Testament and the thirteenth century, while the sixteenth century and at any rate the Tridentine Council have to be added to this continuity. This fundamental continuity is in basic agreement with Karl Barth’s theology of justification. As far as the doctrine of justification of the Church and its foundations are concerned, Karl Barth’s deep insights rule the waves of the doctrine of the Church over the centuries. I only note that according to the radical Dutch Barthians, the new beginning of Charlemagne from Basel is incompatible with the whole of the classic tradition, and in particular with the Catholic tradition. Both extremes are utterly improbable, even if they were to be true. When I started to study theology and philosophy, all my teachers adhered to some form of decline ideology with regard to the later Middle Ages – with the notable exception of one unique discoverer, the medievalist De Rijk (19242012). Morever, our teacher Prof. De Vogel who was baptized in Utrecht’s oldest church – the Reformed St. Nicholas Church, when she did her classical studies at Utrecht University (1927) –, was later converted to the Catholic faith with the help of Newman’s Lectures on Justifica­tion and the whole of the tradition appealed at by Küng, for, according to her views, the Reformation and Barth are at variance with the Catholic tradition.101 At any rate, the decline ideology with regard to the later Middle Ages, was the first type of decline ideology I overcame in my student years during the second half of the 1960s, and,

99 100 101

Küng, Rechfertigung, 182 (180-5). On Jansenius, see also Küng, op. cit., 184. Küng, Rechtfertigung, 183-4. However, consult the canones of Trent (session VI). On De Vogel and De Rijk, see DPhil § 15.5. In contrast to De Rijk and his pupils, Prof. De Vogel was rather critical of the critical tendencies of the fourteenth century, but during the last phase of her life she developed sympathy for Scotus’ stance.

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likewise, I overcame my Protestant prejudice that the Reformation was an absolutely new beginning.102 Küng’s picture of medieval thought is untenable. Let me add, however, some more autobiographically based remarks. My teacher Sir Anthony Kenny studied in Rome for years (1949-57) – a period when Küng also studied there. At the Gregorianum, Bernard Loner­gan was starring in philosophy, and Maurizio Flick in dogmatic theology.103 Englishspeaking students had a hard time studying Flick’s Tridentine dogma­tics. What they were taught now to be Catholic, sounded for them to be Protestant or even Calvinist, whereas what they had learned sofar at home to be Catholic, appeared to be synergism or, at best, semi-Pe­lagianism, or perhaps even Pelagianism: From the Catholic point of view, we were seeking an understanding of the mysteries of faith which were the truths of supreme importance for the life of every human being. But even from the point of view of a secular historian of ideas, the Christian and the Catholic system, if not a revelation from God, is one of the most fascinating inventions of the human spirit; a construction erected by the best minds of many generations. It was the treatises on the history of salvation, from the fall of man through the redemption to the final judgement, which gripped me most. In particular I was held by the tract on grace. Hitherto, the University course had mainly been a systematic exposition of items of Catholic doctrine whose main lines had been part of my life since infancy. On the topic of grace, however, I began to see that I had never known what Catholic doctrine really was. The first thesis of the treatise on grace went like this: Fallen man without grace cannot long keep all the precepts of the natural law. The free will of the fallen man, however, is not completely extinct nor is it capable only of sinning [...]. But for any act leading to salvation, even the first step of faith, grace is absolutely necessary. An adult should dispose himself for justification by freely assenting to grace, but he is justified entirely gratuitously; and God distributes graces to fallen human beings in an unequal degree. Most of this was novel to me: indeed on these topics, the theses presented sounded to me more like the kind of things Protestants believed. [...] We came to realize that we had

102 103

There is a sea of recent literature – see especially Roest, Franciscan Literature of Religious Instruction before the Council of Trent. See Kenny, A Path from Rome, London 1985, 77-8, 125 and 146-7. Kenny refers to the years 1953-55.

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brought up in a mild version of the Pelagian heresy, and that even predestination was a Catholic doctrine as well as a Calvinist error.104 The identification of the Catholic nature of the Reformed doctrines of grace and justification implies a different assessment of the relation between medieval and Reformation thinking on faith and grace, although Küng did not find the right path. Both the systematic and ecumenical aspects are of burning importance, but Tony Kenny offers more quite interesting information: Among those who sat with me listening to Flick lecture on grace there was, in the red cassock of the Collegium Germanicum-Hungaricum, Hans Küng, who later wrote a book, Rechtfertigung, which was to be hailed as a landmark in the ecumenical understanding of the doctrine of justifica­tion.105 What Kenny’s narrative implies, is rather different from the story told by Küng in his Erkämpfte Freiheit (2002). In 1952 Kenny suffered from bouts of intellectual doubts concerning the Catholic faith, but the intellectual power of theologians such as Flick and Lonergan led him to a temporary philosophical quietus. Hans Küng who studied at Rome during the years 1948-1955, hardly mentions Flick, who appreciated much his licentiate thesis (1955), in his own autobiography.106 However, for the critical mind Sir Anthony Kenny still is,107 Flick was the best lecturer I have heard in a lifetime of lecture-going: every sentence vibrated with curiosity, energy, and decision. [...] I still preserve the notebooks in which I took notes of his course: the only complete set of lecture notes I have ever had the perseverance to take from a course. The only other lecturer I have ever listened to who could excite 104

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Kenny, A Path from Rome, 78. American students were particularly embarressed by the doctrine that God’s giving of grace was not governed by the principle of equal remuneration for equal merit. Kenny, A Path from Rome, 78-9. Cf. Küng, Erkämpfte Freiheit, chapters 2 and 3. For Küng’s Roman stay, see also Derwahl, Der mit dem Fahrrad und der mit dem Alfa kam, Munich 2006, chapter 5: ‘Hans Küng im roten Talar’ and 302-3. A piece of work of 220 pages on Karl Barth’s doctrine of justification and the Council of Trente, although only in the course of 1954 Küng embarked on studying Barth’s theology properly. Already by the late spring of 1955 he had finished his manuscript on the doctrine of justification in Die kirchliche Dogmatik which he would discuss with Barth later in that year. See Küng, Erkämpfte Freiheit. See Kenny’s A New History of Western Philosophy I-IV (2004-2007).

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and hold the interest of an audience, on a similar abstract topic, in a similar manner, was the Oxford philosopher J.L. Austin.108 Barth and Trent can shake hands, as Küng fancied in those years by linking immedi­ately the doctrinal Trent with Karl Barth’s doctrine of justification without posing the question whether Barth’s doctrine of faith and grace are compatible with the doctrines of faith and grace, justification and sanctification embraced by Reformed university theology during the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Küng writes that he had studied the doctrine of Trent and other classic documents, but Kenny simply tells us that during those years Maurizio Flick profoundly dealt with these themes in his lectures, delivering an interpretation of the Tridentine position which was brand new for him.109 At any rate, the upshot was a fine Swiss friendship between the grand old man from Basel (1886-1968) and the coming man Hans Küng (* 1928), although the peaceful thesis that there would be a basic agreement between the doctrine of the Catholic Church and Karl Barth’s doctrine of justification is not only a rosy one, but also a liaison which would make impossible a real agreement between Catholic doctrine and Reformed theology of justification. The Tridentine view on justification and Küng, Barth and Luther, the main tradition on grace and justification and Duns Scotus move within one theocentric and Christocentric worldview, but they are still not compatible. We need the Scotian way out. The differences are substantial, if we realize that Küng misinterprets medieval theology and that he overlooks the duplex ordo structure of much Counter Reformation theology, and also the fact that both Luther and Barth and he himself move within in a model which is the one possible world model of thought. If we miss the basic differences in the development of Western thought, it will be simply impossible to assess adequately the systematic differences present within the realm of the patrimonium fidei: faith does not dictate thinking. If we are truly interested in ecumenical theology, we preferably turn to John Duns and his medieval Anselmian/Augustinian tradition.

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Kenny, A Path from Rome, 77. Read the entire splendid passus on Flick, ‘a bouncing Tyrolean,’ called Maurizio Flick both by Kenny and Küng, to be contrasted with Bernard Lonergan, ‘a sardonic Canadian.’ There are parallels with the théologie nouvelle, but only Walgrave linked these new results with an alternative interpretation of the Reformation.

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Outlook

The early modern career of the ontological duplex ordo is not the whole story. Luther’s is not only an anthropological protest against a process of redefining the Christian faith, but Luther also defends this stance with a specific logical and ontological model, based on his doctrine of God. He strictly equates the dimensions of God’s nature, thinking, knowing, willing and acting. So, every property of God is a necessary property.110 Luther’s doctrine of God does not rest on the distinction between what is necessary and what is contingent: for God, everything is necessary.111 Everything that occurs, is necessary and everthing that we do, is likewise necessary:112 (5) Every fact is a necessary fact. This ontological theory also links with the Tridentine document On justification, since (5) excludes the possibility of freewill and the liberum arbitrium. As far as Luther himself is concerned, the exclusion of freewill and the liberum arbitrium not only follws from (5), but Luther also rejects freewill and the liberum arbitrium explicitly.

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Luther’s theological necessitarianism also folows from his doctrine of divine omniscience, since, according to Luther, (p → God knows that p) entails: (p → N (God knows that p). This has to be joined to the necessary truth: N (God knows that p) → N p. Now, we earn by hypothetical syllogism: p → N p, which demonstrates ontological necessitarianism. See also Linwood Urban, ‘Was Luther a thorough-going determinist?,’ Journal of Theological Studies 22 (1971) 113-39. Urban himself is convinced that such a determinism is an ingredient of orthodox Christianity. Luther, De servo arbitrio, WA XVIII 615: ‘Quod autem de iustitia et clementia dicitur, etiam de scientia, sapientia, bonitate, voluntate et aliis divinis rebus dici oportet. [...] Scilicet, volunta­tem immutabilem Dei praedicas esse discendam, immutabilem eius vero prae­ scientiam nosse vetas. An tu credis quod nolens praesciat, aut ignarus velit? Si volens praescit, aeterna est et immobilis (quia naturâ) voluntas, si praesciens vult, aeterna est et immobilis (quia naturâ) scientia.’ Luther, De servo arbitrio, WA XVIII 616: ‘Nihilominus manet illud, ut omnis res necessario fiat, si actio Dei necessaria vel consequentiae necessitas est, quantumlibet iam facta non sit necessario, id est, non sit Deus, vel non habet essentiam necessariam. Si enim ego fio necessario, parum me movet, quod esse meum vel fieri sit mutabile; nihilominus ego ille contingens et mutabilis, qui non sum Deus necessarius, fio. Quarum illorum ludibrium, Necessitate consequentiae, sed non necessitate consequentis, omnia fieri, nihil aliud habet quam hoc: Omnia quidem necessario fiunt, sed sic facta, non sunt ipsemet Deus.’ See KN, chapter 3.

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Here, both Luther and Calvin, and Barth and Küng are perfectly at variance with Trent – a fundamental aspect easily overlooked by Barth and Küng alike, but the condemnations of the Tridentine Sessio VI are precisely based on this point. At Trent not only the new supranaturalism was present, but many more traditionally minded theological views were present as well. Most Augustinians and Cistercians, Franci­scans and Carmelites were deeply influenced by Augus­ tinian spirituality. The early modern Counter Reformational wing was drawn to intermediate orthodox positions and this combination explains why a Reformation like doctrine on justification is linked with strict condemnations. For a consistent elaboration of this framework we need Scotus’ innovations. Within this Catholic-Reformed spectrum of theological positions concerning justificati­on, Barth and Kuyper are rather on the sideline, in fact on opposite sidelines. We may put things in an even wider theological perspective by reminding ourselves of the way in which Karl Rahner tries to do justice to the Reformed Anliegen. He too prefers the Augustinian bend, the confession of God’s singular justifying grace as the fundamental truth of Christian faith. This free and undeserved grace comes to human beings in their state of sin ‘through that which cannot be humanly laid claim on the free self-opening of God in Jesus Christ, the crucified and resurrected one.’113 There are no ‘works’ which could ‘pacify’ God, because this very idea is self-contradictory. The human response is itself a gift of God’s grace; it can only be received in freedom and is in fact our liberation. It must be said that human beings are only justified in that they flee again and again away from themselves, in faithful hope, to the saving grace of God. The basis of this justification is the real possibility, constantly permitted by God’s salvific will, of again and again going away from oneself in the hope of God’s mercy.114 In this sense Luther’s simul iustus et peccator can be fully maintained as well as a safeguard of the central theological view of the gratuitousness of all justification: The gracious act of God toward us must be accepted by us in freedom. But the freedom that in faith accepts God’s grace is a freedom liberated by God’s grace from creaturely finitude and sinful egoism. [...] The free human act in response to God is itself still a gift of the grace of God (ibidem). 113 114

Rahner and Darlap, ‘Justification,’ ER VIII 215. Rahner and Darlap, ‘Justification,’ ER VIII 216.

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Predestination 7.1

Introduction

The Encyclopedia of Religion discusses predestinati­on under the heading of free will and predestinati­on: While beliefs concerning free will and predestination may be rooted in religious expe­rience, they are also connec­ted to certain intellectual con­ cerns and puzzlements. [...] Even the bare acknowledgement of divine foreknowledge seems to entail determinism, for if God knows what will happen from eternity, it must necessarily happen or else his knowledge must be rendered erroneous.1 According to this assessment, predestination and prescience are intima­tely connected. They are anchored in the great themes of the doctrine of God. Wallace also notices that medieval scholastics like Duns Scotus and Ockham sought to reconcile God’s prescience with human freedom and choice, but does not pay attention to the crucial role of the divine will.2 The theories of the divine will and divine know­led­ge are indispensable in dealing adequately with the doctrine of predestination.3 These themes provide for the basic conceptual framework by which someo­ne’s position can be interpreted in an adequate way. Free will and predestination often constitute a polarity or even a dualism: Is salvation determined by a divine decree or is it a matter of personal free choice? The present impopularity of the term reprobation signals the modern uneasiness regarding old predestinarian thinking. Many liberal and secular 1 Wallace, ‘Free will and predestination: An Overview,’ ER V 425 (422-6). Cf. Marcoules­co, ‘Free will and determinism,’ ER V 419-21. Cf. McIntire, ‘Free will and predestination: Christian concepts,’ ER V 426-9, and Montgomery West, ‘Free will and predestination: Islamic concepts,’ ER V 429-33. Prof. Nico den Bok – professor of systematic theology at the ETF in Louvain – prepared a provisional translation of chapter 7: ‘Predestinatie’ of Johannes Duns Scotus, Leiden 1994, many years ago. This chapter owes much to our reflections which ensued from his translation and comments. Due to the intense discussions in our Research Group John Duns Scotus I profoundly revised the draft of this chapter in the years 2013-2014. 2 See Wallace, ‘Free will and predestination,’ ER V 423. 3 Compare § 2.2 and § 2.3 and DPhil §§ 13.2-13.3.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004360235_008

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thinkers considered predestination to be incompatible with free will, whether they rejected predestination or accepted it. It is a remarka­ble fact that all kinds of possible logical relationships between predestination and free will have been assumed. Predestination was not always considered to be inevitably incompatible with free will, but, even in this case, it was done so for quite different reasons. Many still hold that both are compatible in the sense that they are seen as paradoxical and complementary aspects of the life of faith. More traditionally, free will is often understood as voluntary necessity, and not as freedom of choice. If according to the original meaning of necessity ‘freedom’ means: absence of coercion/compulsion, acts necessarily determined by God can nonetheless be done freely. Therefore, most predestinarian theologies maintain that the predestined will acts freely and with responsibility for its own actions, although it lacks the possibility or the ability to choose. Likewise, the doctrine of reprobation was often seen as compatible with responsibility. Compatibilism concerning predestination and free will is rather common in Augustinian and Calvinist, and Islamic varieties of the theory. Even Thomas Hobbes was convinced that necessary acts were entirely voluntary and responsible acts. This line distinguishes between predestinarian determinism and fatalism which entails compulsion to act in a certain way. Predestination already played a clear role in the Pauline Letters. The theme shines out particularly in Augustine’s œuvre. Augustine had many medieval followers, including Gottschalk (± 805-868/869), but in the tenth and eleventh centuries there was no sequel to the ninth-century debate on predestination. From the twelfth century onwards, the position of Peter Lombard was to have great influence. He argued that neither predes­tination to glory nor reprobation has a ground in human beings, for only the divine will makes the difference. Alister McGrath discerns two main streams in thirteenth- and fourteenth-century theology: the majority of theologians, especially the first generations of the Dominicans, followed Lombard.4 Thomas Aquinas, for instance, held that the divine decision is necessa­rily free and uncompelled, and does not depend on foreseen merits or foreseen sins, but with Aquinas God’s decision still rests on his necessary knowledge. However, according to many scholars, a minority mainly associated with the early Franciscan school of Alexan­der of Hales and Bonaventure, did not defend the primacy of grace, but held the view that both election and reprobation have a grou­nd in human beings. This view is characteri­zed by Pannenberg in exact opposition to that of Thomas Aquin­as: election is an act of the intellect, whereas the divine will is infor­med by the intellect in order to elect or repro4 See McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 128-34.

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bate in a well-founded way.5 God’s decision hinges on grace and someone’s right use of his free will. Duns inter­prets Henry of Ghent as holding this view. Duns himself is said to have deviated from this view by taking election as an act of God’s will by which He elects a creature to grace and glory. The gratuity of election is not so much based on the gratuity of grace as on the absolute freedom of the elective act itself. This freedom is in fact the absolute priority of the end over means.6 The act of God’s will is accom­panied, but not preceded by acts of his intellect. If preceded, then God would only evaluate the reality of human faith. According to Duns, howe­ver, God’s will is constitutive for this reality. McGrath claims that Scotus is the first to develop the doctrine of predestination on the basis of the philosophy of action, and since grace is the means to election, the foreknowledge of the gift of justifying grace cannot be the reason for election. Election and reprobation are treated in an asymme­tric way. In these terms Duns’ place is between Thomas and Henry: for election there is no reason, for reproba­tion there is. In Ockham’s thought the complication of the eschatological doctrine of predestination comes from a different angle, because he recurs to the idea that propositions about the future do not have truth value. Once they are true or false, they are necessarily true or false. So Scotus’ theory of contingency is dropped in nominalism – which turned out to be a serious complica­tion in the transmis­sion and elaboration of the Scotian heritage. In the age of Renaissance and Reformation election and reprobation were going to have quite a different bend because of the change in the way the new intelligentia approached life. There is a new self-conscious­ness which sheds its light on the interaction between divine and human action. In a rather a-historical way Pelagia­nism and predestinarianism have become modern shibboleths. In particu­lar, Calvinis­t chur­ches presented predesti­nation as the cor eccle­siae.7 Then, Calvin is seen as the legitimate heir of Luther, and, according to the traditional interpretation, especially Girolamo Zanchi is said to follow the footsteps of John Calvin.8 In general, we may conclude that much of the history of 5 See Pannenberg, Die Prädestinationslehre des Duns Skotus, 30-3 and 77-9. Cf. McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 134. 6 See McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 135 and Pannenberg, Die Prädestinati­onslehre des Duns Skotus, 5468, 90-119 and 125-39. 7 See Vermeulen, Cor ecclesiae. 8 On Luther, see Schwarzwäller, Theologia crucis. On the Reformed tradition, see Graafland, Van Calvijn tot Barth, Dijk, De strijd over infra- en supralapsarisme in de Gereformeerde Kerken van Nederland, and Veenhof, Prediking en uitverkiezing. From Dort to Barth, pre­d­estination is going to be at the heart of the Reformed traditi­on, especially in the Nether­lands.

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the doctrine predestination is beset by confusions, and even by nightmares. Elucidating the stance of Scotus might help to find a new starting point to revise both the history and the systematic field of forces of the theories of election and rejection. Duns Scotus is remar­kably free from wishful thinking and this quality is of great help in extin­guishing the fire of predestinati­on in the house of the history of dogma. First, some terms are to be clarified (§ 7.2). The complicated theory of structural moments (in­stants of nature/instantia naturae) on which the Scotian doctrines of election, reprobation and predesti­nation hinge, presuppo­ ses the theory of contingency, and is itself part and parcel of the theory of action. So, the contingency of predestination has to be explained (§ 7.3), and the theory of predestination is in need of a theory of permission which is crucial for the Christian doctrine of divine will (§ 7.4). § 7.5 deals with the finality of election. These theories taken together are not only decisive for the traditional questi­on concerning the number of the elects and the issue of the fall (§ 7.7), but also for the elucidation of the structure of election (§ 7.6) as well as for the elucidation of the structure of rejection (§ 7.8). § 7.9 offers some final considerations. 7.2

Terminology: ‘Predestination’ and ‘Election’

The term ‘predestination’ has a complicated history. In the Bible and with the Greek Fathers predestinarian usage is untechnical and the writings of Augustine do not show a different picture. Anselm still uses ‘praedestinatio’ in the sense of God’s general providence, linked up with his omniscience. In later medieval Latin ‘praedestinatio’ usually means: election, and then it is opposed to rejection or reprobation. In the thirteenth century, new trees blossomed: the theory of syncategorematic terms, the theory of the individual and anthropology, and in systematic theology the doctrine of God, together with Scotus’ ontology. Calvin’s use of predestination, election and reprobation implies that ‘predestination’ is the larger term, which encompasses the seperate decisions of election (predestination to salvation) and reprobation (predestination to be a reprobate). The older Reformed tradition still partly followed the medieval usage, but also many authors accepted Calvin’s terminological stipulation of a double predestination (praedestinatio gemina) and, for reasons of convenience, I endorse this usage too, although, of course, we have to adapt ourselves to the usage of our authors in matters descriptive. Alt­hough the Latin expression ‘gemina praedestinatio’ is self-contradictory in terms of medieval

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ter­minol­ogy, Christian authors generally endorsed the doctrine of double predestination – not only the medieval scholastics, but also the Socinians and the Arminians, although they cherished quite different interpretations. So, in the medieval context, the Calvinist terminology of double predestination (praedestinatio gemina) would make no sense. With Scotus, ‘prae­desti­na­tio’ usually means: election. We notice that in the Reformed tradition after Calvin the medieval use of the terms is not dropped altogether. Festus Hommi­us, one of the secretaries of the Synod of Dort (1618-1619), still maintains this old usage.9 Hommius’s term­inological usage appears in the translation of the Confessio Belgica, which he made after the International Synod of Dort. This translation was inserted into the Acta of the Synod. In article 16 of the Confessio Belgica, Hommius translated ‘Vande eeuwige verkiesinghe (eternal election) Gods,’ by De praedestinatione divina.10 The Lutheran theologian Leonhard Hütter also follows the traditional usage in his Compendium locorum theologicorum (1610), as later Quenstedt does also, and Elke Axmacher translates ‘praedestinatio’ according to its medieval sense with Gnadenwahl.11 However, eventually John Calvin’s terminological stipulations enjoyed a huge influence, even outside the Reformed tradition. The acceptance of this usage does not imply that Calvin’s doctrine of predestination is also endorsed. 7.3

The Contingency of Predestination

7.3.1 Introduction The brief distinction Lectura I 40 catches the eye. Its clear and simple question, whether an elect (praedestinatus) can be condemned (damnari), takes a special place in the doctrines of election and predestination. First, John Duns gives his definition of ‘praedes­tinatio’ (Lectura I 40.4) by which he anticipates the answer to the question in § 5. Next, he offers an ideal summary of Lectura I 39 in Lectura I 40.6, while the subsequent sections (Lectura I 40.7-8) show 9 10 11

See Van Itterzon, ‘Festus Hommius,’ Lexicon II 251-4, especially 253, in comparison with Bakhuizen van den Brink, De Nederlandse belijdenisge­schriften, 24-7. Cf. Bakhuizen van den Brink, De Nederlandse belijdenis­geschriften, 97. Scotian structures are followed. See Elke Axmacher, ‘Die Prädestination als Thema in der lutherischen Erbauungsliteratur,’ in Wilfried Härle and Barbara Mahlmann-Bauer (eds.), Prädestination und Willensfreiheit. Luther, Erasmus, Calvin und ihre Wirkungsgeschichte. Festschrift für Theodor Mahlmann, Leizig 2009, 135-6 (135-45).

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how the famous distinction be­tween composite and divided sense (sensus compositionis and divisionis) should be applied to the present question. Finally, the two conclu­ding sections resume the initial objecti­ons. This short distinction is so important that it deserves a more extensi­ve discussion; it allows us to untie a conceptual knot in Scotus’ thought. The middle part of Lectura I 40 deals with two issues: the theological and ontologi­cal answer to the question (Lectura I 40.4-6) and the logical analysis of the central proposition: An elect can be condemned.12 The first part offers­ the definition of election (Lectura I 40.4), the theological argumentation for the answer (Lectura I 40.5) and its ontological foundations (Lectura I 40.6). 7.3.2 The Contingency of Election Duns shows on the basis of his definition, first, that an elect can be condemned (Lectura I 40.5) and, second, how this can be explained (Lectura I 40.6). In his explanation he refers to Lectura I 39.53-54: The way in which someone who has been elected could be condemned, is evident from the preceding question: the divine will precedes the object of volition, and, therefore, at the same moment of eternity at which it wills the object and wills a person to be saved, it is possible that it wills that this is not the case, and at the same moment it can will that person to be condemned. And therefore, at the same moment of eternity at which a person is an elect, it is possible that he is a reprobate, as is evident from the preceding question.13 The concept of synchronic contingency is here formulated with an unrivalled brevity and precisi­on. It is crucial that this concise terminology pervades the whole of Duns Scotus’ theological works.14 The formulation of Ordinatio I 40.5 is even more concise: 12 13

14

Lectura I 40.1: ‘Quaeritur utrum praedestinatus posset damnari.’ See Lectura I 40.7-8. Lectura I 40.6: ‘Quomodo autem ille qui est praedestinatus posset damnari, patet ex quaestione praecedente, quia voluntas divina praecedit obiectum, et ideo in eodem instanti aeternitatis in quo vult obiectum et aliquem salvari, potest nolle illud et potest velle in eodem ipsum damnari. Et ideo in eodem instanti aeternitatis in quo aliquis est praedestinatus, potest esse reprobatus, sicut patet ex quaestione praecedente.’ See Lectura I 39.53-54 and CF 124-9. Compare DPhil chapters 1-3 and 4-13 (including s.v. ‘contingency’), and Simo Knuuttila’s review of Antonie Vos, The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus, in the interrnet journal for philosophy of religion Ars Disputandi 23 August 2007. Knuuttila refutes the assumption that the idea of syn­chronic contingency only takes an isolated spot. For the concept of

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For this reason, I say (because of what has been said in the preceding quaestio) that God contingently elects someone He has elected whereas it is possible that he does not elect – not both at the same time, nor subsequently (successive), but each of them in the divided sense (divisim) at the moment of eternity.15 This summary is based on synchronic contingency: the structure of willing which appears when we only focus at one and the same moment of time. When we leave the succession and variation of times aside, there is only one moment left: NOW, and the intriguing question is: what is the ontological status of what happens at that one moment? There are two options: either the state of affairs s complete­ly ‘fills’ that moment t in such a way that t is absolutely ‘full,’ leaving no room for any alternative (in that case s is necessary), or s fills time t in such a way that not-s can be the case at time t (which also leaves room for v or w, if v and w are not excluded by s). According to the first option, the ontological space of reality is closed at t: nothing else can in. According to the second option, however, it is open: something else could come in and fill that space. Thus, we can say that at time tm John attends the holy communion service, but he could not have attended at that time tm, and at time tn John does not receive holy communion, but he could have done so at time tn. In the same way we can say that John is a chosen one, and that it is possible that he is rejected. In Lectura I 39 the concept of synchronic contingency is developed in order to explain the contingent knowledge of God and the freedom of the human will.16 This concept is also applied to God’s will.17 For God’s eternal will there is one moment at which it acts – the moment of eternity. If his act is not synchronically contingent, it cannot be contingent at all. Lectura I 40.6 recurs to this insight, but in Duns Scotus’ ontology, the new concept of contingency

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synchronic contingency, see CF 32-7. Interestingly, Duns changed the order of theological justification and ontological foundation. After the defini­tion of Ordinatio I 40.4 (corresponding to Lectura I 40.4) the ontological foundation comes first: in Ordinatio I 40.5 (corresponding to Lectura I 40.5); then, the theological answer follows in Ordinatio I 40.6 (correspon­ding to Lectura I 40.6). Unlike his predecessors, Duns does not take ‘divisim’ as a synonym of successive any longer; now, it has an alternative meaning, indicating synchronic possibility. Ordinatio I 40.5: ‘Ex hoc dico (propter illa quae dicta sunt in quaestione praecedente) quod Deus contingenter praedestinat illum quem praedestinavit, et potest non praedestinare – non simul ambo, nec successive, sed utrumque divisim, in instanti aeternitatis.’ See Lectura I 39.45-52 and CF 108-25. See Lectura I 39.53-54.

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includes actual existence. This means that he focuses on actually willing something at one moment, and shows that for this willing there is an simultaneous alternative. In Lectura I 40 another impor­tant principle can be detected. Duns’ concept of contingency includes existing in the actual world and willing something means, at the level of eternity, willing that something actually exists in a certain way. At this point, Duns presents the rule: The divine will precedes the object of its volition.18 What is meant by object in this case? In Lectura I 39.45-47, ‘obiecta’ refers to objects of will: the will can will this or that object. So, obiecta are states of affairs or propositions that are willed, while because of contingency there is the synchro­nic possibility of the opposite states of affairs as objects of the will. Willing an object means, for God, making that this object is part of all that is actually willed by God (productum in esse volitum). Now we can see in what way the divine will precedes the object. No object belongs to being willed (the esse volitum), if it does not receive that kind of esse by God’s will. It is necessary that, if an object belongs to what is actually willed by God, it is in virtue of an act of his will. Conversely, ­if God has an act of will with respect to an object, he does not necessari­ly will that object. Willing something is as such essential to God. It is necessarily true that God wills something, but it is not necessary that he wills that p, if he wills that p. It is necessarily true that there is a contingent act of divine willing – an actualist and a non-actualist approach share this crucial thesis –, but here it is the concrete act of will that is contingent. So, it is in virtue of an act of will that an object is actually willed. In this sense, God’s will creates its object. If his willing were to be necessary, both that God wills and what is willed would be necessary. The object of will would be both necessary and sufficient for God to will it. Since what is willed is in fact a contingent state of affairs – in the present context: someo­ne’s election or reprobati­on – the object is only a necessary conditi­on for God’s willing it, God’s will itself is the sufficient condition for willing it. In this sense, the divine will is ­prior to its contingent object.19 This ontological analysis is presupposed in 18 19

Lectura I 40.6: ‘Voluntas divina praece­dit obiectum.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 40.4. In terms of possible worlds semantics and the distinction between actuality (truth in any possible world) and factuality (truth in Actua) it is obvious that predestinarian objects are actual and hence ‘can be created’ (creabilis). The eternal aim is to be derived from God’s character and for this reason the primary object of his will is the contingent in­stantiation

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Duns’ solution of the theological problem of the modal status of election and reprobation. Election is a specific act of God’s will. As an act of will, election is eternal and syn­chroni­cally contin­gent. As a specific act of will it has a specific object. It pertains to human beings personally; yet it does not consist in willing their existence, but their glorifica­tion (Lectura I 40.4). To be more precise: election is an act of God’s will by which he actualizes a certain order of things by which someone is actually brought to eternal glory.20 The theological elaboration of the answer to the question of distinction Lectura I 40 comprises also an anthropological side. Someone who is elected has his own free will (liberum arbitrium) by which he lives his own life and by which he can sin. Since the (synchronic) possibility to sin is an essential proper­ty of human beings, it is possible that someone keeps sinning to the end and, hence, is not justified, but condemned. ‘For Duns justification is intrinsically connected to election: no election without justification.’21 The ontological structu­re of the will is such that human free will is not affirmed and confirmed (confirmatum), and, therefore, it can sin. Apart from the theological and anthropological elements of Duns’ solution, there is still a third aspect, a logical aspect. The proposition An elect can be condemned can be analy­zed by the logical-grammatical distinc­tion of the composite and divided senses: In the composite sense the proposition is false. In this case it means that it is possible that the predicate ‘condemned’ applies to the elect – in so far as he is an elect – which is false.22 Read in the composite sense (secun­dum compositionem), the proposition is false, because in this case the proposition would read: It is possible that an elect is condemned. This is untrue, for, in that case, the predicate being condemned also belongs to the subject elect, which amounts to the contra­diction being elected and not being elected. However, if the proposition An elect can be condem­ned is read in the divided sense (­in sensu divisionis), it is true:

20 21 22

of the aim: The aim elicits the object. Compare the later conflict between Arminius and Gomarus about the creatability, actua­lity and factuality of the elected and reprobate persons. Election (praedesti­na­tio) has the connotati­on of foreknowing someone’s glorificati­on. Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 139. Lectura I 40.7: ‘Et in sensu compositionis est falsa, et significatur quod praedicatum damnationis insit praedestinato – in quantum praedestinatus – cum nota possibilitatis, quod falsum est.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 40.7. On the term ‘nota possibilitatis,’ see CF 120-3, and consult also Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 139-42.

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The divided sense is true, not because it means that condemnation follows election, but – because the subject term is concrete – there is an implied sentence there, meaning that he who is elected, not remaining an elect, can be condemned, and this is true. Therefore, the terms are not understood as referring to different points in time, but they are measured by the same moment of eternity, since at the same moment of eternity at which God has elected a person, it is possible that he does not elect that person.23 Duns makes it unmistakably clear how this must be understood. First, he excludes the temporal meaning often implied in can. The proposi­tion does not mean that someone who is elected can be condem­ned later on.24 Second, he excludes a change of subject: it is the same subject who is elected, yet at the same moment he can be condemned: at the same moment of eternity a is elected and it is possible that a is condemned. In one of the objections of this brief distinction an issue is raised that still complicates the discus­sion of election and double predes­tination: the eternity of the act of election. In Lectura I 40.1 this aspect is rendered, grammatically, by the preterite of He has been elected, while in Lectura I 40.9 it is expressed by the perfect tense.25 Once the act of will is performed it will always remain the same. What God wills now, he wills eternally.26 The grammatical tenses of past, present and future cannot differentiate eternal acts. Praedesti­navit (he has elected), praedesti­nat (he elects) and praedes­tinabit (he shall elect) refer to the same act of will. The past tense does not render this act necessary. Every time is connected to the eternal now, the moment of eternity (nunc aeternitatis). Ordinatio I 40.9 speaks of consignificare of the eternal now. In every tensed formulati­on of a divine act of will the

23

24 25 26

Lectura I 40.8: ‘Sensus divisionis est verus, non quia significatur damnationem succedere praedestinationi, sed – quia terminus subiectus est concretus – est ibi implicatio et significatur quod ille qui est praedestinatus, non manens praedestinatus, possit damnari: et hoc verum est. Unde non intelliguntur ibi extrema pro diversis temporibus, sed mensu­ rantur eodem instanti aeternitatis, quia in eodem instanti aeternitatis in quo Deus praedestinavit aliquem, potest ipsum non praedestinare.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 40.7. See again Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 140-2. In Lectura I 40.8 ‘divisim’ does not mean: pro diversis temporibus, and, thus, Duns consciously deviates from the traditional meaning of ‘divisim.’ Ordinatio I 40.1 explicitly connects the praeteritum tense with the aspect of ab aeterno. Cf. Lectura I 45.2-3: ‘Voluntas divina nunc vult alia a se et quod nunc vult, ab aeterno vult; igitur etc. Quod concedo,’ and Ordinatio I 45.1.

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eternal present is consigni­fied. ‘For that reason, to elect and to have elected and to elect in the future are the same for God.’27 For a summary, we return to the definition of Lectura I 40.4: We must say that election is an act of will, namely, a preordination of the divine will by which he preordains a person to glory (not that by which he preordains a person to existence). Election can also connote ‘divine knowledge.’28 From this definition – a characterization to be elaborated on in Ordinatio I 40 – the following ele­ments are to be derived: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Election (praedestinatio) is an act of will of God, by which a kind of ordering is actualized (ordinatio), with respect to a specific person (aliquis): it is personal, yet not with respect to the existence of that person, but with respect to his glorification (gloria); election also has the connotation of an act of divine (fore)know­ledge.

7.3.3 The Contingency of Rejection It is clear that the analysis of an act of will is applica­ble both to election and rejecti­on, if they are conside­red as eschatolo­gical realities. Election and rejection are two eschato­logical acts of God’s will regarding someone’s final status before God and each one has its synchronic alternative. So, someone is either factually elected by God, whereas it is possible that he is not elected, or he is factually not elected by God, whereas it is possible that he is elected. As in Lectura I 39, in Lectura I 40 Scotus does not envision the syn­chrony of two actual opposite scenario’s, but the synchro­ny of an actual scenario and a possible opposite one. When, at the one moment of eternity, God actually wills someo­ne’s salvati­on, it is possible that at that same moment he does not will that person’s salvati­on. Seen from the perspective of the person elected, we 27

28

Ordinatio I 40.9: ‘Unde, sicut dictum fuit distinctione 9, verba diversorum temporum dicta de Deo – prout verissime competunt sibi – non significant partes temporis mensurantis illum actum, sed consignificant nunc aeternitatis quasi mensurans illum actum, in quantum coexistens illis pluribus partibus. Et ideo idem est Deo praedestinare et praedestinasse et praedestinaturum esse.’ Lectura I 40.4: ‘Dicendum est quod praedestinatio est actus volun­tatis, et est praeordinatio divinae voluntatis qua praeordinat aliquem ad gloriam (non qua praeordinat aliquem ad esse), et potest connotare notitiam divinam.’

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have to state that at the very moment that he actual­ly is an elect, there is the possibility of being a reprobate. Duns Scotus’ ontological breakthrough in the doctrine of election streng­ thens the connection with the early Franciscan doctrine of grace which assigned a preliminary role to the freedom of God in his gracious acts. Scotus does not support the so-called ontological foundation of merit, as present, for instance, in Aquinas’ doctrine of election. In Duns Scotus’ alternative ontology there is no opposition between ontology and freedom, but between an ontology for which the divine freedom is essential and an ontology for which it is not. In his own ways Duns elaborated on what we already find with William of Auxerre, master of theology in Paris during the decade 1218-1228, when he defends in his Summa aurea (1215-20) that God can condemn Peter and can save Judas.29 This viewpoint of condemning Peter and saving Judas is also to be founf in Scriptum IV 1 quaestio 2.3 of the young Thomas Aquinas. In Scotian thought, human reality is open, and based on divine freedom. The insistence on divine freedom strange­ly meanders through the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Scotus’ contribution with its emphasis on freedom and what is personal, stands out as a construc­tive elaboration of the doctrine of grace and election advan­ced by the great Francis­can theolo­gians of thirteenthcentury Paris, above all Bonaventure.30

29

30

See William of Auxerre, Summa aurea (Sententiae commentary) I 9, chapter 5. On William of Auxerre, see Jack Zupko, ‘Willam of Auxerre,’ in Gracia and Noone (eds.), A Companion to Philosophy in the Middle Ages (2006), 688-9, and Jean-Luc Solère, ‘Guillaume d’Auxerre,’ in Olivier Boulnois (ed.), La puissance et son ombre. De Pierre Lombard à Luther, Paris 1994, 97-128. See Hamm, Promissio, 213-49 and 340-5. The fact of continuity between Duns Scotus and the early Franciscan tradition is missing in Dett­loff’s dissertation Die Lehre von der acceptatio divina bei Scotus. It appears in Auer, Die Entwicklung der Gnadenlehre in der Hochscholastik II 75-165, and it is elaborated on by Hamm, Promissio, 171-354. The suspicion that this way of analyzing divine freedom excludes free human willing, within the context of faith and justification, is based on a category mistake. The proposition God’s free will of election and justification excludes human free will is necessarily false. On the other hand, stating that the Franciscan acceptance of freewill leads to Pelagianism also rests on a category mistake. Moreover, these two tendencies in interpreting Franciscan theology are contradictory!

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God’s Permission

7.4.1 Introduction John Duns’ doctrine of God is based on the necessity-contingency duality.31 This model makes room for a specific role of the doctrine of divine will, which had to be elaborated on and to expanded on. We can observe this in remarkable ways in Duns Scotus’ theory of permission. Duns expounds his theory of permission in Ordinatio I 47.32 The crucial question is whether divine permission be an act of the divine will.33 This question is affirmed, and here the sed contra does not express Duns’ own view. First, he offers an efficiency and prevention approach of permission (Ordinatio I 47.3-7). Second, however, because this solution does not satisfy Scotus, he develops a newly styled theory of permission (Ordinatio I 47.8-9). The core of this newly styled theory is a new logic of willing (velle). Both approaches share the concept formation of a positive act of will which is the first expansion of the theory of will. It is the basis of the effect and prevention approach to permission, but its alternative needs a second elaboration: the theory of a negative act of will. After the presentation of the tools (§ 7.4.2: positive acts of will, and § 7.4.3: negative acts of will) attention is paid to both theories of permission: a variant of the traditional theory (§ 7.4.4), and Duns Scotus’ new proposal (§ 7.4.5). 7.4.2 Positive Acts of Will God can will that something is the case and this act of will is the starting point of the whole of the theory of will. The theory of will is a central theory of Duns’ doctrine of God, and altogether in the whole of Duns Scotus’ thought. The initial step is that an act of will is a contingent act of will – in the synchronic sense of ‘contingent.’34 The first extension of the doctrine of will consists of a new theory of positive acts of will. In Ordinatio I 47.3 Duns Scotus introduces the notion of a positive act of will. Its terminological aspects deserve precise attention, including the presentation of the evidence for the terms used by Duns:

31 32

33 34

See Antonie Vos, ‘Scotus’ Significance for Western Philosophy and Theology,’ in Francesco Fiorentino (ed.), Lo scotismo nel Mezzogiorno d’Italia, 173-209. See Vos et al., Johannes Duns Scotus. Teksten over God en werkelijkheid (1995), 77-85, and Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 178-92. Ordinatio I 47 is not based on Lectura I 47, for Lectura I does not have the distinctions 46-48. Ordinatio I 47.1: ‘Quaero utrum permissio divina sit aliquis actus voluntatis divinae.’ See § 7.3, and also DPhil.

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We can distinguish a twofold act of will in ourselves, namely, willing and willing that not, and both are acts in a positive sense.35 If an act of will is an act in a positive sense, because it is not connected with a denial, it is a positive act. When Duns deals with the denial of an act of will, he utilizes the term ‘actus negativus’: […] the negation of a positive divine act, and, consequently, it is not positive.36 The pattern of positive acts of will is clearly introduced: […] namely, willing and willing that not, and both are acts in a positive sense. God can will that something is the case, and that something is not the case. So, the first instance is: God wills that p and the second instance is: God wills that not-p.37 This pattern of positive acts of will is also crucial for understanding correctly the meanings of nolle and nolitio: Willing and willing that not, and both are acts in a positive sense. A nolition (nolitio) is also a so-called positive act of will (actus positivus voluntatis) – in contradistinction to an act to be called a negative act of will 35

36 37

Ordinatio I 47.3: ‘In nobis potest distingui duplex actus voluntatis, velle scilicet et nolle, et uterque est positive actus.’ There is an alternative reading: ‘positivus actus,’ but the place of ‘positivus’ makes this reading improbable. Here, it is clear that a nolitio is a positive act of will. In Renaissance Latin ‘nolle’ can again mean: non velle. In Ordinatio I 41.45, both the term ‘actus positivus’ and the term ‘actus negativus’ are used. Ordinatio I 47.8: ‘[…] sive non nolle, quod est negatio actus divini positivi et, per consequens, non est positivus.’ Mind the place of not!

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(not-willing something).38 Therefore, nolle means: to will that not, and a nolitio is the positive act of willing that something is not the case.39 So, nolle does not mean: not willing, but willing that not. The difference between the positive acts volitio and nolitio can be made explicit as follows: aWp (a wills that p) is a volition and aW-p (a wills that notp) is a nolition. From the logical point of view, a volitio and a nolitio are related in a specific way. Not-p is the denial of the one and the same p; thus, a wills that p and a wills that not-p are so related that they are contraries: If they concern the same object, they are contrary acts.40 The terms ‘contrarius’ and ‘contrary’ belong to modal logic. Contrary propositions cannot be true together, although they can be both false at the same time. They substantially figure in the opposition square of willing. In ordinary language, contrary acts of will are expressed by verbs like ‘to love’ and ‘to hate:’ […] which are also expressed by other words: ‘to love’ and ‘to hate.’41 In Ordinatio I 41 Scotus had already used the notion of a positive act of will. He distinctly observed that there is still no positive act of the divine will with respect to Judas at the second structural moment of rejection.42 Although he has not much to say about divine permission in that quaestio, he asks what it can mean when we say that God wills that he permits that Lucifer sins. Suppose that there is a positive act of will with respect to sin. If this be the case, then it seems to be that he (= God) wills that he (= Lucifer) sins,43

38 39

40 41 42 43

See § 7.4.3. GWp has to be read as: God wills that p, and GW-p is to be read as: God wills that not-p – the denial of p. GWp and GW-p are, in fact, the upper corner points of the opposition square of willing. Ordinatio I 47.3: ‘Si sint circa obiectum idem, sunt contrarii actus.’ Ordinatio I 47.3: ‘[…] qui et exprimuntur aliis vocabulis, quae sunt “amare” et “odire”.’ See also § 7.4.3. See Ordinatio I 41.45. Cf. § 7.8. Ordinatio I 41.49: ‘Si hoc est aliquis actus positivus voluntatis respectu peccati, igitur videtur quod vult eum peccare.’

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but Duns’ basic stance is – in contrast with the necessitarian theologians –, that it is impossible that God wills that anybody sins. So, there is only an act with respect to not-willing and that is a reflective act of will.44 7.4.3 Negative Acts of Willing Duns Scotus continues to expand the theory of will in order to create theoretical room for a new theory of permission. So far, Duns has introduced the notions of volitio and nolitio – the notions of willing and nilling (= willing that not). Now, he makes a further move by paying attention to the denial of an act of will. In the case of sinning there is something at stake that cannot be ascribed to God or to what he does: How can the divine will be involved in sins? Something happens in our reality and it runs counter to God’s will: it runs against a precept or a command of his. In the case of permission there is something at stake that cannot be ascribed to God. In Ordinatio I 41 Duns Scotus had already used the term ‘actus negativus:’ There is no positive act of the divine will with respect to Judas, but only a negative one.45 A negative act of will rests on the negation or denial of an act of will (volition): There is only the negation of the volition of the glory.46 The principle behind all this is that God cannot will sin: There is no positive act with respect to the act of sin.47 Duns Scotus not only distinguishes between two positive acts of God’s will, but also between two negative acts of his will. Permitting is a distinct kind of willing and the divine will only knows the negation of velle and the negation of nolle:

44 45 46 47

See Ordinatio I 41.49. Compare § 7.4.5. Ordinatio I 41.45: ‘Nullus actus positivus voluntatis divinae est circa Iudam, sed tantum negativus [sc. actus].’ Ordinatio I 41.45: ‘Tantum est ibi negatio volitionis gloriae.’ Ordinatio I 41.49: ‘Non est actus positivus respectu actus peccati.’

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[…] not willing that he prevents that something happens, or not willing that not, which is the negation of a positive divine act and, consequently, it is not positive.48 The doctrine of rejection (Ordinatio I 41) elicits a new theory of permission (Ordinatio I 47), which is in need of the new notion of a negative act. The crucial concept is the concept of a negative act of divine will (actus negativus voluntatis divinae). This type of willing is to be formulated as: a does not will that p. As such it is the very opposite of a positive act of will: a wills that p. The difference between a positive and a negative act of will is to be expressed formally as follows: aWp (a wills that p) is the positive act, and a-Wp (a does not will that p) is the negative act. Because there are two kinds of positive acts – a volitio and a nolitio –, there are also two kinds of negative acts: a-Wp (a does not will that p) and a-W-p (a does not will that not-p). From the logical point of view, we have seen that Duns says, that a volitio and a nolitio are contrary acts (Ordinatio I 47.3). The terms ‘contrarius’ and ‘contrary’ belong to a family of terms, all connected with the key scheme of modal logic, represented by the opposition square. The primary notion is that of being contradictory: p and its denial not-p are contradictories. Contradictories cannot be true at the same time and they cannot be false at the same time. In the opposition square this logical relationship is represented by the diagonals.49 The specific way contraries are related to each other is to be indicated with the help of the opposition square. They are the upper corner points: aWp (a wills that p) is the left hand upper corner point and aW-p (a wills that not-p) is the right hand upper corner point. Because a-Wp (a does not will that p) is the contradictory proposition of the first formula, the place of a-Wp is the right hand lower corner point of the opposition square and a-W-p is the left hand lower corner point. They are sub-contraries: sub-contrary acts can be true together at the same time, but not false. Now, we have arrived at the complete

48 49

Ordinatio I 47.8: ‘[…] non velle prohibere aliquid fieri, sive non nolle, quod est negatio actus divini positivi et per consequens non est positivus.’ The opposition square plays a key role in KN: 143, 176, 211 and 408.

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opposition square for willing and Duns Scotus’ contribution to the theory delivers the basic structure of the opposition square for willing.50 In doxastic logic – the logic of believing – there is a famous parallel issue: not believing versus believing that not, for instance, I do not believe that the Emperor Domitian was born in 55, but it is also the case that I do not believe that he was not born in 55. Nevertheless, not believing and believing that not are not the same. I believe that my wife was not born in 1955. So, I do not believe that she was born in 1955, but I neither believe that Bram van de Beek was born in 1945. He was born in one of these years 1945-48, but in which year? When we ignore these differences, both the logic of believing and the logic of willing collapse and in ordinary language we often commit such logical sins. We can say ‘I do not want you to smoke,’ though we intend to say: I will that you do not smoke. Likewise, we can say ‘We do not believe that you smoke,’ although we intend to say that we believe that you do not smoke. Negation mistakes are farreaching mistakes. Just as it is crucial to distinguish between not believing and believing that not in doxastic logic, it is also crucial to distinguish properly between not willing and willing that not in the logic of the will.51 7.4.4 The Effect and Prevention Approach: permissio I The first theory Duns presents is a sophisticated variant of the traditional approach. The reality of permission is approached in terms of effect and prevention. The basic concepts are volitio and nolitio: both are positive acts of will, for a volitio expresses that a wills that p and a nolitio that a wills that not-p. Then, the crucial distinction between efficax and remissus has to added. Within this context, the notions of a volitio efficax and a nolitio efficax are crucial, and then the pair of voluntas remissa and nolitio remissa. First, attention has to be paid to velle efficax. The point of the meaning of ‘efficax’ is not that the cause is ‘efficient’ in its modern sense.52 By a volitio efficax something is effected and 50

51

52

For the opposition square of the logic of willing, see Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 184-5 note 3. Cf. Dekker’s excellent treatment of the logic of will in Rijker dan Midas (1993), 289-94, where the opposition square of willing is also to be found (290). For doxastic logic, see KN (1981), chapter 4, that turns on the doxastic opposition square: see KN 143 (141-5). Calvin was confused about this point and this mistake led him to predestinarian determinism: see Vos, ‘The Systematic Place of Reformed Scholasticism. Reflections Concerning the Reception of Calvin’s Thought,’ in Andreas J. Beck and William den Boer (eds.), The Reception of John Calvin and His Theology in Reformed Orthodoxy in Wim Janse and Jan Wim Buisman (eds.), Church History and Religious Culture 91.1-2 (2011) 31-4 and 39-41. The modern ‘efficient’ as a translation of ‘efficiens’ in the famous expression ‘causa efficiens’ is also a misnomer, for what is meant is not that it is ‘efficient,’ competent or practical and rational.

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actualized at the same time. It effects, it brings about an effect, it actualizes something by bringing it into existence in the sober and objective meaning of these words. So, the ‘efficax’ will is effecting, not ‘efficient.’ Duns Scotus also offers a standing definition: velle efficax is that willing by which the will is not only pleased by the actuality of that which is willed, but also instantly (statim) actualizes it, if it can instantly actualize it.53 The crucial transition in the case of velle efficax is between instantly actualizing something and the possibility of doing so: If a can actualize p instantly, then a actualizes p instantly. Here, actuality flows from possibility. Thus, the involved willing follows this pattern: If a wills (in the sense of actualizing instantly) that p, then p. The crucial scheme is here that of the implication of truth. In fact, the theory of will boils down to a theory of effecting and actualizing. If I can hit the ball, I hit the ball. In doing so willing is involved, but it is not decisive. One is so focused on an external action that one does what one can do. Here, willing is still essential, but not decisive. In the definition, we also meet ‘complacet.’ ‘(Com)placet’ is usually used in a sober and objective way – without the emotional connotation of pleasure or joy. The English ‘it pleases’ is too strong. ‘Placet’ can be said of an acceptance which is not accompanied by feelings of pleasure or joy. If a king did not ‘censure’ a book, it was said that it placet him to be published, although he could entirely disagree with the contents of the book. Nevertheless, he did not forbid the publication.54 So, only an attitude of acceptance is involved: it is willing by which the will […] sees fit the actuality of that which is willed.55

53 54 55

Ordinatio I 47.4: ‘[…] ut dicatur “velle efficax” quo voluntati non tantum complacet esse voliti, sed si potest statim ponere volitum in esse statim ponit.’ A parallel meaning we find in Deo volente – here, a weak kind of willing is meant too: God lets it go. Ordinatio I 47.4: ‘[…] “velle efficax” quo voluntati non tantum complacet esse voliti.’

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There is an act of will which affirms something to be brought into existence instantly (statim), while it can do so instantly, and it instantly actualizes and effects that which is willed. The crucial concepts are volitio and nolitio, related to reality in a specific way. Both are positive acts of will, to be distinguished into velle efficax and willing which is not so, but the restrained will (voluntas remissa) is the will by which that which is willed, is seen fit in such a way that the will nevertheless does not actualize it, although the will could do so.56 Duns also distinguishes between a voluntas efficax and a voluntas remissa and now it is to be asked what the difference between an effecting will and a restrained or withdrawn will (voluntas remissa) is. The traditional interpretation takes voluntas remissa in the sense of an ineffective will: willing that is not efficient – in the modern sense of ‘efficient.’ This interpretation suggests that the agent not only fails to effect something, because he does not bring it into existence (ponere in esse), but that this is a failure – his failure. This entails that in the case of a voluntas remissa the agent is not able to do better. However, Duns does not say this. Just the component of the possibility of actualizing runs parallel in both cases: voluntas efficax: it can instantly actualize that which is willed, voluntas remissa: the will could actualize it.57 So, the difference between an effecting will (voluntas efficax) and a withdrawn will (voluntas remissa) is not to be searched for in impotence, powerlessness or ‘force majeure.’ Moreover, in both cases, something is willed. Nevertheless, in the first case the will accepts it as fit to effect and to actualize it, and in the second case it is seen fit in such a way that the will nevertheless does not actualize it. The other crucial component is an effecting nolition (nolitio efficax). Such a nolition is characterized by prevention: one wills that something does not occur and, accordingly, brings about that it does not occur, because it is prevented:

56

57

Ordinatio I 47.4: ‘Voluntas remissa est qua ita placet volitum, quod tamen voluntas non ponit illud in esse, licet possit ponere illud in esse.’ For although this kind of will wills that something does not happen in the first instance, it lets it go. See Ordinatio I 47.4.

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In this way he would will that he would not will that he did not prevent that.58 This approach is positive act-based and focuses on effecting: We also call an ‘effecting nolition’ that by which the will willing that something is not the case not only impedes something, but completely destroys that, if it can.59 What is the impact of the last if-clause? The specific component runs parallel in both cases: volitio efficax: it can instantly actualize that which is willed, nolitio efficax: it wills that something is not the case and it impedes it (Ordinatio I 47.4), but can it do so? Even in the case of a nolitio remissa the will can do so: nolitio remissa: it could do so (Ordinatio I 47.4). If the agent can do so in the case of a nolitio remissa, he can certainly do so in the case of a nolitio efficax. So, positive acts of will are not only instances of willing, and strong words stress that a volitio efficax is internally connected with instantly actualizing what is willed and a nolitio efficax with instantly preventing what is willed not to be by impeding and even destroying the object of will. So, this approach does not focus on willing itself, but deals with the whole issue in terms of actualizing and effecting. This pattern definitely colors the notion of permission, and we shall see when we turn to the ideas of a voluntas remissa and a nolitio remissa. God does not act on the basis of his nolition. He refrains from prevention, but preventing is not purely a matter of willing, but much more a matter of doing and effecting. What is at stake, are two modi of willing. However, Duns also offers his own application. Let us look at a nolition that is said to be remissa:

58 59

Ordinatio I 47.7: ‘Ita nollet quod tamen nollet ea prohibere.’ Ordinatio I 47.4: ‘Ita etiam “nolitio efficax” dicitur qua non tantum nolens impedit aliquid, sed si possit, omnino illud destruit.’

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A restrained nolition is a nolition by which that which is willed not to be, is seen unfit, but in such a way that the will does not prevent it.60 Scotus’ definitions of a restrained volition and a restrained nolition run parallel in a striking way. Again, impotence or ‘force majeure’ does not matter, for the will considers it in such a way that it does not prevent it, although it could do. Again, in both cases of a volition which is remissa, something is the object of willing and it is considered to be something to be done, for the involved person wills that something is not the case. Nevertheless, in spite of knowing that it is not fitting and not good, for it is wrong, the will does not prevent it and does not try to prevent it. 7.4.4.1 Some More Aspects of permissio Duns also adds some specifications and he does so in different directions. First, another person must be involved. Permitting something does not regard something to be done by myself. I can assess what I do or will do in several ways, but I cannot permit it. If my own doings are concerned, I know what I do, but if another person is involved, I do not know a priori what he does. If I do not know what he does, I cannot permit it. So, permission implies knowledge: permitting something presupposes that I know what I permit and that I know by whom it is to be done. I cannot say that I permit something that is not known to me, and done by someone who is not known to me. All these points are explicitly made by Duns Scotus: In ourselves [...] a restrained nolition seems to be – properly speaking – the permission of an evil known by me. For I am not said to permit that about which I know nothing,61 and what is said to be permitted must be that which I know to be badly done by someone else.62

60 61 62

Ordinatio I 47.4: ‘Nolitio remissa est qua ita displicet nolitum, quod non prohibeat illud esse, licet possit.’ Ordinatio I 47.5: ‘In nobis igitur nolitio remissa – proprie dicta – videtur esse permissio aliciuus mali quod scio: non enim dicor permittere ilud de quo nihil scio.’ Ordinatio I 47.5: ‘[…] illud quod scio ab alio male fieri.’

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It must also be something which I disapprove of. If it is said to be willed by me, it cannot be permitted by me. If something is permitted by me, it is not possible that it is something which is done by someone else in such a way that it pleases me.63 According to the effect and prevention approach, Duns proposes that permission rests on bracketing a nolitio: on God’s side it is restrained willing. So, this view can say that God wills to permit something, since he wills that it is not prevented. He refrains from effectuation. If God permits evil in this way, then what God permits, is still something that goes against his will. Permitting evil implies that God does not approve it.64 Permission is restrained nolition. 7.4.5 The Second Order Willing Approach: permissio II The first approach implies that permitting something can sadden God. It is clear that Duns is not happy with this implication and for this reason he offers an alternative in Ordinatio I 47.8-10: the last sections of Ordinatio I 47. Duns elaborates on the notion of permission by understanding permission as a certain aspect or characteristic of God’s will (signum voluntatis divinae), which is related to external reality in a specific way. How, then, is that relation between God’s permission and reality to be understood? Then it can be said that ‘permission outside [God]’ (or the sign) is that which is a result, but which yet is against a divine precept.65 As far as permission is external and related to external reality, it is related to something that occurs, but still runs counter to a divine precept. It is forbidden by God and he wills that it is not (nolle), but also not-willing must be at stake. God cannot will what is sinful. A special internal structure of the life of God’s will must be involved. Permission is a kind of divine willing,66 but how is it to be characterized? This willing is not based on a positive act of will, but only on a negative act of will. As far as divine willing itself is at stake, the foundation is not willing in combination with willing that not: 63 64 65 66

Ordinatio I 47.5: ‘[…] quod ita fit ab alio quod placet mihi.’ See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 186-8. 65 Ordinatio I 47.8: ‘Tunc potest dici quod permissio extra (vel signum) est quod effectus sit, quod tamen est contra praeceptum divinum.’ Ordinatio I 47.8: ‘Ista est permissio quae est signum voluntatis divinae.’

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not willing that not, which is the negation of a positive divine act, and, consequently, it is not positive.67 This explanation implies that God does not will that something does not happen. He does not will that it is not (non nolle) and this non nolle (not willing that not) is a negative act. In Ordinatio I 47.9 Duns summarizes his attempts to develop a new approach to divine permission,68 based on the insight that willing sin is not an option for God, for it is impossible that God wills someone to sin or that he causes someone to sin: He (= God) cannot will that he (= Judas) commits sin.69 Duns Scotus’ theology of rejection (or reprobation) is based on a negative act of will, which also turns out to be the cornerstone of his theory of permission. The decisive move is motivated by God’s own identity which is incompatible with willing sin. Ontological inevitability and strictly theological appropriateness are hand in glove. God has not an immediate act of will with respect to something he permits: And what is called ‘willing to allow’ can be understood, not in this way that he has a direct willing of that which he permits, but that he has a reflective act.70 Here, Duns makes use of the distinction between an actus rectus (a direct act) and an actus reflexus (a reflective act), but what does he mean by this? This distinction is also found in Ordinatio III 28. The theocentric nature of classic Christian theology intimately linked with the properties being good and being best possible and this structure is utterly transparent with Duns Scotus: 67

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See Ordinatio I 47.8: ‘Huic autem non correspondet aliquid in ipsa voluntate divina nisi non velle prohibere aliquid fieri, sive non nolle, quod est negatio actus divini positivi et per consequens non est positivus.’ For the notion of a negative act of will, see also §7.8: ‘The structure of rejection.’ For this expression, see Peter Lombard, Sententiae I 46 chapter 3, and I 47 chapters 1 and 2, and Augustine, Enchiridion, chapters 96 and 100. The intuitive basis of Scotus’ position is to be found in these Lombardian distinctions, but only in marginal sense. Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘Velle enim ipsum habere peccatum non potest.’ See also § 7.8. Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘Et quod dicitur “volens sinere,” hoc potest intelligi non quod habeat velle rectum circa illud quod permittit, sed actum reflexum.’

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[…] to love God in himself, which is simply good and a right act. Thus the good object of love is only God in himself.71 It is good, right and righteous to love Him above all who is above all. Theproper object of love (caritas) is God. Then, the issue is how the life of love is structured by the loving relationship with God: He is good in himself and is the first good. Second, it wills that God be loved by anyone whose love is perfect.72 Within this context Duns distinguishes between an actus rectus and an actus reflexus. The actus rectus of love is immediately related to God. Loving my neighbor is an actus reflexus which mediates the act of loving God: I will that that my neighbor also loves God as he is in himself so that I love him too. An actus reflexus directs itself to another act of the same kind. Such an act can also be an act of the same person: knowing that I know, if I know something, is also a reflective act. In this sense the term ‘actus reflexus’ is also used in the theory of permissio: His intellect offers He will sin or He sins to his will, and, first, his will does not have a volition about him […]; secondly, he can know his will, which does not will this, and then he can will that his will does not will this.73 Here, there is divine not-willing which is willed by God. This willing is to be contrasted with God’s willing of sin which the necessity model proposes. Christian theology was in need of new developments and new developments in the theory of will, including negative acts of will, are vital to Duns Scotus’ theory of divine willing. The notion of a negative act of will is integrated with the notion of a second order, reflective act of will: God wills that he does not will! This is also the meaning of ‘volens sinere’ = willing to allow/to let:

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Ordinatio III 28.10: ‘[…] diligere Deum in se, quod est simpliciter bonum et actus iustitiae, ita quod bonum obiectum est solus Deus in se.’ See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 46-6 and 70-3 and 79. Ordinatio III 28.9: ‘[Deus] est in se bonum et primum bonum, et secundario velle eum diligi a quocumque, si est perfecta dliectio eius.’ Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘Offert […] voluntati suae hunc peccaturum vel peccare, et primo voluntas eius circa hunc non habet velle […]; secundo, potest intelligere voluntatem suam non volentem hoc, et tunc potest velle voluntatem suam non velle hoc.’

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In this way it is said that he willingly allows and voluntarily allows, willingly permits and voluntarily permits.74 The decisive difference between the first solution and the alternative theory, is that the first solution is based on a positive act of will, a nolitio (Ordinatio I 47.3-7), whereas the new theory rests on the notion of a negative act of will (Ordinatio I 47.8-9) which is on its turn willed by God: Then he can, secondly, reflect on that negation of the act, and will it.75 In fact, Scotus says that this willing should be taken as a second order volition: The negative acts of will themselves are objects of willing, just as thoughts can be objects of thought.76 Scotus’ theory of rejection, or reprobation, in Ordinatio I 41 is anchored in his new theory of divine permission, and this theory of permission is only developed in Ordinatio I 47, and Ordinatio I 47 is only hinted at in Ordinatio I 41, but Scotus must have had the main ideas of his new solution, when he composed Ordinatio I 41. In Duns Scotus’ hands the doctrine of divine permissio has become a pure theory of will. It is not any longer a disguised theory of prevention. Preventing focuses on external action: I push somebody aside so that he is not hit by the stone, but the will cannot be pushed away and the will cannot be hit by a stone or an ax. The will can change and can be influenced. The life of the will can be improved and the will can convert itself, and, hopefully, the will does so, but the notion of prevention does not belong properly to the theory of will, and neither to the theory of permission. In sum, the notions of coercion and compulsion and the notion of prevention are not part and parcel of the theory of will – pace the tradition of ancient philosophy. The will cannot be coerced and an act of will cannot be prevented in the proper sense of ‘preventing.’

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Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘Et ita dicitur volens sinere et voluntarie sinere, volens permittere et vo­luntarie permittere.’ Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘Potest tunc secundo reflectere super istam negationem actus et velle eam.’ Duns refers back to Ordinatio I 41.50, and he also presents some rounding off of the doctrine of rejection. Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 188.

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301

The Finality of Election

As in later Reformed tradition, in Scotus’ thought, the concept of election has an eschatolo­gical cast. Various aspects of election in Duns Scotus’ view can be traced by starting with his definition in Reportatio Parisiensis III 7.4 (written in 1305): Election (praedestinatio) is the pre-ordination of someone who is to be glorified unto glory and to that which is ordered unto glory.77 In this definition typically Scotian elements blend with classic elements. Election is a singular act of God which springs from his will and has a relation of ordering to the final (eschatological) reality of human beings. The Scotian element is present in the expression ordinata ad gloriam. Election focuses on glory, on unbound happiness. Glory immediately flows from God’s essence. His essence can only be supremely good and, so, the primary goal of human beings can only be knowing and loving God as He deserves to be known and loved. Knowing and loving him in this way mean glorification. Since the primary object in every act is its final aim, the primary act of God’s will with respect to humans must be this loving knowledge, face to face with God. That is what He wills for us in the first place. Scotian thought is a way of thinking that radically begins with the end. It is thinking from the end. The doctrine of election is about our final goal, our destiny, the eternal pleasure of being in God’s company. Throughout the Middle Ages, it focuses on the visio Dei. What is the point of God’s acts, what is the point of human existence? The end of human history is not simply the result of that history. A destination is not constituted by the path to it, although a determi­nist model of diachrony would suggest this. There are many paths leading to Rome, although each one of them can be used to get somewhere else. Similarly, there are many roads to the heavenly Jerusalem. Means pre­suppose an end, although the means do not necessa­rily imply the end, and the end does not entail one specific means. How many means there may be, there is only one end: that which they ‘are all about.’ In this way we are lead to the outlines of the theory of action, which is very important to Scotus. A basic rule of this theory is that an act or a series of acts is ruled by its end – why is it done? So, the fundamental distinction for such a 77

Reportatio Parisiensis III 7.4 in Balic, Theologiae marianae elementa, 12: ‘Praedestinatio est praeordinatio alicuius glorificabilis ad gloriam et ad ordinata ad gloriam.’ Cf. Lectura II 20.22: ‘Unde praedesti­natio est prima actio,’ and Lectura I 40.4.

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theory is that between end/aim and means.78 If an act of ours is to be responsi­ ble, our willing has to be responsible as well. This means that it has to have a certain order, wich is basically structured by the priority of end over means. Duns’ eschatology is an illustra­tion of this principle: Prior to the good things that are ordered with respect to the happiness of the number of elect, God himself wills that happiness itself.79 It is possible to deduce what someone’s final goal is, from somet­hing that he has done. If a has done r, and r presup­ poses q and q presupposes p, a has done all this in order to actualize p – this is the pattern of Scotus’ eschatological doctrine of election. Duns Scotus had already defined the main principle of this theory of action when he was still an Oxonian bachelor. We find it in Lectura I 41.25, where a quaestio concer­ning election is discussed. The basic distinction between end and means is applied to act (agere): Everyone who acts because of an end, wills the end prior to that which is related to the end. No thing that is related to the end can, therefore, be the reason for the end. So, the reason for willing the end cannot be the reason for willing what is related to the end.80 When this basic rule is applied to election (praedestinatio), enjoying God – joyfully willing God because of God himself – is the end that is prior to the means. Applied to the traditional example of an elect: God wills for Peter the enjoyment of perfect happiness (which is his beatitu­do) prior to anything by which Peter can reach this goal. For this reason, Peter’s faith and his good use of his

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Duns consistently refers to this distinction as that between finis and id quod est ad finem, as we read in Lectura III 19.22: ‘Omnis ordinate volens prius velit finem quam id quod est ad finem.’ It gives also structu­re to the doctrine of election. Cf. Lectura III 19.20: ‘Primo volitum volitione ordinata omnibus est finis,’ and for the structural moments, see Lectura III 19.21. See § 3.3. For the methodology of structural moments, cf. DPhil §§ 6.4-6.6. Lectura III 19.22: ‘Prius voluit Deus determinato numero praedes­tinatorum beatitudinem quam meritum aliquod quod ad hunc finem ordinatur.’ Lectura I 41.25: ‘Omne agens propter finem, prius vult finem quam ea quae sunt ad finem. Nihil igitur quod est ad finem, potest esse ratio finis, nec ratio volitionis finis potest esse volitio alicuius ad finem.’ The parallel formulation in Ordinatio I 41.41 is entirely worded in terms of willing: ‘Ordinate volens finem et ea quae sunt ad finem, prius vult finem quam aliquod entium ad finem, et propter finem vult alia.’ In Lectura I 41.25 this sentence is followed by a beautiful application to election: ‘Frui Deo est finis in toto ordine praedestinationis.’

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freedom of choice cannot be the reason why God elects him for this enjoyment.81 Faith and well-used freedom are the paths leading to the end of election. Election itself, and the entire history moved by it, is motivated by its end, which rests in itself: being together in joy. 7.6

The Structure of Election

Necessitarianism itself is the problem, and if necessitarianism were to be true, there could not be any problem, but reality is contingent and predestination is contingency-based (see § 7.3). It would not make any spiritual sense to talk about predestination as a necessary act. Because the acts of predestination are contingent, the questions: what?, why? and how? arise. Therefore, complex questions with regard to election and reprobation are to be dealt with, but, then, the young John Duns spots two issues: the merit of election and the demerit of reprobation. He discusses several options: Augustine (Lectura I 41.5-6 // Ordinatio I 41.5), Peter Lombard (Lectura I 41.7-12 // Ordinatio I 41.6-11), an unknown author (Lectura I 41.13-15 // Ordinatio I 41.12-25) and Henry of Ghent (Lectura I 41.16-23 // Ordinatio I 41.26-39). Peter Lombard concludes that neither election, nor reprobation are based on merit, whereas Henry of Ghent concludes that both do. In Ordinatio I 41 Duns drops the term ‘meritum’ and asks whether there is some ratio involved. He proposes: not in the case of election, but surely in the case of reprobation. However, the whole drive behind the new and detailed argumentation is the dilemma how a reprobate can be condemned in a righteous and just way: If there is no ratio, either he is an elect, or his condemnation is cruel. Both options are untenable. It is crucial to see the point of the use of ‘ratio.’82 Duns Scotus’ approach does not imply that election and reprobation are unreasonable or have no reasons in the modern sense of reason. Election is God’s first act which is goodness-based and lands in the existence and the heart of the chosen one. This act has a final end (finis). Thus, it has its gracious81

82

Lectura I 41.25: ‘Frui Deo est finis in toto ordine praedestinati­onis et in bonis supernaturalibus, ita quod Deus prius vult Petrum frui beatitudine quam vult sibi aliquod quod est ad finem. Sed fides et nisus bene utendi praeamantur ut ad finem. Igitur, nullum istorum est ratio quare Deus praedestinat aliquem ad fruendum Deo. Sola igitur voluntas divina huiusmodi est causa.’ For the distinction between the composite and divided senses, see CF 128-44 and DPhil § 6.2. On Lectura I 41, see Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 146-64. On ratio, see DPhil 335-40, and cf. De Rijk, ‘A Special Use of ratio,’ in Ratio VII, 197-218.

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ness and charm, its goodness and reasonableness in itself: it has its own internal grounds, but no external ground – a ground exterior to the willing itself. So, election is based on what is characteristic for the identity of God. This dimension is relevant both for the elected and for the rejected ones, but the classic theory of election is not a structural analysis of what election is, for it deals with electing individually. However, elements that are crucial for the theory of election, are also constitutive as background for the reality of those who are not elected.83 God’s willing and the willing of the chosen one are in harmony with each other and they are attuned to each other. The act of election focuses on the final destination and end of human existence as far as it positively consists in the enjoyment of God (frui Deo). The end is a what?, not a why? Because it is the best to be done, it is for us the best possible to be done. As far as Duns himself is concerned, the simple upshot of Duns’ complicated treatment is that election is the best God can do, and reprobation, if it is done, is a just and righteous act.84 The priority of end or aim over means and the priority of destination over the ways it is arrived at, is the key to Scotus’ predestination thought. This means that the will by which someone is elected must have various layers – Scotus’ structural moments (instantia naturae). In Lectura III 19 he distinguishes four of them. The first structural moment of God’s election is: First, God has willed glory for a certain number of elected persons so that the first thing he has willed for them is the ultimate communion with himself as the final end which makes happy.85 This point of departure in the doctrine of election directly follows from Scotus’ ontology and ethics. Materially, it is determined by the personal nature of his theology, methodically by his concept of contingen­cy. This foundation also concerns reprobation. However, the classic theory of election is not about the structure of willing as based on God’s identity, but about individual election. Election, in its personal nature, has two focuses: the personal charac­ter of God himself and the ultimate nature of the relation to him which follows from this character and which is primarily eschatological. The first elective moment is therefore deter­mined by the primary gift God himself wills to be by the ultimate communion with himself (ultimata coniunctio ad se). The entire relation 83 84 85

For these aspects, see the end of this section and the end of § 7.8, and §7. 9. There is still more to be said in order to show that Duns’ way out is adequate and true. Lectura III 19.21: ‘Primo voluit Deus gloriam determinato numero electorum, ita quod primum quod voluit electis, fuit ultimata coniunctio ad se ut ad finem ultimum beatificum.’

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to God is filled by himself and propelled by his attractiveness, because God is who and what he is essentially. This ultimate point of view must rule the dyna­ mics of the relation from the beginning. What it eventu­ally is all about, must be at stake from the start. God primarily wills someone to have contact and union with himself! God’s primary relational intention is the eschatological relation to himself. An elect (electus or praedestina­tus) is defined by this intention: The first thing he has willed for the elect is the final attachment to himself. Eschatolo­gy has an eminent personal nature, since the eschaton eventually coincides with the Eschatos. So, the final goal of human existence and history is God ultimately connecting human beings to himself as to their ultimate end (ultimata coniunctio ad se ut ad finem ultimum). This end is the object of the first structural moment of willing in God’s election, since glory (gloria), which is the effect on someone ultimately attached to God, is the final destination of the elected individu­al and of all individuals who are elected. The urgent main aim is glory willed by God for them who enjoy his love and their love for him: First, God has willed glory for a certain number of elected persons. What, then, is the second structural moment of decision in the predestin­arian act of God with respect to certain possible individuals? Second, at the second structural moment he has ordered final grace, the conditio sine qua non for giving happiness.86 If God himself as gift is the object of election, what kind of act is the actual giving of final happiness itself? This elective act is a contin­gent and gracious act of God. Although at this structu­ral moment, sin plays no role as the foundational point on which this moment rests, this does not imply that the eternal happi­ness of the elect is somehow deserved by, or essential to them. Eternal happiness is God’s gracious and free gift, communicating the graciousness which is an essenti­al property of God. This grace of election is the final gift of eternal life as someone’s final destina­tion (gratia finalis).

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Lectura III 19.21: ‘Secundo, ordinavit gratiam finalem, in secundo instanti naturae, sine qua disposuit non dare beatitudinem.’

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Election as the final goal of human existence is absolutely original: although it is reached by the reality of a specific history or biograp­hy by consummating the whole of our history, it is still not implied, nor necessarily caused by this reality. It is a primary and basic­ moment in the relationship between God and man. The free and concrete contents of this moment determine what we are. Our history is, at bottom, the history of what we will to be; it does not start somewhere later or mid-way, but is from the very beginning related to its final harvest. We live the life of someone who is profoundly what she or he is. The glorious end is happy company and communion with God himself and this happy communion of friends­hip and love is only given as grace. It also colors and characterizes all our doings and experiences. It is the life we ought to live. This framework also determines the role of sin: At the third structural moment he has foreseen that they would fall in Adam.87 Here we find Scotus’ supralapsarianism in its full scope. According to a supralapsarian doctri­ne of election it is the elect who sins, but according to a infralapsarian doctrine, however, it is a sinner who is elected. Supralapsarian thinking starts with the end and the aim. It is infralapsa­rian to start with the factual beginning. For the elect conceived in a supralapsarian way, hamartiology and Chris­tology entirely belong to the history leading up to their final salvati­on, showing all that God does for them! At this level, history comes in. All share in a history of sin, since the factual history of our created reality is a history of universal sin. Since it is a history of universal sin, the elected individuals share this history of sin. So, what matters, is how persons relate to this history. Now, the history of sin has been introduced, but if we ask what can be done about it, we arrive at the fourth structural moment. What is the fourth structural moment about? At the fourth structural moment, he has foreseen the medicine of salvation which he has arranged most powerfully by the passion of Christ, which could more propitiate all – for whom the first man was displeasing – than he was displeasing. Hence, first Christ has been foreseen to be the comprehensor, and, in second instance, as the viator.88

87 88

Lectura III 19.21: ‘In tertio instanti praevidit lapsuros in Adam.’ Lectura III 19.21: ‘In quarto instanti praevidit remedium, quod potissime disposuit fieri per passionem Christi, quae plus pro omnibus potuit placare – pro quibus displicuit primus

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The fourth structural moment rests on the supralapsarian dimension of Christ’s existence. There is now a problem, but he who has to be there to solve the problem, is already there. He does not leave aside the work of his hands. His passion saves them whose destiny is to live for him and to love him. He is the one who is everything, the Alpha and the Omega in human existence. He is the one who is everything for them, and he is the one who does everything for them through his powerful passion by which he gave his own life. At this fourth level the actual history of salvation comes in. It tells how God relates to this history on the basis of the structure of his involvement as God incarnate with the history of mankind. At this structural moment he involves himself and foresees the medicine of salvati­on he arranged most powerfully by the passion of Christ. History meets the a priori structure of reality and his­ torical reality. God incarnate enjoys to be a priori the comprehensor, but in factual history the comprehensor acts as the suffering Servant and the Man of Sorrows.89 Duns Scotus’ main idea is a simple one, resting on the emancipation from the views of necessary time and necessary history. Then, time and history would make man, but if reality and history are open, we live and act from what we essentially are. Our essential properties characterize us as agents and delineate our agency in time and history, but we are not the upshot of time and history, and certainly not their victim. We act in time and history and make history. Essential properties mark out our agency possibilities and history gives the filling in­. We find a dense and lucid formulation of the basic pattern of human existence and the web of theories we need in order to clarify it in Lectura III 19: God has elected others to be related to him by loving himself.90 Why does the charter of Christian theology consist in this pattern? The positive answer reads: God does everything he does from his love and he does everything he does lovingly, since the whole of God’s agency is based on his identity and since his identity expresses itself in his love, for he is love. All this is accompanied by a negative answer:

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homo – quam ipse displicuit. Unde Christus prius praevisus est ut comprehensor, et pos­ tea ut viator.’ See also § 3.2. An elaborate and ramified theology of the incarnation and biblical theology of God incarnate has still to deal with many more aspects when we compare it with the historical process and its a priori structures. Lectura III 19.31: ‘Deus – diligendo se – praedestinavit alios ad se.’

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I do not see that the election of anyone has been caused occasionally.91 Election cannot be caused occasionally, since it is willed and it is a matter of willing of both parties. Both parties will positively in the case of election: God wills the loving person who wills him, and the elect wills the loving person God is. The methodological consequences of Scotus’ theology of contin­gency are huge. For instance, in the theory of time synchronic contingency disconnects one moment from the next. It shows that there is no absolute time in the sense of a necessary flow of moments. Each moment stands by itself. In this way the term moment gains an extra meaning: to the concept of the same moment the concept of a structural moment (instans naturae) is added, showing the internal structure of each moment-in-time.92 The first structural moment is the decisive one. The basic idea of a classic supralapsari­an election of a number of chosen individuals (determi­natus numerus electorum) must come from Duns Scotus. It was develo­ped within the context of supra­lapsarian Christology, alt­hough it originated in biblical faith. Seen from the history of the theory of predestination, Scotus’ supralapsarianism joins the older Oxonian supralapsarianism in Christolo­gy, at least as far as its design is concerned. John Duns adds his structural approach to the already functioning tradition. The basic structures of reality do not feed on sin. Duns’ investigation of the struc­ture of election springs from the predesti­nation of Jesus Christ. When the structure of election is discussed, Scotus often refers to the supralap­sarian motive for the incarnation. So, his doctrine of election is embedded in the doctrine of incarnation which, in turn, is embedded in the ethics of divine and human acting. We may ask how Lectura III 7 and 19, Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 and Ordinatio III 7 and 19 are related. In a short time Duns recurs to these specific problems five times, for he had already addressed them, in general, in Lectura I 40-41, Reportatio Parisiensis I 40-41 and in Ordinatio I 40-41. Some additional insights were developed in Lectura II 20.21-29, the basis of which has an axiomatic character: God’s willing is supremely ‘in order.’ From willing the end follows willing what is directly connected to the end. Since the end is God himself, this end is primarily willed by him for any being who is to be made happy by him (natura beati­ficabilis).93 Against this background, it is clear that election is 91 92

93

Lectura III 19.31: ‘Non video praedestinationem alicuius esse occasionatam.’ From this it folllows that ante can mean ‘(chronologically) befo­re’ in some contexts, but in other contexts it unambiguously indicates an essential order: the ante naturâ (mind the ablativ). See Lectura II 20.22.

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God’s primary act. Lectura II 20 offers the best basis for connecting not only the parallel texts of Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 and Ordinatio III 7, but also those of Lectura Oxoniensis III 19 and Ordinatio III 19. So, we have a Lectura I 40-based structure: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Election is an act of the will of God, by which a kind of ordering is actualized, with respect to one specific person: it is person-based, yet not with respect to the existence of that person, but with respect to his glorification (gloria): the point of view is eschatological; 6. election also has the connotation of an act of divine foreknow­ledge.94 On the basis of Lectura I 40.6, 8 and 9, and, even more clearly, on the basis of Ordinatio I 40.4-6 we add: 7. election is an eternal act of God’s will, 8. which is synchronically contingent. Lectura III 7 does not refer to the structural moments, but Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 shows the ordo praedestinationis even twice.95 The second time it is presented com­ple­tely: Therefore, I say the follo­wing: First (at the first structural moment) God loves himself. Second, he loves himself for others, and this is pure love. Third, he wills to be loved by him who can love him supremely (here we speak of love of someone exterior to God). Fourth, he has foreseen the union of that nature which ought to love him supremely, even if no one were to have fallen.96 94 95

96

See § 7.3.2. The Scotian project of the ordo praedestinationis is an investiga­tion of the conceptual structures of the processus praedestinationis, which consists in justification (making gracious), change of (free) will and forgiveness of sin. Compare McGrath, Iustitia Dei I 42-51. Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4 (in Balic (ed.), Scoti theologi­ae marianae elementa, 14-15): ‘Dico ergo sic: Primo, Deus diligit se; secundo, diligit se aliis et iste amor castus; tertio, vult diligi ab illo qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicuius extrinseci; et quarto, praevidit unionem illius naturae quae debet eum summe diligere etsi nullus cecidisset.’

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The last sentence refers to supralapsari­an incarnati­on making clear how the doctrine of election is founded on necessary ethics. Now, we can also see the interaction of the different structural analyses. We start with the Christological analysis: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

God’s will as love for himself; God’s love as love for others; God’s will to beloved most highly; incarnation as the implication of this will to be loved, and God incarnate as the Christ of history: Mediator and Redeemer.97

The Christological analysis fits in with the anthropological one, for the fifth step meets the fourth step: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

the pre-ordination of the highest glory of Christ; the election of the human nature to be united with the Word; the incarnation to live the life of the greatest love;98 what serves the chosen ones; the fall of the wicked; the redemption by the Mediator.99

This structure has to be combined with anthropological election, dealt with in the present section: 1. 2. 3. 4. 97 98

99

Election is an act of the will of God, by which a kind of ordering is actualized, with respect to one specific person: it is person-based, yet not with respect to the existence of that person, See the upshot of § 3.3: ‘The crucial Christ.’ Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4 (in Balic (ed.), Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 12): ‘Aliquid est ordinabile ad tantam gloriam non decet ordinare purae creaturae. Subsistenti enim in Verbo decet ordinare maiorem gloriam quam alicui purae creaturae existenti in se, et talis gloria non potest cadere sub merito, ideo talis natura potest ordinari ad talem unionem, quae est naturae humanae ad Verbum, quae est prima ad tantam gloriam, quanta est collata Christo, et tunc est congruentia aliqua, quare aliqua gloria potest cadere sub merito creaturae, et aliqua non potest, et ibi decens est praeordinare unionem, quae est prima ad tantam gloriam, quanta non potest cadere sub merito purae creaturae.’ Reportatio Parisiensis III 7 quaestio 4 (in Balic (ed.), Scoti theologiae marianae elementa, 13): ‘[…] deinde mediatio et redemptio.’

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5. but with respect to his glorification (gloria): the point of view is eschatological; 6. election also has the connotation of an act of divine foreknow­ledge.100 7. election is an eternal act of God’s will, 8. which is synchronically contingent. This ordering shows that in the entire structure of divine willing incarna­tion precedes human election, sin and redemption – or rather: primarily, election is the election of Christ and, secon­darily, the election of human beings in Christ. Within the structure of election, the three first steps represent the ontological dimension of Christology, which does not become soteriologi­cal until the fourth step. Up to the fifth step the structure of election has an ontological nature. Thus, Duns shows that God’s first concern is the foundation of being and its ultimate well-being. Being and salvation coincide with respect to their end. God does not refrain from his original intentions. He does not betray the work of his hands. Creation and incarnation are the rockbottom of history. For that reason, the fulfillment of salvation cannot mean the elimination of the incarnation nor that of being as it is originally meant.101 7.7

The Number of the Elect and the Fall

The classic doctrine of predestination has often been subjected to the suspicion of raising almost insuperable complications and embarrassments. These objecti­ons are hardly substantial, but this does not mean that this doctrine does not have its thorny sides. There are basically two of them and they go back to Augustine: the relation between eschatolo­gical destiny and dying, and the theory of the fall of some angels. These two complica­tions can easily be removed from the doctrine of grace and predesti­nation as such.102 One might speak of a mythical side to the doctrine of predestination. Anselm, for example, has worded it in his De casu diaboli: the earthly elect fill in the empty places of fallen angels so that the number of the blessed in heaven 100 101

102

See § 7.3 (at the end). Duns’ personal approach as well as the contents and the impact of his theology can be elucidated in contrast with the extremely infralapsarian Christology of the Dutch theologian A.A. van Ruler which ends up in the final elimination of the incarnation. The Augustinian bond between dying and our eschatological destiny has to be unlinked. Mercy is an essential property of God which does not stop to work when we have died. Such an approach is incompatible with supralapsarian ontology.

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is complete after all. Salvation history on earth serves the comple­tion of the ‘history’ of heaven. In an apocalyp­tic sense the earth is determinated by heaven. These ideas, however, are not implied by the contents and structure of the doctrine of God as such, nor by the theory of divine proper­ties. On the contra­ry, they run against them. They illustra­te that rediscovering and extending classic theology is not sufficient, for recon­structing and repairing are needed as well. There is a human counterpart of Lucifer’s fall and its theological complication: Adam’s fall. What is the impact of Adam’s fall on the doctrine of predesti­ nation? Here infralapsaria­nism and supralapsarianism go their separate ways. For infralapsa­rianism, Adam’s fall makes all the difference, because before the fall there is no election. God does not elect human beings, but only sinners. All his acts, the incarnation included, fall within the context of sin. For supralapsarianism the opposite is true. Sin means an enormous complication, but does not complicate God’s predestination, nor his incarnation. The elect are elected any way. It has no bearing on the means nor the goal of salvation history. How does John Duns handle Adam’s fall? In Cur Deus homo I 18 Anselm formulates the traditional view that the perseverance of the first human beings would have resulted in beati­tude for their entire offspring. This view troubles Duns a great deal. In Oxford an auctoritas Anselmi has considerable weight. Duns takes the following position: I say, however, that children born in the state of innocence would not have been confir­med, because otherwise their will would not have been fulfilled by the final end by which it is only fulfilled. The will which is not fulfilled with respect to its final end, can strive for that which it does not have if it does not have reached the final end. Conse­quently, it did not have a complete confirmation.103 Once again Duns’ sense for contingency creates more open­ness. He sees that Adam’s good deeds do not have strict implicati­ons for his children’s acts of faith, not even when they are born in the state of justice, having the original justice (iustitia). Bad deeds of parents do not have a necessary bearing on the children. Our existence is not determined by the rule that ‘the fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.’104 The opposite, 103 104

Lectura II 20.6, cf. Lectura II 20.2 and 5. Quoted in Jeremiah 31:29 and Ezekiel 18:2. Jeremiah 31:30 continu­es with: ‘Everyone will die for his own sin.’

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however, is not true either. Despite the differences in circumstances and influences every human being has the same structural stand in reality. There is no grandpa or grandma arranging hell or heaven: I say that although he (a son of Adam having not sinned) were to have had that justice, he could have lost it, and if he were to have sinned, his son would have been born in original sin.105 Diachronic developments do not alter the structure of reality and history. There­fore, I say that if the first human being retained original justice, as far as he is concerned, anyone else would have original iustice. Yet that original justice could be corrupted in someone else by the act of another person.106 The structu­re of an event cannot be read from the temporal sequence of events. So, for Duns, the contingent nature of reality has consequences for the relation between Adam’s obedience or disobedien­ce and our acts. The same insight is applied to Anselm’s theory that the elect are saved in order to repair the damage done by the fall of angels.107 In Lectura II 20.22 Duns offers an extensive analysis of election. His guiding principle is that circumstances and occasions (occasiones) – the dimension of means – do not affect the election nor the number of elect. So, neither the perseverance or fall of angels nor the fall or perseverance of Adam influence God’s election. There is no election depending on other causes. The stum­bling of an angel, or the first man, or someone else, or our own stumbling do not as such wrap us in eternal darkness. Duns starts with the end. Reality is ruled by its eschatolo­gical dimensi­on. God’s willing has this quality in the most excellent form. ‘The goal God primarily wills is most of all he himself.’108 This end immediately determines the 105 106

107

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Lectura II 20.9: ‘Dico quod licet filius eius habuisset illam iustitiam, tamen potuit amisisse illam; et si ille peccasset, filius eius fuisset in peccato originali genitus.’ Lectura II 20.10: ‘Unde dico quod primo homine servante iustitiam suam originalem, quantum est ex parte sui quilibet haberet iustitiam origi­nalem. Tamen per actum alterius potuit in alio corrumpi illa iustitia originalis.’ See Lectura II 20.24: ‘Sequitur etiam quod illi qui sunt electi, non salvabuntur propter ruinam angelorum restaurandam, quia [...] sive angeli cecidissent sive non, iidem electi essent qui nunc.’ Lectura II 20.22: ‘Omnis ordinate volens, post volitionem finis vult immediatum fini. Deus autem est summe “ordinate volens,” et finis quem ipse primo vult, est ipsemet.’ Cf. Lectura I 41.25 and Lectura III 19.20-2.

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decisi­ve relation creatu­res have to him. A different history of Adam and his children­ cannot change structures. Means cannot overrule an end, a road cannot surpass its destina­tion: Therefore what comes first is very determi­nate and not subject to change, no matter how what comes later changes. Thus, the election of the elect does not change, because it has priority over the foreknowledge of the fall. Whate­ver the fall of human beings or angels may be, no change concerning the status of the elect or the persons or their number has occurred because of it.109 According to Duns, the num­ber of elect before and after the fall is the same. If the state of innocence were permanent, there would be as many elect as there are now (Lectura II 20.21). Salvation history does not hinge on the fall of Adam as such. Duns’ advice, therefo­re, is not to worry too much about the fall of Adam, nor to be very glad with it, since the same number, and only those who would have been saved, will be saved now by the Redee­mer.110 […] Second, it also follows that Christ has not been elected because of the sin of the first human being, but he would have been there even if the first human being were not to have sinned.111 Here, we meet the Christological background of Duns Scotus’ doctrine of election.112

109

110 111 112

Lectura II 20.22: ‘Unde quamcumque variationem recipiant posterio­ra, priora tamen determinatissima sunt et nullam recipiunt variationem. Et sic praedestinatio electorum, cum sit prior quam praevisio lapsus: quali­tercumque se habuerit de lapsu hominum et angelorum, nulla tamen propter hoc facta est variatio circa statum electorum nec circa personas eorum.’ The point is to see that all these statements are necessary truths. If we hear impossible elements in them, not the elements, but our interpretation has to be reassessed. We have also to keep in mind that Duns thinks in terms of Actua and God’s willing in Actua. Comparing Lectura I 41.25 with Lectura II 20.22 and Ordinatio I 41.45 is truly instructive. Lectura II 20.23: ‘Non oportet multum dolere nec gaudere de lapsu Adae, quia iidem numero et tantum illi qui tunc fuissent salvati, salvabun­tur modo per Redemptorem.’ Lectura II 20.25: ‘Sequitur etiam quod Christus non est electus propter peccatum primi hominis, sed fuisset etsi primus homo non peccas­set.’ See the preceding section and cf. chapter 3.

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315

The Structure of Rejection

7.8.1 The Basicality of God’s Goodness God’s agency presupposes that every essential property is involved in every contingent act of God. God’s agency works in a reality which is as such contingent. Therefore, God’s acts and human acts are as such free.113 Sinning and not-sinning, election and rejection are contingent matters and imply as such freedom. Moreover, every act of God is as such good, righteous and merciful. The divine identity shines whenever God acts. The warmth and light of eternal life and God’s gracious will shine upon everybody, inviting everybody to live with and in this reality. There must be something to be welcomed and there must be something to be rejected. The possibility of willing the final end is the first moment of willing. The second moment is concerned with that which serves this end. Within this context an Augustini­an rule arises: We always ascribe to God what is good in us, but what is bad, we ascribe to ourselves.114 Peter Lombard stresses clearly in Sententiae II 37 – chapter 2 –, that God is not the auctor malorum and Duns stresses too that the origin of sin is not in God: God cannot sin and he cannot cause sin in someone else.115 This view is not Duns’ idiosyncratic opinion, but it is the common Christian view. How, then, can condemna­ti­on be analyzed in terms of moments of willing? Duns does not think that election and reprobation are symmetric. These two acts of the divine will have a different ordo. We have seen how he analyzes the structure of election (§ 7.5), but how does he analyze the structure of 113

114

115

A commentary on the Sentences also belongs to the quaestio literature which mainly focuses on one issue. Thus, in general, the internal connections with other issues are not made explicit. Here, Duns is also exceptional, because his treatments are more systematic, but they are still not ‘systematic’ in the nineteenth-century sense of the word. We have to show the whole picture ourselves. Lectura I 41.27: ‘Hoc bene consonat Deo, nam semper ea quae bona sunt in nobis, attribuimus Deo, sed malum attribuimus nobis.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 41.46: ‘Bona omnia attribuuntur Deo principaliter, mala autem nobis.’ For a first analysis of the structure of reprobation, see DS 153-5. Lectura II 34-37.134: ‘Deus non potest peccare nec potest peccatum in alio causare.’ Cf. Ordinatio II 34-37 quaestio 2 n. 11: ‘Tenetur commu­niter quod voluntas divina non potest esse causa peccati.’

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rejecti­on? Lectura I 41 has no detailed analysis of rejection or reprobation. Concerning repro­bati­on, Duns says he is not quite sure: he states sine assertione that, although there is no ground for election, there is a ground for reprobati­on – namely, someone’s sin. According to Duns, in the case of election the basis of election consists in being a gift of God, but in the case of reprobation there must be a negative human meritum. If there were nothing one would deserve, God’s justice and compas­sion would fail, for someone’s condemnation would be cruel. Scotus provisional position is: To will to avenge presup­poses that another wills to sin. Hence, God cannot will to condemn anyone unless it is just. Therefore, with respect to the fact that God does will condemn someone, it is necessary that that person must be presented to him as a sinner, and not just as a creature.116 In Lectura I 41 important questions are not discussed. Ordinatio I 41 deals with many more issues and the second half – Ordinatio I 41.43-57 – is entirely new.117 The provisio­nal solution of the Lectura is now presented as the magisterial solution. There is an asymmetry between election and reprobation: no meritum for election, a demeritum for reprobation or rejection. The warmth and light of eternal life is the direct effect of God’s gracious act of will with respect to someone, but the act of rejection arises from a different concrete situation. For understanding the act of rejection we have also to turn to distinctions Ordinatio I 46 and 47. An initial exposition is found in his discussion of the position of Henry of Ghent who argues that the use of free will is a reason for election, in Lectura I 41 and Ordinatio I 41: ‘God foresees that Peter will use it well, whereas Judas will use it bad­ly.’118 Duns disapproves of the approach of Henry of Ghent, although, of course, John Duns and Henry of Ghent do not disagree on this foreseeing itself, but on the issue how it is exactly related to election. Duns raises the 116

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Lectura I 41.26: ‘Velle ulcisci praesupponit alium velle peccare. Unde non potest Deus aliquem velle damnare nisi quia iustum est. Oportet igitur quod ad hoc quod Deus velit aliquem damnare, quod offeratur sibi ut peccator, et non in puris naturalibus.’ See Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 160-4. When we compare Lectura I 41.1-27 with Ordinatio I 41.1-42, we see that Duns had already extended his original stuff. He did so in Paris in 1302. See § 1.4 and cf. DPhil § 2.2.1. On Lectura I 41, see Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 146-64. Lectura I 41.22: ‘Deus praevidet Petrum bene usurum et Iudam male usurum, quia ordinat sic.’ Cf. Lectura I 41.16-21 and Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 157-60.

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question why God would preordain that Peter uses his free will well, whereas Judas does not use his free will well. Which struc­tural moments have to be discerned in the divine willing? Duns adduces two theological axioms: Whatever is good, has to be ascribed to God,119 but something bad or wrong cannot be the direct object of God’s will.120 However, if sin plays arole in the doctrine of rejection, which differs from its role in the doctrine of election, we must conclude that there cannot be one and the same processus praedes­tinationis et reprobationis because of the principle that we assign all that is good to God and what is evil to ourselves. For God every human being is a creatura beatificabi­lis: God can make a human person happy. The final goal of a human being is perfect happiness, but God cannot will this in the one and the same way, because if he were to will this, then everybody would have the same kind of personal history. A human person can eventually accept this ultimate happiness and a human person can eventually reject this. God enjoys a universal deontic will with respect ultimate happiness, but there are different acts of will in actual reality. 7.8.2 The Structural Moments In the theory of rejection Duns decidedly starts with the negative disjunct of the basic necessary disjunction of the doctrines of election and rejection, where p states that there is glory for a: God wills that p or God does not will that p. Whereas the doctrine of election starts from the first disjunct, the second disjunct is the starting point of the doctrine of rejection, for in Ordinatio I 41.45 Duns uses a negative act of will (actus negativus voluntatis divinae). The doctrine of election starts with the structu­ral moment affirming the willing of happiness: At the first structural moment God wills happiness for Peter,121 and Duns continues to ask, what God does will for Judas at the first structural moment. If God as such wills condemnation for Judas, he condemns Judas without any reason, but if he wills happiness for Judas, then there is no room 119 120 121

See note 113. See Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘Velle enim ipsum habere peccatum non po­test’ and note 114. Ordinatio I 41.44: ‘Deus – per te – primo vult Petro beatitudi­nem.’ Duns executes an internal dialogue: per te (= Duns). See § 7.5.

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for rejection. In that case the election of Judas and being elected are the only possibilities. So – in terms of the biblical metaphor of eternal life, represented by the medieval notion of glory – the point of departure must be that God does not will eternal life for Judas: At the first structural moment God wills nothing for Judas. There is only the denial of the act of willing the glory.122 At the first structural moment God does not will that glory will actually be given to Judas. Duns empha­sizes that this ‘not-willing’ is a negative act of will (a negatio volitionis with respect to Judas’ gloria). This type of willing is to be formulated as: a does not will that p. As such it is the very opposite of a positive act of will, which is to be formu­lated as: a wills that p. Once again, the position of the negation (non) is decisive. The first premiss is not based on a nolitio. It is wrong to start from a nolition. Duns states that ‘not-willing’ is a negative act and this willing can be formulated as: a does not will that p. It is the very opposite of the positive act of will­: a wills that p. A nolition is not just the opposite of a volition and, so, the denial of a nolition is neither just the opposite of a volition. The last part of Ordinatio I 47.9, which offers a new theory of permission,123 goes back to the doctrine of rejection in Ordinatio I 41.45: If Judas has been presented to God, first, he has no will to bring him to glory.124 This structural moment is identical with the aforementioned first structural moment of Ordinatio I 41.(43-)45. Here, Duns again starts with not willing on God’s side, not with willing that not. On the contrary, now he explicitly rejects this possibility: […], and this is not true: there is first willing that not.125

122 123 124 125

Ordinatio I 41.45: ‘In illo instanti nihil vult Iudae. Tantum est ibi negatio volitionis gloriae.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 41.40-41. See § 7.4.5. Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘Praesentato sibi Iuda, primo, Deus habet non velle gloriam.’ Here, Duns also confirms the last alternative – his ow proposal – in Ordinatio I 41. Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘[…], et non, primo nolle.’

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First, Duns stresses that what matters is a negative act of will (non velle), and, second, he explicitly denies the parallel nolition: willing that not (nolle). What he denies, is just the foundation of the first theory of permission of Ordinatio I 47, and what he embraces here, is exactly the foundation of the second theory of permission in Ordinatio I 47.8-9. Moreover, with respect to this first structural moment Duns yet makes another comment: Then, second, he can reflect on this negation of the act and will it.126 So, we meet a new structural moment in Ordinatio I 47.9: God wills that he does not will the glory for Judas. Now, we address the second structural moment: And likewise, just at the second structural moment, when he wills grace for Peter, there is not yet a positive act of divine will with respect to Judas, but only a negative one.127 At the second structural moment God again has a negative act of will: God refrains from willing justifying grace for Judas, for it cannot be otherwise: If God can will happiness and grace for anyone irrespective of what humans are willing, then he can only will happiness and grace for anyone irrespective of what humans are willing. He can only elect and then all possible criticism on God’s part is excluded. A divine No would be impossible and final human rebellion would be impossible. However, such alternatives are ontologically impossbile and they also lack existential realism as if all of us decidedly wish to love God and to obey to God. Good Friday would be impossible, but it is not impossible, it is a fact. The point is not that we are threatened by a possible cruelty or crudity on God’s part – they are impossible for God. The only point is that there is a human No to God, and, therefore, it must be possible, and even if there were no such facts, there would be the real possibility of saying No.

126 127

Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘[…], potest tunc secundo reflectere super istam negationem actus et velle eam.’ Ordinatio I 41.45: ‘Et similiter, quasi in secundo instanti natu­rae, quando vult Petro gratiam, adhuc nullus actus positivus voluntatis divinae est circa Iudam, sed tantum negativus.’ Here, Duns utilizes the technical terms ‘actus positivus (voluntatis)’ and ‘actus negativus (voluntatis).’

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Open reality requires the possibility of sinning and, therefore, open reality requires divine permission. Duns Scotus uses his own specific theory of divine permission. God’s permission is not only indispensable in the doctrine of rejection, but also in the doctrine of election and salvation. Although Peter is no peccator, he is still someone who sins and, thus, the notion of permission also pops in, when election is at stake. At the third structural moment, when God wills to permit that Peter belongs to a mass doomed to perdition or worthy of perdition […], then he wills to permit that Judas is a son of perdition in a similar way.128 At the third structural moment God permits Judas to be ‘a son of perdition’ or ‘a son of corrupti­on.’ God wills this permission. This is God’s first positive act of will with regard to Judas, which runs exactly parallel to the case of Peter, although their status is different: Peter sins as a person who is worthy of perdition and Judas as a son of perdition. And this is the first positive act – certainly a uniform one – regarding Peter and Judas, but the proposi­tion Judas will be finally a sinner (peccator) is true on the basis of this act, taking into account those negations, namely that he does not will that he gives him grace and glory.129 The third structural moment of willing has a willed act of permissi­on both in the case of Peter and in that of Judas. So, the role of the theory of permission is also vital in the doctrine of election and, of course, it is constitutive in the doctrine of reprobation.130 Mind that in this act of permission God’s willing is not immediately related to what Peter and Judas are doing and willing. God does 128

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130

Ordinatio I 41.45: ‘In tertio instanti, quando vult permittere Petrum esse de massa perditionis sive dignum perditione [...], tunc vult permittere Iudam simili modo esse filium perditionis.’ The usage of massa perditionis and, directly, filius perditionis derives from II Thessalonians 2:3: son of destruction, or man doomed to destruction: ho huios tès apolei­as, the son of apoleia, although the Scotian meaning is quite different: the New Testament usage is generalized to indicate someone who is a sinner (peccator) who consistently rebels against God. Such a peccator can convert himself to God, or continues his policy. Ordinatio I 41.45: ‘Et hic est primus actus positivus – uniformis quidem – circa Petrum et Iudam, sed ex isto actu est istud verum Iudas erit finaliter peccator.’ Cf. II Thessalonians 2:3. Ordinatio I 41.45: ‘Hic est primus actus positivus – uniformis quidem – circa Petrum et Iudam, sed ex isto actu est istud verum Iudas erit finaliter peccator, positis illis negationibus, scilicet quod non vult sibi dare gratiam nec gloriam.’

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not will that Peter and Judas are doing wrong, but he wills that he does not will what they will.131 At the fourth structural moment it is assumed that Judas willingly deviates from God’s good will: Therefore, at the fourth structural moment, ­Judas is finally presented to the divine will as a sinner, and then God wills to punish and to reject Judas righteously.132 If Judas willingly deviates from God’s will, then God’s knowledge is familiar with it and God’s will only accepts this sinful willing as far as it is Judas’ willing, but God does not will that Judas is sinning when he is sinning to the end (finaliter peccare). As a consequence, God’s will rightly and righteously rejects Judas by rejecting what he is doing. The decisive point of view in Duns’ doctrine of predestination is that election does not have an external and independent ground in human beings, whereas the final reproba­tion or rejection has an external and objective ground. The reason for election is God’s desire to make someone a partici­pant of his goodness and his doing so creates the life of grace. Loving God is the effect of God’s goodness and, so, election is an act of God’s goodness. The human act of willing God is not an independent and external ground. The reason for God’s condem­na­tion, however, must relate to someone’s sinning to the end (peccatum mortale fina­le).133 The definite will by which a peccator wills to run counter to God’s good will presupposes that there is a primary good will of God with respect to the peccator. He can only say No, if there is something to say No to. However, the aspect of God’s will which is involved here, is the deontic will of God, and not the actual will, although the deontic will also functions in actual reality. The wrong willing of the peccator deserves to be refused and to rejected, since wrong doing deserves it to be rejected: it deserves a No! However, vice versa, there is no parallel component to such sinning which deserves it to be accepted by God, for everyone who loves God in his love is accepted by God. The human Yes is willed by God, but 131

132 133

On Duns Scotus’ sophisticated theory of divine permission, see §7.4 and Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 178-92. Luther, Zwingli and Calvin have no doctrine of divine permission. Ordinatio I 41.45: ‘In quarto ergo instanti, offertur Iudas ut peccator finaliter, voluntati divinae, et tunc ipse vult iuste punire et reprobare Iudam.’ Ordinatio I 41.46: ‘Ipsum velle damnare non videtur immediate posse attribui respectu obiecti ut cogniti in puris naturalibus suis, sed tantum respectu obiecti ut cogniti in peccato mortali finali.’

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the human No is not willed by God. This is the foundation of the asymmetry at work in the theory of rejection. If there is the complaint that God’s two first acts of will are negative by suggesting that it is not Judas who is to be blamed, but God, this complaint is unfounded, since it does not see that these acts of willing are anchored in necessary truths. It makes also the assumption that eternal acts have causal force. What is at stake, is a structural analysis,and not a causal one. All earlier steps are presupposed in the later ones. It is a structural analysis of the whole situation, and not a causal explanation where one step causes the next step. The basic pattern of an analysis in terms of structural moments is that an earlier moment is as such a necessary condition for a later moment.134 This pattern implies that an earlier structural moment of the structure of rejection is a necessary condition of a later structural moment. Therefore, the crucial point is what is at stake in the last step: the last structural moment. Something actual in time has to be explained – not something eternal. 7.8.3 The Element of Necessity In a contingent reality there can be persevering sinners. If a sins in this way, God does not will it, for it is impossible that he wills it. This last structural moment is eventually anchored in the first moment of the structure of rejection which is simply elicited by the contradiction God wills that p (= a eschatologically loves God) and God does not will that p. The first structural moment of the processus reprobationis is elaborated on the basis of the second conjunct of this contradiction. The essential feature of Duns’ renewal of systematic thinking is the insight that the conjunctions God wills that p and God does not will that p and God wills that p and it is possible that God does not will that p

134

On structural moments and formal distinctions, compare DPhil 245-9 with 257-9 (§ 6.7.5: ‘Formal non-identity’).

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have not to be dealt with in the same way. The opponents claim that both are inconsistent, but, according to John Duns, the first conjunction is, but the second is definitely not. It is necessarily true that it is possible that God does not will that p. If we think that this proposition has to be excluded, then we have to accept: If God wills that p, then it is not possible that God does not will that p. However, it is not possible that not-p is equivalent to it is necessary that p. Therefore, if God wills that p (= a escha­tologically loves God), then it is necessary that God wills that p. So, the conclusion that Judas cannot be lost, can only be arrived at the expense of the conting­ency of historical reality. If so, historical reality has to be necessary, but this option is an impossible one, for necessitarianism is impossible.135 Without the ontological space as explained with the design of the structural moments there is simply no possibility for Judas to will what he himself definitely wills to do. The point of view in Duns’ doctrine of predestination is that election and rejection relate to human life in different ways. In the life of election, somebody is not revolting any more against God, and in the life of rejection there certainly is still a rebel in the end. The reason for election is God’s desire to make someone a partici­pant of his goodness. The reason for God’s condem­na­tion, however, must be someone rejecting him and sinning definitely (peccatum mortale fina­le).136 However, this is just rejecting to be a participant of his goodness. 7.8.4 Final Dilemmas A crucial dilemma implied in Duns Scotus’ views is: How is God certain of Judas’ final sin? Is God not too passive? Another question is how the claim can be be avoided that God wills that Judas sins? Is God not too active? The first question is answered by introducing the negative act of willing which has nothing to do with passivity and Duns discusses it in Ordinatio I 47.9:

135 136

See DPhil §§ 16.4-6, cf. chapter 14, and KN chapters 6-8. See Ordinatio I 41.46, but to elect is simply good. Cf. § 46 with Lectura I 41.27.

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He offers He will sin or He sins to his will, and, first, his will does not have willing with respect to him […]. Second, he can know his will, which does not will this, and then he can will that his will does not will this.137 The first move concerns the reality of the proposition a will sin or a sins. It is offered to the divine will, and notice that God does not will that a will sin/a sins is a necessarily valid conclusion, since a will sin and a sins are impossible objects of the divine will. The next step is also a necessary one, for God knows as such the life of his will. He knows that he does not will a’s sinning, and, so, it has to be concluded: He can will that his will does not will this. Duns’ answer implies that God knows all his acts of will; moreover, God’s creative activity is presupposed. Willing his permissi­on, which is an act of will of a special kind­, preculudes that God is too much involved in sinning and since this is crucial to rejection, let us resume the structural moments of divine willing: God does not will someone to sin, but if someone sins and persists in sinning, then these moments are at stake: 1. God refrains from willing this person’s glory; 2. he knows this not-willing; 3. he wills this not-willing. In this way it is clear that God’s will does not originate in a passive attitude.138 When we apply this to Judas, first, we see that God has no will with respect to Judas’ glory, nor does he will that Judas is not glorified. In other words: God refrains from willing Judas’ actual glorifica­ti­on, neither does he will positively his damnati­on. Such a basic negative act of God is indispensable for the possibility of a negative act of Judas’ will. Without such an ontological structure a nolition of Judas with respect to God is impossible. Judas’ final nolition is the ground of his rejection. 137

138

Ordinatio I 47.9: ‘Offert enim voluntati suae hunc peccaturum vel peccare, et primo vo­luntas eius circa hunc non habet velle […]. Secundo, potest intelligere voluntatem suam non volentem hoc, et tunc potest velle voluntatem suam non velle hoc.’ See Ordinatio I 47.9.

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In this light Marilyn McCord Adams’s verdict founders: Reprobation is the rock on which the ship of Scotus’ theodicy would founder.139 McCord Adams overlooks the new theories of will and permission underlying Duns’ theory of rejection and puts unwittingly Scotus’ and Calvin’s approaches into parallelism. She overlooks the different drives of the necessity and the contingency models. What she calls ‘the surd of reprobation,’ is not as such related to a theory of rejection, but to the fact that traditional Latin Christianity, following Augustine, accepted the view of eternal punishment, when a reprobate has once died in final sin. This traditional doctrine rests on a certain view of dying and death: after death God’s mercy stops, but this view cannot be true, because being merciful, readiness to forgive and goodness are essential to God and his agency. The traditional stance with regard to death can easily be disconnected from Duns’ theory of rejection. At any rate, the view on dying cannot be derived from the doctrine of predestination. We have to consider both theories on their own terms and if we repair the doctrine of death, the complaints of McCord Adams melt away as snow by the sun. What is essential to God, does not stop at a certain moment of our personal history. According to Scotus’ new approach to predestination, God reflects on the negation of his act of will by willing it. God does not will Judas to sin; God just permits Judas to sin – in the new Scotian sense of permitting – and wills this permissi­on. In the case of rejection there is the absence and absten­tion from willing, which in turn is willed. In Duns’ analysis of rejection, as developed in Lectura I 41and, more extensively, in Ordinatio I 41 and I 47, he starts with a repro­ba­tus who is implied to be someone who wills actually to be rejected by God. It is impossible that God rejects someone who does not will to reject God and who does not will to be rejected by God. The basis of an actual reprobatio presupposes that the person in question actually persists in sinning and this entails that this person continues in wrong-doing by his free will. So, Duns explains the contin­gent fact of a reproba­tus and what is presupposed by it – a fact which is known by God. He subsequently shows, in his struc­tural analysis of God’s willing, in which way the ethical integri­ty of God’s willing is maintained­. The analysis shows that at no structural moment God wills any-

139

McCord Adams, ‘Duns Scotus on the goodness of God,’ Faith and Philosophy 4 (1987) 501 (486-505).

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thing wrong: in the order of his decision he is just in what he wills and in why he wills it. On God’s part, acceptance and rejection are no arbitrary whims of his mood, nor do they belong to the essentials of reality. God cannot have whims and does not cherish moods. However, a is an elect or a is a reprobate is a necessary proposition, just as God wills that p or God does not will that p is necessarily true. The point of departure of the doctrine of election is the first disjunct and the point of departure of the doctrine of rejection the second one. Theology is not an arbitrary affair, for her argumentations start from necessary possibili­ties and her analyses from necessary premisses. Theology is the consistent alternative to impossible religious and philosophical positions. The theory of rejection embodies a specific divine No(!) to a fundamental existential stance over and against God incarnate which can only be criticized by God, since it contradicts what he is and what he does. This possibility is a necessary one, for if not, it would be impossible that anyone’s belief would be unbelief. The only possibility would be necessary faith and necessary election. Since any kind of necessitarianism is impossible, pistic necessitarianism is impossi­ble too. Some scholars do not see much difference between the Scotian viewpoint and Calvin’s, although the Franciscans, including Duns Scotus, are also considered to be (semi-)Pelagians. It is also asked why, according to Duns, God already refrains from a positive act of will with regard to Judas at the first structural moment. Then, there is no peccare finaliter; so, how and why can he do so? Not only the view that ascribes (semi-)Pelagianism to Scotus is unfounded, but the other complaints are also wrong on several counts. There yawns an abyss between Calvin’s predestinarian necessitarianism and Duns Scotus’ contingency thought.140 According to Calvin’s way of thinking, both election and reprobation are necessary, for if there is no actual volition, the involved act of willing is impossible. If reality is contingent, the impact of p or not-p is quite different. Duns Scotus explicitly denies that God wills that Judas is condemned at the first structural moment. Judas’ condemnation does not matter a priori. Mind also that although contingency thought creates room for historical thinking, history is not a real theme in Duns Scotus’ thought: it could only become so after the historical revolution in the second quarter of the nineteenth century. 140

See KN §§ 3.1-3.2 and Vos, ‘The Systematic Place of Reformed Scholasticism: Reflections Concerning the Reception of Calvin’s Thought,’ in Andreas J. Beck and William den Boer (eds.), The Reception of John Calvin and His Theology in Reformed Orthodoxy in Wim Janse and Jan Wim Buisman (eds.), Church History and Religious Culture 91.1-2 (2011), 29-41.

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Predestinarian analysis is eschatological analysis. It is thinking from the end, not from history. Its crucial theme is the final stance of man before God (coram Deo), not the historical place coram Deo. In the end, Judas wills to rebel against God – he is not the only one – and God rejects this sin, God does no beat or slamb or revenge Judas. He just rejects this sin and that is what sins deserve. Definite sin excludes Judas from eternal life, but it does not exclude from life, neither from all the fine blessings of life, nor from the history of salvation. Although Duns does not discuss such topics, this approach does not imply that God does not will that Judas shares in the history of salvation. God has the deontic will that everyone believes and discovers the faith. In many cases condemnation just presupposes revelation and salvation, faith and the life of grace. Just this reality is rejected and despised.141 It does not make sense to reject someone, if there is nothing to be rejected by that person. Finally, a structural moments approach is not a disguised causality approach. Necessity thought does not acknowledge structures, nor structural moments, as we also see in Thomism. Harm Goris pointed out that Thomism has no place for an approach in terms of structural moment. Their simplicity structure blocks this.142 Structures and structural moments can only be a theme in contingency thought, but then we have to be aware that structures are not causal factors, although they enjoy an eminent role, since they structure reality by representing ontological and analytical aspects. When we realize this, we may focus on the gulf between the Middle Ages and nineteenth-century Christian thought which started from God’s absolute causality so that also all aspects of predestination had to be seen in terms of necessity and causality. There, contingency and freedom have left the scene of election and rejection. 7.9

Final Considerations

In the religion of the pre-Islamic Arabs we find a strong belief that human life is determined by time, as is also found in ancient Egypt and in Ecclesiastes. This time thinking is not a kind of fatalism, but simply the old-Semitic assumption that reality necessarily is as it is. Time is not a god to be worshi­pped, but it 141

142

In classic terminology, grace cannot be rejected, for ‘grace’ is an achievement term, like ‘arriving at:’ you cannot miss Oxford, when you have arrived at Oxford. The logic of the Latin ‘gratia’ differs from the Germanic logic of ‘genade’ and ‘Gnade.’ See Harm Goris, ‘Thomism in Zanchi’s Doctrine of God,’ in Van Asselt and Dekker (eds.), Reformation and Scholasticism, 121-39.

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indicates the invariable nature of reality: how things are. In the Germanic world it is still said: it was his time, when a person has died. We find here the archaic readiness to accept whatever happens and, in comparable strata of culture, people have still the experience that a personal appeal on what they might will is unsettling, inviting them to become a nervous wreck. As in certain strata of the Old Testament, in the Qur’an we also discern that the only God takes over the function of time and obeys to the ius talionis. It is useless to try to avoid what has been predetermined. Ecclesias­tes III says it in his own monotonous way: Everything has its time and every activity under heaven has its time: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time for silence and a time for speech, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. There is not only the logic of time, but also the eloquence of light and dark, of day and night.143 The tree of the knowledge of good and evil is not a wondrous moral tree, but the tree of knowing everything, blessed, or doomed, by God’s omniscience. In Semitic idom, the language of opposition expresses universality. A long list of opposites indicates a monotonous repetition that everything has its own time and the Speaker, or the author, is impressed by the vanity of everything. It is inescapable, ‘for in much wisdom is much vexation, and the more a man knows, the more he has to suffer.’ There is a specific monotheistic twist to all this. It is not only the case that everything has its time, but God has made everything to suit its time. He has given men a sense of time, past and future, but there is no insight in what God is doing from beginning to end. God is the guarantee of the structure of reality. It is not possible to explain the whole of the teaching of the Qur’an from the pre-Islamic layers of Arabic religion, just as the Wisdom literature of the Old Testament cannot be embedded in the preaching of the prophets and the prophetic preaching cannot be derived from the wisdom literature. The religious position of the Umayyad dynasty (661-750) gave rise to the Qadari opposition which assumed human free will in some form. Earlier scholarship attributed 143

See Else M. Barth, ‘Enten-eller: de logica van licht en donker,’ Algemeen Nederlands Tijdschrift voor Wijsbegeerte 61 (1970) 217-40, and idem, Evaluaties, Assen 1972.

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this view to Christian influences, but it might also find its roots in internal Islamic differences, but because we do not meet an ontology of true contingency here, there is no space for a tenable theory of predestination. The doctrine of predestination has some black backgrounds. 7.9.1 Comparative Theology In some parts of the world, nobody would look on himself as a Calvinist, but people who consider themselves to be Calvinists and their natural antipodes have asserted that Calvinism ascribes to predestination and rejects the view that there is human freedom in any substantial sense. At the very best there is only one degree of freedom, for God is free, but since Adam’s deplora­ble fall man is deprived of freedom. According to these lines there are the alternative views of Pelagianism and Arminianism – the modern counterpart of Pela­ gianism – which are so naive as to believe that man is free. According to many Protestants and Catholics alike, this conviction is precisely the watershed between ‘Rome’ and the Reformation. Luther and Calvin are invoked as the great witnesses of this position, but even here history is more complicated. Both Duns Scotus and William of Ockham, and John Calvin are thinkers subscribing to a philosophy of will. Just as God is the ontological center in their systems, God is also the center of salvation history and the dynamics of the whole of history. Though, they are thinkers of will in rather different manners. In contrast to Scotus, Ockham and Calvin reject the theory of synchronic contingen­cy. They are opposed to the idea of looking for room for alternatives which are not diachronic alternati­ves. Nevertheless, Ockham and Calvin present positions which are rather different from each other. Ockham still cherishes an idea of profound and radical contingency, characteristic both for how reality turns and for the nature of God’s activity. With Calvin, on the contrary, both the notion of God’s know­ledge and the notion of God’s will entail necessity. The basic structure of Duns Scotus’ system is turned upside down and a model of autonomous divine willing is arrived at along strictly necessitarian lines. Among the Reformers, Calvin (1509-64) was among the determined few who followed Luther’s De servo arbitrio (1525) sincerely and radically. Richard Cross left it to the reader to decide whether or not Scotus’ careful account will allow him to avoid Calvinism here. By the way, he correctly distinguis­hes between the Augustinian account and so-called Calvinism.144 Cross’s formulation of the dilemma to be overco­me is strict:

144

Cross, Duns Scotus, 103. Note that there were only a few Calvi­nists before the nineteenth century – in terms of the definition of Calvi­nism used by Cross.

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The point of this discussion is to avoid the sort of ‘double predestination view’ later defended by Calvin. On this view, God wills both salvation and damnation prior to his knowledge of our actions. This seems to make God arbitrary and cruel.145 In this analysis of rejection Duns starts from a repro­ba­tus, which is, of course, by definition someone who will actually to be rejected by God. In his analysis of rejection Judas’ freedom is present as a presuppo­sition. His freedom is not jeopardized and cannot be jeopardized. Further, God’s intentions are not disputable. When we make these two aspects more explicit, by recurring to other Scotian ideas, we must say: God has the deontic intention to bless Judas (for he has this intention with respect to everyone, see Lectura I 46), but he leaves room for Judas’ willing against God (just as for Peter’s, as for everyone else’s) and persistence in sin. When Judas actually persists in sinning (which Peter actually does not), Judas does this himself, by having and using his own free will. When he actually persists in sinning – which is known by God –, God rightly condemns him. In that case God cannot have a positive will with respect to Judas’ glory at the first structural moment of his willing, for if God were to have such a will, he could not subsequently condemn him without being either contra­dic­tory or mutable in his willing. In the first case God’s will would not be just, in the second it would not be infallible nor unchangeable. However, neither has to be assumed if God knows what Judas will do by his free will. In sum: suppose someone persists in sin­ning, while God knows it (for most church­fathers and medie­vals Judas was an example and model of a repro­batus), then God’s willing, accor­ding to Duns, has the struc­ture he indicates in his analysis of rejecti­on. In some parts of the Christian Church, believers have suffered from the doctrine of predestination. In the scholarly literature on the subject, the term ‘double predestination’ has a sombre ring. There is a vast literature concerning the doctrine of predestination sketching its theoretical contours and spiritual atmosphere in dark colors. Although Scotus does not use the term ‘double predestination’ (Calvin: praedestinatio gemina) – with Scotus, ‘praedestinatio’ usually means: election –, he surely teaches ‘double predestination.’ However, are the views ascribed to Duns Scotus according to the present interpretation not too agreeable? Is the thirteenth-century John Duns not much more a pessimist Augusti­nian? Is the theory brought forward on these pages not too lucid to count as the position of the historical, medieval Duns Scotus? 145

Cross, Duns Scotus, 102, referring to Calvin’s Institutio christi­anae religionis III 22.11.

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However, such questions rest on confusion. The source of the modern confusion is to be located in overlooking the thought form of the main line of medieval theology and philosophy, namely contingency thought. According to this model, divine will entails contingency, whereas Calvin connects will with necessity. All characteristic differences flow from this conceptual structure: for John Duns, the notion of permission is crucial, and he even develops a new theory of permission, but John Calvin has not a doctrine of permission.146 In Duns’ doctrine of rejection, a so-called negative act of will is the first act, but in John Calvin’s doctrine of reprobation it is a positive act: God wills the reprobation and the sin of the reprobate. The remarkable thing is that there is a tight link between the scholarly literature on the subject where the term ‘predestination’ has a sombre ring and Duns Scotus’ new methodology of analyses in depth. Following the footsteps of Arminius and Episcopius, Cameron and Amyraut, the doctrine of predestination is painted as a harsh mystery. Amyraut was critical of the so-called metaphysical speculations of many colleagues. He is well aware that Calvin said much about the impulsive causes of God’s decrees, but, according to Amyraut, he did not say anything about the order of the decrees in terms of structural moments and, he thought, this was marvelous: Amyraut considered the orthodox doctrine of predestination, with all its speculation about the order of God’s decrees, an outright denial of this principle (namely, the principle of faith), and constantly called on Calvin in his desire to correct this orthodox tendency.147 Of course, Calvin did not say anything about such matters, because he was simply not interested in the craft of doing theology and philosophy in a critical and scientific way. One may steer another course, but it is not helpful to leave 146

147

On Duns’ doctrine of permissio, see § 7.4 and Vos et al., Duns Scotus on Divine Love, 178-92. Cf. Vos et al., Johannes Duns Scotus. Teksten over God en werkelijkheid (1995), 77-85. On Calvin on the necessity of God’s will, see KN 234-9, and Vos, ‘The Systematic Place of Reformed Scholasticism: Reflections Concerning the Reception of Calvin’s Thought,’ in Andreas J. Beck and William den Boer (eds.), The Reception of Calvin in Reformed Orthodoxy: Church History and Religious Culture 91.1-2, Leiden 2011, 29-41. Brian G. Armstrong, Calvinism and the Amyraut Heresy. Protestant Scholasticism and Humanism in Seventeenth-Century France, Madison/London 1969, 163 (chapter 4: ‘The doctrine of predestination’ (158-221)). Armstrong uses ‘orthodoxy,’ ‘orthodox Calvinism’ and ‘scholasticism’ more or less synonymously (op. cit., xi). On the structural moments of the ordo praedestinationis, compare § 7.4 and § 7.7, and on structural moments, see DPhil 245-52, cf. 232-44.

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aside the whole Western tradition of conceptual, propositional and argumentational analysis without offering any insight into what was going on. Armstrong does not give any hint of which style of thinking was operating here. Already Amyraut misunderstood the methodology of Beza just as Arminius misunderstood the methodology of Franciscus Gomarus.148 In the second half of the twentieth century many Protestant scholars followed the decline ideology in matters of scholasticism just as much Catholic neoscholasticism collapsed into Neothomism and even forgot to try to understand John Duns and William of Ockham. In this way it is impossible to discover the development of Western philosophy and theology. We can only understand the doctrines of predestination of a Beza and of a Gomarus with the help of the conceptual structures of contingency thought.149 Let it be clear: I do not believe that the classic main tradition of Christian theology has to be defended. This tradition has only to be rediscovered, updated and extrapolated to see that the right path is to be found here. A thinker of the calibre of Duns Scotus is in no need of a defence. The Duns Scotus of the present interpretation is a thankful, radiant, and optimistic believer. Faith, conversion and humility create happiness: we have only to rediscover this historical reality. Moreover, Duns is definitely not an Arminian. Arminius minimalized the role of the divine will;150 in Scotus’ ontology and theology everything dances on the tightened chord of the contingent will of God. Finally, we address some uncharitable questions. God wills the end of salvation for certain people, but he does not will this for all people. On the primary level of God willing what He wills we meet a duality of willing and not-willing: God wills the end of salvation for certain people and He does not will the end of salvation for other people. Why not? What is easier for God Almighty to will a universe, where it is all roses for all people? What is the possible meaning of rejection and why do rejection and damnation make sense? Why does Duns Scotus not embrace simplicity here? The simple reason why the évangelisme of the Church of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries does not embrace such a rosy view is that everyday reality tells us a different story. Not everyone loves 148

149 150

Beza and Gomarus offered a structural moments approach (ordo praedestinationis), just because they adhered to the contingency model. DS (1994), 151-3, showed that the roots of Gomarus’ doctrine of election are to be found in Scotus’ doctrine of election. Cornelis van Sliedregt, Calvijns opvolger Theodorus Beza. Zijn verkiezingsleer en zijn belijdenis van de drieënige God, Leiden 1996, suffers form overlooking the contingency structures. See DS 151-2, cf. 134, 144 and 273. See Antonie Vos, ‘Geboeid door Arminius,’ Soteria 27.4 (2010) 46-52.

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God and his splendid program is not shared by everybody. It is not only not shared by everybody, but many unbelievers are also able to explain quite well why they do not believe. Duns Scotus’ ontology of election and rejection tries to radiograph the historical and eschatological reality. Against the background of an open ontology of possibilities, Duns Scotus sketches the possible actuality of being elected and being rejected.151 Since it is necessary that there is a contingent act of divine will, there is the necessary truth of divine willing with respect to a voluntative object God wills that p or God does not will that p. The doctrines of election and rejection are grounded in this disjunction. In both cases Duns Scotus elaborates complex conceptual structures elucidating the whole of the reality of election and the whole of the reality of reprobation. The striking thing is that he does not start wih defending God by underlining in an anxious spirit that God’s refraining is explained by God’s primary knowledge that such a person will sin. This strategy can explained in several ways. Duns Scotus’ way of thought starts with necessary truths and essential properties. Again and again, he offers a structural investigation of reality focusing on contingent reality, but in order to explain philosophically the nature of our reality and our history we cannot start with contingency. We can only understand what happens contingently in terms of what is necessary and essential. We have to stress that a certain element of an ontological structure cannot be taken in a causal way. Everything contingent depends on God’s will, but the explanatory power of the basic relationship differs substantially in different contexts. Thus, sin has something to do with God’s will. If God’s will is to be structured in a way that sin is excluded necessarily, then there can be no sin. So, the subsequent sin of someone is in some sense explained by God’s refraining from willing the end of salvation, but this primary dimension of willing does not explain in a causal way that a person is rebel­ling against God. The crucial thing is that structures have no causal power, for they are the preconditions of causality. Causality cannot be ascribed to an arbitrary element of the whole structure, neither to the whole of the structure itself. Only contingent causal elements of the structure enjoy causal power and all essential components are at work in causing different causal effects. The simple point of synchronic contingency is that the same ingredients elicit quite different effects. So, the conceptual structures define the conditions, elicited by 151

On the Scotian notion of possibles, see Honnefelder, ‘Possibilien. 1. Mittelalter,’ Historisches Wörterbuch der Philosophie VII 1130-32 (1126-35).

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God’s essential properties and the necessary truths. Then, we have the agents: they act contingently. So, both p and not-p can be the effect, although p may be much more probable than not-p. God’s essential goodness rules the waves. Nevertheless, sinning can be more probable than not-sinning, although it is much more rational not to sin, but to sing – ad maiorem gloriam Dei!

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Sacraments 8.1

Introduction

From the New Testament onwards sacraments played an important role in the spiritual life of the Christians.1 Existential orientation and spiritual life in the Middle Ages were profoundly marked by the sacraments and the sacramentalia­, sacred actions which were slowly to be distinguished from proper sacramenta.2 Great academic theology radiated an enormous intensity. We discover a glow of religious existence, when we move beyond the theoretical borders. As far as Duns is conce­rned, we have also to take into account the inspiration of Saint Francis and those who have followed him with all their heart and all their strength. Here, we meet an open heart for God’s symbolical presence in empirical reality. Duns Scotus links this empirical dimension with a radical anthropology of will,3 and a theology of sacrament and priesthood, church, society and law in which all phenomena are interrelated so that Ordinatio IV is a unique quarry for theological and philosophical ethics and for the philosophy of law. All this is quite different from the vulgar Catholicism the admirable Friedrich Loofs believed to have found there.4 Duns Scotus’ theology and the 1 See Talley, ‘Worship and Cultic Life: Christian Worship,’ ER XV 447-54, cf. Hoffman, ‘Jewish Worship,’ ER XV 445-7 and Cragg, ‘Muslim Worship,’ ER XV 454-63 – contributions which are helpful to discover the distinctive features of Chris­tian spirituality and worship, when we start from the nature of baptism, including the classic catechumenate, in combination with the crucial roles of repentance, penance and the eucharist. We do not have to forget the unique role of the homily (homiletics). Homiletics is as unique as theology itself is a unique academic undertaking. 2 See the fascinating Part I of Marilyn McCord Adams’s fine study: ‘Why sacraments?,’ in Some Later Medieval Theories of the Eucharist. Thomas Aquinas, Giles of Rome, Duns Scotus, and William Ockham, Oxford 2010, 31-79. 3 See Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 31-54, and parallel selections, and in particular also Wolter’s essays ‘Native Freedom of the Will as a Key to the Ethics of Scotus’ (1972), ‘Duns Scotus on the Will as Rational Potency’ (1990) and ‘Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality’ (1986), parallel to Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 3- 29, and Marilyn McCord Adams (ed.), The Philosophical Theology of John Duns Scotus, 148-206. 4 Friedrich Loofs, Leitfaden zum Studium der Dogmenge­schichte (31893), 305. According to Kurt Aland who edited the sixth edition (1959), we are basically still ‘was die Ge­samtdarstellung angeht, immer noch da, wo schon unsere Väter standen’ (Friedrich Loofs. Leitfaden zum Studium der Dogmenge­schichte, vi). See §§ 9.3-9.4.

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main stream of medieval thought it belongs to embody that dimension of medieval Catholic theology which is open to the Reformation. Ordinatio I-II are based on Lectura I-II.5 The Lectura is the Vorlage of the Ordinatio, whereas the relation between Ordinatio III and the so-called Lectura Oxoniensis III is even more tight. However, the situation of Book IV is quite diffe­rent, for Ordinatio IV is based on Reportatio Parisiensis IV. To my mind, Lectura IV did never exist. There is not any trace of a Lectura IV. Duns did not deliver a course on the sacraments in the strict sense of this word at Oxford. This only took place at Paris in the first half of 1303. Although we have a good reportatio of that course in manuscript, yet the only reliable text of Duns Scotus on Sententiae IV in print is Opus Oxoniense IV of the Wad­ ding/Vivès editions – that text is in fact a version of Ordinatio IV. Ordinatio IV 2 quaestio 1.7 refers to Lectura III 19.6 In the last Pa­risian years of Duns’ life, the practical problems of church and society, law and economy mattered more and more to Duns Scotus.7 Now, we have the Vatican edition of the Opera Omnia XI: Ordinatio IV 1-7 (2008), Opera Omnia XII: Ordinatio IV 8-13 (2010), Opera Omnia XIII: Ordinatio IV 14-42 (2011). First, a description of Duns Scotus’ general theory of the sacrament is offered (§ 8.2). Successively, his theology of baptism (§ 8.3), confirmation (§ 8.4), eucharist (§ 8.5), penance (§ 8.6), extreme unction (§ 8.7), sacred orders and priesthood (§ 8.8) and marriage (§ 8.9) are dealt with. A final reflection is found in § 8.10. 8.2

Sacrament

By Duns Scotus’ time, the number of the seven sacraments was already fixed, but for Duns this situation was in a nutshell the whole of the history of the sacraments after Jesus Christ had instituted them in his new testament. However, it is a fact that the number of the seven sacraments had only got fixed in the second half of the twelfth century. Originally the term sacramentum had been used both of rites, prayers and objects in general and of the seven 5 The Prologue of the Lectura delivers 8 out of 9 quaestiones to the Prologue of the Ordinatio, Lectura I 75 out of 87 to Ordinatio I, Lectura II 59 out of 64 to Ordinatio II. For the scheme of Lectura I-II as basis of Ordinatio I-II, see Opera Omnia XIX 35*, and for the table of all quaestiones, see Opera Omnia XIX 55*-73*. 6 This reference in Ordinatio IV 2.32 is usually seen as referring to Ordinatio III 20, but there is no independent Ordinatio III 20 – it is simply Lectura III 20 which has immediately been channeled to Ordinatio III. Ordinatio IV 6.238 refers to Lectura III 23.48 and Ordinatio III 26.132 which directly rests on Lectura III 26. 7 See Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 57-75 and 262-317.

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sacraments instituted by Christ. In theology sacramentum only became a technical term in the twelfth century. Peter Lombard was one of the first theologians to argue systematically and coherently for the number of seven sacraments. The fourth book of Peter Lombard’s Sententiae contains the doctrine of the signs. Some signs are sacraments. A sacrament is a sign of God’s grace,8 but it not only signifies grace, but it also sanctifies. Duns Scotus’ treatment of the sacraments is overwhelmingly theocentric and Christocentric. He places his theology of the sacrament within a glorious perspective: God is the alpha, both in himself the first being amidst all there is and as the principle of origin of everything else.9 This view addresses the centrality of God. Christian theology is as such theocentric. It is the great theme of Sententiae I-II, but he is also the omega, both in himself the ultimate end, and he who brings back his creation by himself to himself­­.10 Duns Scotus regards this work of God as the great theme of Sententiae III-IV. It focuses on the centrality of Chris­t. Christi­an theology is as such Christocentric. Supralapsarian theology integrates both the theocentric and Christocentric character of theology. God is Creator and Redeemer and God the Creator creates reality and he creates signs, and, likewise, God the Redeemer creates reality and he creates signs. Go­d’s creation which is the whole of reality, is essentially related to God’s existence and activity. So, human life and history are essentially related to God’s activity and interest. We are surrounded by signs of God’s activity.11 The new reality of Jesus Christ is an open window to

8

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10 11

Peter Lombard, Sententiae IV 1 cap. 4.2: ‘Sacramentum enim proprie dicitur quod ita signum est gratiae Dei et invisibilis gratiae formae.’ See De Ghellinck, ‘Un chapitre dans l’histoire de la définition des sacraments au xiie siècle,’ in Mélanges Mandonnet II 79-96. Prologus of Ordinatio IV § 2: ‘Magister in hoc opere suo finali determinat, ut sicut ex I libro et II claruit, Deum esse alpha, tam in se ens omnino primum quam omnium aliorum originale principium, sic ex III et IV appareat ipsum esse et omega tam in se finem ultimum quam creaturae suae in se ipsum per se ipsum finaliter reductivum.’ Preface of Ordinatio IV § 2 – see note 9. On sacramental causality, see Marilyn McCord Adams, ‘Essential Orders and Sacramental Causality,’ in Mary Beth Ingham and Oleg Bychkov (eds.), John Duns Scotus. Philosopher. Proceedings of ‘The Quadruple Congress’ on John Duns Scotus I, Munster 2010, 175-90.

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new happiness. What matters here is final and ultimate happi­ness.12 The sacrament is ‘realized eschatology.’ The best possible arrangement fits God incarnate who is the best possible person in human existence: I answer: Here the first thesis has to be explained: it was appropriate that the law of the Gospel was decorated with the most perfect sacraments. Proof: first, for this is the most perfect law which the Trinity arranged to give to the human person in this state of life.13 The radiance of this perfection has to be translated both intensively and extensively into salvation signs, for grace and the true reality have come through Jesus Christ:14 The sacraments are such signs. They signify most appropriately the grace God confers through them.15 Eventually, the number of the sacraments was fixed on the number seven: baptism, eucharist, confirmation, penance, marriage, extreme unction and ordination.16 These seven sacraments cover the whole of life and the whole of the needs of life from the beginning to the end. They correspond with seven essentials of life: birth, nutrition, education and social responsibility, existential health, procreation, preparation for death, and the creation of social and cultural leaders.17 These sacraments are medicine – the medicine to combat the illness of guilt (Sententiae IV 1-42). Sententiae IV 43-49 deal with the liberation from death. For this rea­son, the Magister Sententiarum aptly uses the parable of the good and 12 13

14 15 16 17

See Ordinatio IV 2.11. Ordinatio IV 2.10-11: ‘Respondeo. Hic prima conclusion declaranda est est, quod Legem Evangelicam fuit congruum sacramentis perfectissimis adornari. Probatio: Primo sic, quia haec est Lex perfectissima, quam Trinitas disposuit dare homini pro statu viae.’ The Gospel of John 1:17. See Ordinatio IV 2.14. Cross, Duns Scotus, 135. See Geyer, ‘Die Siebenzahl der Sakramente in ihrer historischen Entwicklung,’ Theologie und Glaube 10 (1918) 325-48. See Ordinatio IV 2.17: ‘Haec autem sunt [...] baptismus pertinens ad generationem spiritualem, eucharistia necessaria ad nutritionem, confirmatio ad roborationem, paenitentia ad lapsi reparationem, extrema unctio ad finalem exeuntium praeparationem, matrimonium ad multiplicationem in esse naturae vel carnali, et Ordo ad multiplicationem in esse gratiae vel spirituali.’

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merciful Samaritan as the motto of Sententiae IV. The merciful Samaritan offers efficient medicine in order to take back finally (finaliter) the wounded man to Jerusalem. Duns writes:18 That most loyal Samaritan who saw that a human person who descended from Jerusalem to Jericho, fell into the hands of cruel thieves and was terribly wounded. He was compassionate with mercy and affection, brought efficient medicine by which he healed his wounds and gave back his full health so that he could return to his beginning although he deviated from it when he descended from Jerusalem.19 Sententiae IV 1-42 discuss the sacraments as medicine to heal us from the illness of sin and­ guil­t. Sententiae IV 43-49 deal with the liberation from death and punish­ment. For this reason, the­ Magister Sententiarum utilizes the parable of the good Samaritan as the motto of Sententiae IV. The Good Samaritan gives efficient medicine in order to heal the wounded victim and to bring him finally to Jerusalem! Scotus’ definition of sacrament (sacramentum) leads us back to Augustine and Isidore of Sevilla, Hugh of Saint Victor and Peter Lombard. His definition runs as follows: A sensible sign which effectively signifies the grace of God or the gratuitous effect of what God does by divine institution. It has been ordained for the salvation of the human person on his way to God (viator).20 It is theologically clear that this reality is possible in virtue of divine goodness, power and policy. God creates an invisible effect on behalf of the salvation of 18 19

20

Ordinatio IV Prologus § 2: ‘Hanc autem reductionem finalem praecedit curatio semiplena et plena curatio concomitatur.’ Ordinatio IV Prologus § 1: ‘Samaritanus ille piissimus, spoliatum videns hominem ab Hierusalem in Iericho descendentem in latrones impios incidisse et atrociter sauciatum, miserationis affectu compatiens, medicinam attulit efficacem qua – curatis ipsius vulneribus ac plena reddita sanitate – in sui principium a quo descendens ab Hierusalem deviaverat, finaliter reducatur.’ Ordinatio IV 1.194 offers the definitio sacramenti: ‘Signum sensibile gratiam Dei vel eius effectum gratuitum, ex institutione divina, efficaciter significans, effectum – inquam – ordinatum ad salutem viatoris hominis.’ § 8.10 shows that this also presents the correct definitory concept of what is a sacrament. Antonius Hiquaeus adds twelve pages of commentary in the Vivès-edition in order to deepen this definition in terms of the history from Augustine to Suarez!

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those who believe and invest their life in this faith by making the journey of faith. According to Duns Scotus, here we do not no need any pro’s and cons and we rarely see that such a statement flows from the pencil of the master of argument. He argues almost always, but here his argumentation stops. It is also possible that God gives a sign (imponere) or institutes a sign in order to signify the invisible effect and we are able to receive such a sign as something with which we are familiar ourselves, because we can also impose signs. It is also possible that God decides himself to do so by regulating it in a way so that the sign he institutes concurs with the effect it signifies. We can compare this with signs like shaking hands and raising fingers or holding up a thumb. Sensible possibilities and sense perception also serve a spiritual end. Thus, a sacra­ment is an institutional sign (signum ex institutione). This sacramental reality is indicated by the proposed definition. Duns stresses the following elements: the empirical nature, its social character, its effectivity and the impact of grace. The notion of being visible as it occurs in the definition of Peter Lombard is explained by Duns in the sense of to be experienced in a sensible way (sensibilis). Peter Lombard opts for visible because of the epistemic quality of our eyesight. A sacrament is a relation, since it is a sign, which is social, on the one hand, and represents the effect of grace, on the other hand. A sacrament is something that has to be instituted. It can only be instituted by God in an immediate way and it is contin­gent, since it is an act of God in reality (opus ad extra). A sacrament is no necessary phenomenon: It is a matter of harmony and utility and typically infralapsa­rian,21 for the sacrament is a medicine. So, it has to be concluded that we need no sacraments in heaven (in patria), and there were neither in the state of innocence (pro statu innocen­tiae). Duns is also aware that this viewpoint shall elicit difficulties in the case of the sacrament of marriage. If what a sacrament is, is identified as a cause of grace or as the end of sin, then we have to distinguish between sacramentum in a proper sense (proprie) and in a wider sense.22 Sacraments in the broad sense of the word are applicable both at the law of Moses and at the new law of the Gospel (lex evangelii). Sacra signa in a very wide sense, as kneeling or bending knees (genuflexiones) and prostrations (prostrationes ad terram), have always been there.23 In a proper sense, a sacrament is especially a medicine against original sin. The

21 22 23

See Ordinatio IV 1.223: ‘Pro tempore cuiuscumque status viae post lapsum.’ See Ordinatio IV 1.251-257. See Ordinatio IV 1.253.

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same concept of sacrament is applicable at old and new sacraments – the sacraments of the Old Testament and the New Testament. We have also to pay attention to theoretical structures in the doctrine of the sacrament. The goal or aim (finis) and what serves the goal (ea quae sunt ad finem) have to be related to each other.24 The indispensability and the nature of the sacraments have to be explained in terms of their goal or aim. According to the common doctrine of the theologians, the finality of the sacrament consists in the grace of an invisible effect of God by which he tunes a human to salvation.25 This aim can be simply reached by without the sacrament itself having a supernatural disposition. If the sacrament does not strengthen by its own intrinsic form or dispositi­on by which the sacramental effect as such is effected, how can it work at all? We receive a natural answer: Only by the assistance of God who causes that effect – not in an absolutely necessary way, but by a necessity which is related to the possibilities of God arranging his salvation (potentia ordinata), for God has decided to do so in a general sense and he has made sure the church of the fact that he shall give the signified effect to those who receive the sacrament.26 The distinction between potentia absoluta and potentia ordinata precisely lies in the difference between necessary and universal. God himself acts freely, contingently and in a reliable way. The intuition of Christian faith sees God as a free God who works as well as possible in ways which are not necessary. However, the history of critical theology shows different kinds of theories which render account of the way God works. Thomas Aquinas thinks within the framework of the act-potentiality model which explains causality in terms of the strict implication. If there is necessary causality, the dynamics flow into the effects. This model is also at work in Thomas Aquinas’ theology of the sacraments. Sacramental causality is anchored in God’s causality and divine causality is efficient causality. Therefore, the sacraments do not only convey grace because 24 25 26

See § 3.4 and chapter 7. Ordinatio IV 1.309: ‘Secundum omnes loquentes de sacramentis finis sacramenti est gratia vel aliquis effectus Dei invisibilis, disponens hominem ad salutem.’ Ordinatio IV 1.315.

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God acts through the sacraments, but as far as the sacraments are instrumental causes of grace they can act themselves as members of the causal chain. Thomas Aquinas’ theory requires a virtus supranaturalis. If the model of necessary causality is adhered to, the caused effect can cause itself. The efficient causality of God integrates as such his formal and final causality. ‘When God acts he is simultaneously giving finality and form, as well as existence, to what he is doing.’27 Sacraments are signs of a sacred reality which sanctifies humans, for the sacraments are not only signs of grace, but they also convey grace. On this view, God uses the sacraments in the process of imparting grace. The sacraments have some sort of causal role; they are instrumental causes of grace.28 However, Duns Scotus’ contingency approach reconstructs the line of Bona­ ventu­re which dates back to Augustine. It is impossible that God shares his way of doing things with anyone just as it is impossible that he delegates his being God to anyone else. There cannot be any independent divine causality imparted to some creature and so there is no independent causality in the sacraments either. There is no necessary sacramental causality possible. It would be contradictory that a material object has a supernatural causal power. So, not even God could give such an object a supernatural power.29 This field of forces requires some comments. The conclusion that God cannot delegate such causal power to a creature, has nothing to do with any limitation of what God can do. If something is impossible, we cannot do so and even God cannot do so, but the reason is simply that something that is impossible cannot be done at all. A necessary truth is a boundary to what anyone can do. Neither is it helpful to bestow ornamental predicates to what is expressed by necessary truths and necessary false­hoods. They express the play of reality. It does not help, if we call Duns’ sacramental theory formation occasionalist, just as the term voluntarist is not helpful either. There are conditioning patterns in

27

28 29

Walsh, ‘Sacrament,’ in Van Nieuwenhove and Wawrykow (eds.), The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, 330. Walsh’s chapter Sacraments (326-64) is a fine, but broad contribution so that most of what is expounded is generally true of most medieval theologians. Cross, Duns Scotus, 136. Cross, Duns Scotus, 137.

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what God does and can do in what we can do, including the roles of willing and acting. Thus, in fact it is misleading to say that even God cannot do so and so, if something impossible is involved just as it is misleading to say that a sacrament is only an occasion of what God is giving in his sacrament. What matters is simply the way he works and the unique way God works follows freely from the absolutely unique identity of God himself. The sacrament we receive is his own precious gift. What he gives is given on the occasion of the sign which is performed in his name, but it is not only on the occasion of ... . When I hold up my thumb to congratulate my daughter when she has scored, I do not do so by only holding up my thumb, but by just holding up my thumb. The specifics of Duns Scotus’ theory formation are not interesting, because they contact us with fascinating options of an original thinker, but they are so interesting, because they lay bare necessary structures to be made explicit in necessary propositi­ons, including the necessary truth that no natural agent can have divine causal power. Again and again, Duns Scotus does not reject alternatives, because he is a Scotist – he was not –, but since they are inconsistent. This field of forces is not to be interpreted in terms of the later nature/super nature model of doing philosophy, as if Duns Scotus is reconstructing theology on philosophical foundations. Thus, it would be misleading to state that Scotus’ position relies on purely philosophical grounds. In different centuries and periods the relations­hip between philosophy and theology is a vexed one, because the notions of doing philosophy and doing theology develop themselves. We cannot unlink the relevant connections here, but what we see is a massive ongoing systematic reflection on the contents of the Christian faith and that this reflection, analysis and theory formation lead to a universe of thinking densely populated with necessary truths. This improba­ble success creates at the same time a unique road to philosophy, but that is quite different from a theological program which tries to base itself on philosophical premises. On the other hand, we need the underlying model to interpret safely our terms. Our terms are not a priori correct, but they are neither a priori wrong. We could say with Richard Cross with regard to the eucharist: The priest’s celebration of the mass is an occasion for the conversion of the bread and wine into Christ’s body and blood. But this conversion is not caused by the priest’s words and actions in the mass. The priest’s words and actions are a non-causal necessitating condition of a divine

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action. And all of this is the result of ‘the ordering of God making a covenant with the Church.’30 However, why does the Magister Sententiarum also discuss the rite of circumcision in this first distinction? A fundamental motive is involved here and this theme bridges the distance between the stuff of the first and second distinctions (the baptism of John the Baptist and the sacraments of the new law). The second distinction leads to the large part of the distinctions dealing with baptism (Ordinatio IV 3-6). The motive is that the sancti tell us that the circumcision battles against original sin: They (namely who keep the law of Moses) cannot arrive at salvation without blotting out original sin.31 It is also true of circumcision that original sin can only be wiped out in virtue of a gift of grace.32 However, this does not obtain for the rites of the so-called ceremonial laws which can only be called sacraments in an improper way, as, for instance, they are to be found in Leviticus 5 and 14.33 By then it was God’s will to be worshiped in these ways (cultus latriae pro tempore) and thus theology called these sacred signs caeremoni­ae (hence, ceremonial laws).34 Scotus’ way to distinguish the sacraments of the Old Testament from the sacraments of the New Testament differs from Aquinas’: Accor­ding to Aquinas, the sacraments have instrumentally causal powers; the Old Testa­ment ceremonies are just occasions for divine grace. This way of distinguishing the sacraments from the Old Testament ceremonies is not open to Scotus’ occasionalist account of sacramental causality.35

30 31 32 33

34 35

Cross, Duns Scotus, 137. Ordinatio IV 1.345. Duns Scotus refers back to Ordinatio II 29.24 where the essence of original righteousness is dealt with. See also Ordinatio IV 15 and 16. See Ordinatio IV 1.370-371. Ordinatio IV 1.372-373: ‘Sacramentum enim [...] potest accipi improprie et proprie. Et quidem in illa Lege fuerunt multa, dicta improprie sacramenta, puta purgationes ab immunditiis contractis secundum Legem, ut patet in Levitico de purgatione a tactu morticini per aquam expiationis, et de purgatione a lepra et aliis huiusmodi.’ For these issues in traditional theological ethics, see G. Rothuizen, Triplex usus legis. Cross, Duns Scotus, 138.

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There is no such strictly causal causality reigning over the sacraments. So, this way out is not open to distinguishing kinds of sacraments. All grace is related to the reality of Jesus Christ and, therefore, in our distinct way of life all grace is related to Christ­’s life and passion. The Old Testament ceremonies are also grounded in what he has done, but they are still not completely effective. There was a substantial gift of grace under the Old Testament and Duns Scotus does not conclude that there was no gift of grace under the Old Testament. ‘This seems to be too hard.’36 These commandments also served God’s salvation and they who kept these commandments out of love and obedience, received grace and grew in grace. The proper effect is both in the case of circumcision and in the case of bap­tism that the soul is cleansed from sin, although another effect accompanies it, namely to be directed to or to be adopted in life eternal.37 Duns Scotus does not conclude that under the Old Testament such signs were not accompanied by grace. Grace is given in what is done out of love, and to deny this seems to be too harsh.38 Having discussed Scotus’ theology of grace, Richard Cross concluded: It is difficult not to be struck by the contingency of all this. God’s freedom from any external constraint – his being wholly unconditioned – is the basic presupposition behind Scotus’s account.39 However, again and again, it is also difficult not to be struck by the lucid light that shines forth in the whole of God’s contingent agency. His freedom is as such embedded in his consistent goodness and mercy and his best possible activity is as such his most reasonable activity. His gracious work elicits love and obedience and God answers this love and obedience by his benevolen­ce and grace. Contingent reality opens the road of real why?-questions and if true why?-questions can be asked, then the road to reasonable answers is opened up. Otherwise, we would only ask for the sake of asking: why? Answer: therefore! It cannot be otherwise. It is the ancient way of necessitarian epistemology,

36 37 38 39

Ordinatio IV 1.375. Ordinatio IV 1.384: ‘acceptatio ad vitam aeternam.’ Ordinatio IV 1.375: ‘Hoc enim videtur nimis durum : quis enim negaret observantem divinum praeceptum ex caritate et obedientia, in observando non mereri?’ Cross, Duns Scotus, 111.

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but the consciousness of contingency requires new ways of ideas. It is a necessary condition for reasonable­ness. The theology of the sacrament shows a sense of life which is the source of a new way of life and a new way of thinking. Duns Scotus’ theology of the sacrament is specifically a theology of grace. There is the abundant grace of God, one grace to be bestowed on those who walk with him. There is one grace in the soul and many concrete effects of grace: A sacrament signifies more properly that effect in a soul on which grace follows on the sacrament than that it signifies grace itself. [...] The proper effect is both in the case of circumcision and in the case of bap­tism that the soul is cleansed from sin, although another effect accompanies it, namely to be directed to or to be adopted in life eternal.40 However, what is the situation before Abraham for the age of the law of nature (pro tempore legis naturae)? By then, there was also the need of the children and their parents that God had instituted a medicine or ‘a certain and efficient sign’ in order to cleanse away their original sin, although it is difficult to indicate for the time between Adam and Abraham how God managed this in thoses times of idolatria (compare Genesis 4, 8 and 14).41 The essentials of the old and the new sacraments have a tangent plane in circumcision. The sacraments of the new law are an initiative of God Triune. The most perfect ground of the grace of these sacraments is the whole of the life and the suffering of Jesus Christ.42 The seven new sacraments have been instituted by Christ himself: baptism (John 3 and Matthew 28); eucharist (Matthew 26); confirmation (confirmatio) (John 20 and Pentecost – Acts 2); confession – poenitentia (James 5, John 20 and Matthew 16); the extreme unction­ (James 5 and Mark 6), marriage (Matthew 19) and the ordination (Matthew 26 and John 21).43

40

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Ordinatio IV 1.384: ‘Sacrame­ntum magis proprie significat illum effectum in anima ad quem consequitur gratia in sacramento, quam significet ipsam gratiam. [...] Effectus tamen gratiae, tam in circumcisione quam in baptismo proprius est ablutio animae a peccato, licet concomitetur alius, scilicet ordination seu acceptatio ad vitam aeternam.’ See Ordinatio IV 1.389-392. See Ordinatio IV 2.4-12. See Ordinatio IV 2.18-26. Cf. Geyer, ‘Die Siebenzahl der Sakramente in ihrer historischen Entwicklung,’ Theologie und Glaube 10 (1918) 325-48.

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347

Baptism

Baptism has a bridging function. On the one hand, baptism is partially identical with circumcision and, on the other hand, it is related to the baptism of John the Baptist. The impact of circumcision is quite different, because the significance for salvation of Christian baptism (aperitio ianuae) is anchored in the kingdom as a dawning reality and in the grand grace which has been actualized through the passion of Christ.44 There was already an Old Testament effect of Christ’s passion, but this effect is much more powerful, if it obtains in effectu. Circumcision temporarily concurs with baptism in the history of the church, and there was still the baptism of John the Baptist. The baptism of Joh the Baptist had been preparatory (dispositio praeparativa) just as John the Baptist had been the perpetual preparer for the coming of Christ.45 The baptism of John could be interpre­ted in terms of the forma baptismi Christi so that, strictly speaking, there would not have been a baptism of John the Baptist just as there was never a baptism of Peter or Paul. However, strictly speaking, the baptism of John the Baptist was not the baptism of Christ – this baptism was instituted by Christ himself in order to baptize in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Augustine also saw all this in this light and he defended that the John the Baptist Christians were to be rebaptized. Duns Scotus also explains Peter Lombard in terms of a defense of rebaptism.46 Thus, circumcision not only concurs temporarily with Christian baptism, but the baptism of John the Baptist also concurs temporarily with the baptism of the church. Thomas Aquinas distinguished between two baptism periods or dispensations: a period of recommendation before the death of Christ and a command period after the death of Christ. He also distinguished between three circumcision periods: circumcision was commanded until the death of Christ, but was abolished through his death, and allowed without any utility until Pentecost, and harmful after Pentecost.47 However, according to Duns Scotus, circumcision had sacramental power until its official revocation and the death of Christ cannot intrinsically be seen 44 45

46 47

See Ordinatio IV 2.36. On aperitio ianuae, see Ordinatio IV 1.382-384 and IV 2.33-37. See Peter Lombard, Sententiae IV 2 chapters 4 and 5, Kürzinger, ‘Zur Deutung der Johannestaufe in der mittelalterlichen Theologie,’ Aus der Geisteswelt des Mittelalters (BGPTMA) Supplementband III 2, 954-73. Cf. Wink, ‘John the Baptist,’ ER VIII 112-14. See Ordinatio IV 2.43-56. See Summa Theologiae II A 103.3 and III 66.2.

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as a revocation of circumcision. According to Acts 21, converted Jews still kept the law after the Fourth Synod of Jerusalem.48 Here, Duns Scotus combines information from Acts and the Historia Scholastica of Peter Comestor, the Magister historiarum.49 Paul also kept the law before his arrest and this arrest took place during the beginning of the reign of Nero, because he arrived at Rome according to the Magister historiarum in the third year of Nero’s reign, but Nero started to reign about the twentiest year after the passion and death of Christ. In that period the Gospel had already spread considerably, and mostly in Judea where Paul still kept the commandments of the Law.50 Duns Scotus distinguishes two periods of baptism and the caesura of the public validity of the commandment to baptize was Pentecost:51 due to the work of Christ baptism was recommended (sub consilio) until the Ascension of Christ and Pentecost. Pentecost promoted the recommendation into a commandment, but the situation of circumcision is still more complicated. Duns Scotus distinguishes four periods: 1. the period of the indispensability – before both baptism periods, 2. the period of utility – during the first baptism period before Pentecost, 3. the period of permission – during the twenty first years of the history of the church,

48

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According to tradition, the first Synod of Jerusalem is the Synod of the election of Matthias (Acts 1), the second Synod the Synod of the election of the seven deacons (Acts 6), the third Synod the Synod of the mission of Peter and John (Acts 8) and the Fourth Synod the so-called Apostle Convent or the Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15): ‘de cessatione legalium.’ The Magister Historiarum is Peter Comestor (the ‘book glutton’). This voracious reader was Chancellor of the Notre Dame in Parijs (1164-70) and author of the favorite handbook of sacred history: Historia Scholastica. See Gilson, L’esprit de la philosophie médiévale, and especially Smalley, ‘Peter Comestor on the Gospels,’ Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 46 (1979) 84-129, cf. idem, Studies in Medieval Thoug­ht and Learning, 305 and 328-31. See Ordinatio IV 3.166. The years of reign of Nero were 54-68, whereas, of course, one assumed 33 as the year of Christ’s passion and resurrection. According to Jewett (Jewett, ‘Paul the Apostle,’ ER XI 220), Paul left Palestine for Rome in the spring of 60 and he died in Rome in 62. See Ordinatio IV 3.169.

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4. the period when it was harmful and illicit – after the stabilization of the church.52 More precisely speaking, Duns Scotus places the change in the assessment of circumci­sion about fourteen years after the passion of Christ, namely when Paul went to Jerusalem to the Elders in order to consult them about that issue [...] and James gave as bishop his verdict – according to the Magister historiarum: ‘I judge not to alarm them who turn to God among the Gentiles.’53 According to Duns Scotus, the Elders decided at the Third Council of Jerusalem, in the fourteenth or fifteenth year after Christ’s passion that it was not allowed to impose the law upon the converts from the Gentiles, but with respect to the converted Jews, the second period of baptism did not exclude circumcision as illicit, nor other prescriptions of the law, neither from the beginning, nor after the Third Council of the Apostles, but they were still kept much later, because it was permissible.54 In spite of all this, the revocation of the commandment of circumcision took place at the Council of the Apostles on the authority of Peter, James and the Holy Spirit!55 Duns Scotus’ treatment of the relation between circumcision and baptism is fascinating, because we see how Duns handles historical questions, although there was no historical method, and how his contingency thought creates room for historical complications.56 Thomas Aquinas framed a strict model, 52 53 54

55 56

See Ordinatio IV 3.171-172: the first and second circumcision periods, and IV 3, 173-174: the third and fourth periods. Ordinatio IV 3.174. See also Acts 15:19-21. Ordinatio IV 3.176: ‘Quantum ad Iudaeos conversos, secundum tempus baptismi – nec a principio sui nec post Concilium illud tertium Apostolorum – exclusit omnino circumcisionem tanquam illicitam, nec alia legalia, sed multo post tempore licite servabantur.’ Duns elaborately discusses the conflict between Paul and Peter in Ordinatio IV 3.177-198. He is clearly intrigued by the expositions of Peter Comestor. See Ordinatio IV 3.205. It would still take more than five centuries to develop the strict method of critical historiography, but there is an intrinsic link between contingency thought and historical consciousness.

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but Duns paid attention to the evidence and was aware that the facts offered a much more complicated picture. In several cases Duns concedes that he does not know how things happened. The historical method can be made operational in virtue of a contingency analysis of reality, but we have also to be sober. Duns’ smart chronological observations may have a historical ring for us, but, in fact, they are not historical: they are based on systematic analysis, indigenous in scholastic though­t, and sorting out inconsistencies. They do not arise from a historical consciousness, but they consistently apply systema­tic analysis at the biblical information. The marvelous phenomenon we see with Duns is that he is aware that the theory collides with biblical information and with what he found with Peter Comestor. Along these lines, he criticizes Thomas Aquinas’ approach, but he also realizes that he is unable to offer a solution himself. Eventually, he handles such problems in terms of systematic dilemmas. After all these preliminary observations we turn to the baptism of Christ which eventually got a monopoly in the church and we look for a definition of baptism: Baptism is the ablution of a human person who consents in one way or another to that act executed in water by a different person who pronounces at the same time certain words with intention due.57 So far Duns Scotus concentrates on the word and action dimensions of the sacrament, but he also adds, that baptism effectively signifies the cleansing of the soul from sin on the basis of divine institution.58 The external sign indicates and signifies the inner ablution and cleansing of the soul. Such a sacramental sign has its effects which regularly accompany it: The sacraments only have their effectivity in a determinate way by the divine will as their principal cause.59 57

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Ordinatio IV 3.21: ‘Baptismus est sacramentum ablutionis animae a peccato, consistens in ablutione hominis aliqualiter consentientis, facta in aqua ab alio abluente, et in verbis certis simul ab eodem abluente cum debita intentione prolatis.’ Ordinatio IV 3.20: ‘[...] significans efficaciter ex institutione divina ablutionem animae a peccato.’ Ordinatio IV 2.31: ‘Ergo, sola divina virtute habent sacramenta determinate efficaciam tanquam a causa principali.’

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It is only God who determines that the effect to be caused is his proper effect which is appropriate for him: The effects which are signified by the sacraments are only God’s own effects.60 The definition of baptismus also catches the essentials of baptism. Since a sacrament is a relation, the forma sacramenti is the relation of this sign, a relation of materia to what is signified, whereas this matter is the foundation of the relation itself.61 Ordinatio IV 4-6 deal with the necessary conditions for administering the baptism just as Ordinatio IV 3 has already dealt with the baptismal formula by using the Trinitarian formula – for instance, in contrast with the Greek church and with the question whether impure water be also acceptable. However, how is it possible that children have to be baptized, if the person to be baptized must also believe? Can a little child believe?62 Here, the error of Pelagius (error Pelagii) is rejected.63 Baptism has been instituted as medicine against the guilt of original sin and if it is impossible to please God without faith, then what matters in the case of children is the disposition of faith, and not the act of faith. What matters in baptism is grace, since when we believe that the original sin of a child is forgiven, we also believe that it is only forgiven by the gift of grace.64 Circumcision already turned around the gift of grace. Only the relationship with the Son of the Kingdom frees us from perdition and only grace opens the way to freedom. Only grace places us into Christ’s new reality. The bond with him does not run as such through parents, because par60

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See Ordinatio IV 2.31: ‘Solus Deus determinat se ad causandum effectum sibi proprium. [...] Effectus autem significati per sacramenta sunt proprii Deo. Ergo, solus Deus potest se determinare ad causandum effectus sacramentorum, regulariter concomitantes sacramenta. Hoc autem est “sacramenta habere efficaciam,” habere effectus regulariter con­ comi­tantes sacramenta.’ For this kind of understanding the sacrament, consult also Calvin’s Genevan Catechism and the Confessio Belgica. See Ordinatio IV 3.41: ‘Forma sacramenti est ipsa relatio signi qua formaliter est tale sacramentum, et materia est totum illud quod est fundamentum istius relationis.’ See Ordinatio IV 4.12-14. Ordinatio IV 4.15 : ‘Hic fuit error Pelagii, quod parvuli non habent originale peccatum. De hoc et eius improbatione tactum est libro II distinctione 30.’ Compare Lectura II 28 and 33. See Ordinatio IV 4.27: ‘Ut dictum est in quaestione “De circumcisi­one,” Deus – pro statu naturae lapsae – nulli remittit culpam nisi cui dat gratiam. Nullum enim liberat a perditione nisi quem ordinat ad hoc ut sit filius Reg­ni.’ Compare Ordinatio IV 1.335-384.

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ents might be unfaithful or heretics. Baptism requires a meritorious cause (causa meritoria). According to Ordinatio IV 4 quaestio 3.4: In fact, grace is only given to anyone if there is a meritorious cause which deserves its first bond with God and this meritorious cause is Christ. However, it is not necessary that – with the exception of this cause – there is no other intrinsic ground in him who receives it by which he is united with God, before he receives grace.65 The necessity of baptism for salvation is underlined. Although a child can only be baptized at birth when the little head can be baptized, yet it is possible that God gives the gift of justification to an unborn child.66 Is an adult baptized in a valid way, if she or he does not consent? That depends on the situation whether someone be handicapped from childhood, or retarded, or even mad, or in a sleeping state, but the basic rule states that nobody can be added to the family of Christ against her or his own will. This is simply not allowed,67 and it is intrinsically linked with the main rule that an adult goes to be baptized by repentance and penance (poenitentia), sincerely confessing his sins and saying goodbye to a life in sin.68 Then there is still another question to be asked: Why can baptism not be repeated (rebaptizari)? I reply: one cannot be rebaptized, and the reason is: because of the full remissi­on which relates both to guilt and to punishment God instituted unrepeatable baptism in order to create no occasion to sin more often, if baptism were to be repeated more often.69 The forgiveness of daily sins is an open matter. Baptism repels every sin. Everybody who is baptized, is clothed with Christ, but not everybody is clothed 65

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Ordinatio IV 4.39: ‘De facto nulli datur gratia nisi per aliquam causam meritoriam, quae meretur coniunctionem eius primam cum Deo, et haec causa meritoria est Christus; sed praeter istam non oportet dare aliam intrinsecam in recipiente, qua coniungatur Deo antequam recipiat gratiam.’ Compare Ordinatio IV 4.3 with 4. See Ordinatio IV 4.65-67. See Ordinatio IV 4.92-96. Ordinatio IV 4.97: ‘Respondeo: baptizari non potest, quia Deus instituit baptismum ini­ terabilem, ne – propter plenam remissionem quae ibi fit tam culpae quam poenae – daretur occasio saepius delinquendi, si baptismus posset saepius iterari.’

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in the same way.70 However, there cannot be forgiveness of factual guilt without the contriti­on of the heart. Sin is painful for God in Christ and it breaks our heart, if we become aware how it hurts God. So, to sin is an act of will and redemption and forgiveness cannot take place against our own will. However, another question is whether it be necessary that righteous persons are baptized? They have what matters, the reality of the sacrament: res sacramenti; why are they in need of receiving the sacramentum? The fundamental rule is that a rule or law is generally valid, and that a general rule binds everyone. The commandment to baptize is a general rule per modum praecepti, and concerns and binds everyone, unless somebody receives dispensation.71 As to the issue of the dignity of him who administers the sacrament, Duns Scotus is clearly on the side of Augustine in his conflict with the Donatists. The sacrament is not annulled by the evil of him who administers the sacrament, when the minister is bad or evil, if it is still the case that he intends to do what the church does. No malice of the person who administers the sacrament, annuls the sacrament, if he intends to do what the church has to do. How wrong he who administers the sacrament may be, either heretically, or schismatically, or morally, while retaining the unity of the church, he truly executes the baptism, if he intends to what the church does and keeps the modus Ecclesiae. Such a baptism truly has the sacramental effect in her or him who is baptized.72 However, if someone wants to sell a baptism, then it is not allowed to be baptized by such a simoniacus.73 It is clear that mortal sins have to be avoided and it is neither allowed to baptize, if one risks human life.74 It is appropriate that only priests baptize, and, in general, there are three necessary conditions: the strength necessary to baptize and to perform the actions of the baptism, the pronouncement of the bapti­smal formula and the execution has to be adequate.75 This implies that almost every reasonable person can administer 70 71 72 73 74 75

See Ordinatio IV 4.117-119. See Ordinatio IV 4.126-129. Ordinatio IV 5.17. The crucial phrases are: salva unitate Ecclesiae, intendere facere quod Ecclesia facit and modus Ecclesiae. See Ordinatio IV 5.58-60. See Ordinatio IV 5.61-78. See Ordinatio IV 6.14-17: ‘Respondeo: Cum oporteat baptizantem abluere baptizatum, quod est active facere corpus eius contingi ab aqua, et hoc vel per motionem corporis ad aquam, utpote immergendo, vel per motionem aquae ad corpus eius, puta perfundendo vel aspergendo, necessario requiritur in baptizante virtus motiva, qua potest aliquo

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baptism, and because Duns entirely focuses on personal action conditions, it is also allowed that women administer baptism, if there is the need to do so. Preferably, baptism is to be administered by a bishop, but as a rule it is done by a priest and all priests (sacerdotes) are allowed to do so, for there are only a few bishops. Lay baptism is acceptable, in agreement with canon law that stresses that it is not the Romanus pontifex who defines who may baptize. The Holy Spirit is the fundamental server of the grace of baptism so that even a paganus may baptize, and certainly a Christian.76 Duns does not have a technical term for ‘lay baptism,’ but the idea is clearly present. The validity of baptism concentrates on an adequate execution of the sacramental action – for instance, to baptize in the sense of cleansing (ablutio) and at the same time pronouncing the words of the baptismal rite.77 It is the act that matters, not he who administers. In contrast to the eucharist, there is one exception: it is not allowed to baptize oneself.78 A definite spiritual good which God impresses on us is given in baptism in an unrepeatable way, but this character is no subjective grace, nor a virtus infusa: it is a given present, like­ fait­h, hope and love.79 8.4

Confirmation

Already in the third century the baptism of young children was practiced frequently and already by the sixth century the catechumenate was reduced to a formality. By the ninth century the candidate’s age was not a factor. All the baptized were confirmed and shared communion, if the bishop presided. When he did not, the presbyter offered communion to all including the infants and confirmation was deferred. Probably confirmation commonly followed the baptismal eucharist by some years, but during the same period the com-

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istorum modorum active abluere alium. Cum etiam oporteat ministrum proferre verba, in quibus est forma, necesse est ipsum loqui. Cum etiam requiratur intentio in ministro (ut diceretur in tertio articulo), necesse est ipsum habere usum rationis. Simpliciter ergo nullum suppositum naturae intellectualis excluditur a posse baptizare.’ For the intentio, compare also Ordinatio IV 6.99-104 and Ordinatio IV 6.138-153. See the oppositum in Ordinatio IV 6.13, referring to Ambrose: ‘Spiritus Sanctus subministrat gratiam baptismi, licet paganus sit qui baptizat.’ For the baptism by a paganus, see Ambrose, De consecratione, caput 4. See also Ordinatio IV 6.20-22. See Ordinatio IV 6.64-80, where also criticisms of canon law can be found. See Ordinatio IV 6.83-89. See Ordinatio IV 6.198: ‘[…] quoddam spirituale, a Deo impressum suscipienti sacramentum non iterabile.’ Compare Ordinatio IV 6.279-359.

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munion of infants began to disappear and by the thirteenth century it had fallen into disuse in the West.80 Infant baptism continued to be the norm and a post-baptismal process of instruction and education led to a rite of confirmation after age seven. Independent rites of confirmation developed from the tenth century onwards.81 In 1274 the Second Council of Lyons listed confirmation among the seven sacraments of the church.82 In Ordinatio IV 7 (about 1307): Sacramentum confirmationis five topics are dealt with: the nature of this sacrament, the person who has to administer it, the effect, the conditions and the issue of unrepeatability of confirmation.83 Scotus starts with a definition: The confirmation or the sacrament of confirmation is the anointment of a wayfaring human who consents to it in one way or another, or made never use of the free judgment of the will. It is done on the forehead, by the figure of the cross with consecrated chrism, by someone who is fit to administer it, at the same time with the intention to put ointment on that person, and pronouncing certain words. By divine institution this anointment effectively signifies the anointment of the soul by strengthening grace in order to confess the faith in Christ with perseverance.84 The Council of Lyons (1274) prescribes the use of chrism. Duns’ formulations are more specific. The consecrated chrism is a mixture of olive oil and balm, especially consecrated by the bishop. The issue of consent runs parallel to the issue of consent in the case of baptism. The person who has to administer the 80

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The churches of the East continued offering the confirmation and communion of infants. See also Hauhe, Die Firmung. Geschichtliche Entwicklung und theologischer Sinn, and Kavanagh, Confirmation. Origins and Reform. On the history of confirmation, see Lukas Vischer, La Confirmation au cours des siècles. Contribution au débat sur le problème de la confirmation, Neuchatel 1959. Denzinger-Schönmetzer, Enchiridion Symbolorum, 860 (277): ‘Tenet etiam et docet eadem sancta Romana Ecclesia septem esse ecclesiastica sacramenta; unum scilicet baptisma, [...] aliud est sacramentum confirmationis, quod per manuum impositionem episcopi conferunt, chrismando renatos; aliud est paenitentia, aliud eucharistia, aliud sacramentum ordinis, aliud est matrimonium, aliud extrema unctio.’ See H. Weisweiler, ‘Das Sakrament der Firmung in den systematischen Werken der ersten Frühscholastik,’ Scholastik 8 (193­3) 481-523. Ordinatio IV 7.7: ‘Confirmatio seu sacramentum confirmationis est unctio hominis viatoris aliqualiter consentientis vel libero arbitrio numquam usi, facta in fronte in figura crucis, cum chrismate sanctificato, et hoc a ministro ideoneo, simul cum intentione debita in ungente, et verba certa proferente, significans efficaciter ex institutione divina unctionem animae per gratiam roborantem ad confitendum cum fiducia fidem Christi.’

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confirmation is the bishop or he who is entitled to execute it.85 Confirmation is not absolutely necessary for salvation, because someone is a child of the Kingdom in virtue of the grace of baptism, where Mark 16:16 is adduced on behalf of this statement.86 Along the same lines the question is answered whether confirmation is more valuable than baptism. Confirmati­on presupposes baptism which is the more noble sacrament, but ‘confirmation adds much to baptism.’87 The question whether confirmation can be repeated, also earns an answer to be expected: The principal ground is divine institution and adequacy, since by this sacrament someone is placed in a certain rank of the church, for he reaches the rank of soldier.88 According to canon law no punishment has been fixed when re-confirmation has taken place. Although argumentations of the canonists go into this direction, the science of canon law does not create law. Punishments ought to be restricted, and not extended. There is no need of a luxury of punishments, for when a member of the clergy fulfills his office, and especially in consecrating the eucharist, he religiosissime serves his God. To Him be the glory in saecula saeculorum. Amen.89 We do not need any luxury of punishments to decorate the Christian life, but there is still a point of luxury to be observed as far as the minister is concerned who has to administer this sacrament. As far as baptism is concerned, the range is as wide as possible and everyone who is priest can administer the eucharist. However, here the bishop still comes in – a silent, but impressive reminder of the role of confirmati­on/baptism in the early church.90

85 86 87 88 89 90

See Ordinatio IV 7.5-13. See Ordinatio IV 7.47-51. See Ordinatio IV 7.52-60. See Ordinatio IV 7.61-64. Ordinatio IV 7.78: ‘In exsecutione ordinum, et praecipue in consecratione eucharistiae, clericus Deo religiosissime famulatur. Cui sit gloria in saecula saeculorum. Amen.’ On present issues of confirmation, see Urs Eigenmann and Stefan Leimgruber, Firmung. Eine Brücke ins Leben, Zurich 1980, and Aidan Kavanagh, Elements of Rite. A Handbook of Liturgical Style, New York 1982.

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357

The Eucharist

The medieval practice and theory of the eucharist were rich and colorful, and it is not true that the medie­val practices and doctrines of mass were monolithic or uniform, nor that the medieval doctrine of transubstantiation was uniform. It is also to be noticed that, in contrast to the sixteenth-century situation, the differences did not have a confessional function. There were even hardly theological differences before Thomas Aquinas, because there was a conviction of faith with regard to the eucharist, but still no theology of the eucharist and certainly no theology of transubstantiation. Lateran IV (1215) uses the verb ‘transubstantiare,’ but does not have a concept of transubstantiation. The famous sentence does neither appear in a declaration about the eucharist or any other sacrament, but in a piece rejecting the Albigensian heresy. However, after Aquinas’ theology of transubstantiation, the nature of the differences of opinion between theologians became theological and philosophical. In the early modern era the theological differences of the Middle Ages became doctrinal and confessional. They accentuated the different doctrines of the different families of churches. Each family of churches had her own docrine and the other adherents were considered to be heretical. Already the second half of the eleventh century had witnessed a complicated conflict about the eucharist. The important early medieval theologians stuck to the theology of the Fathers. Even for Lanfranc, the grand twelf­th- and thirteenth-century developments would have been dangerous ground, for a monastic scholar should only know the Fathers – without being quaerentes. That intuitive knowledge should suffice. Nevertheless, this ecclesial and spiritual situation was rather different from the outlook of the early church. There, baptism and the eucharist were tight­ly interwoven: the person receiving baptism is removed from his or her old life into the land of the living. In Ambrose’s cathedral, the catechumens went down into the great font on the night before Easter in order to enter the church itself in white clothing for the eucharist on Easter Day: For Ambrose and Augustine [...] the Eucharist was the act of the group as a whole rather than an exercise of power by the priest alone.91 In the early medieval spirituality of the Latin West, baptism and the eucharist were no longer two sides of the same coin because of infant bap­tism. Moreover, the centrality of the resurrection had made room for the centrality of the 91

Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec, 71.

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suffering Christ on Good Friday – a centrality which still continues in Duns Scotus’ doctrine of the eucharist, and in later Reformation theology of the Lord’s Supper.92 Berengar of Tours and Lanfranc of Le Bec had started as friend­s, but ended up in an acrimonious exchange of opinions. Lan­franc’s theology of the eucharist was not massively realistic and Berengar’s not superficially symbolic.93 In 1079 Gregory VII secured a reconciliation with the old Berengar: I, Berengar, believe wholeheartedly and confess orally that the bread and wine which are placed on the altar are converted substantially into the true, proper, life-giving flesh and blood of Jesus Christ, our Lord, by the mystery of sacred speech and the words of our Redemptor. After the consecration they are the true body of Christ which was born of the Virgin, and hung upon the cross as an offering for the salvation of the world, and sits at the right hand of the Father, and the true blood of Christ, which flowed from his side, not merely in sacra­mental sign and power, but in their proper nature and substantial trut­h.94 This complex text was composed by Alberic, theologian, and monk of Monte Cassino. The breakthrough is the new technical term substantialiter, linked up with old cherished expressions like in proprietate naturae and veritate substantiae.95 The definitive formula dates from the Fourth Lateran Council (1215­): 92

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All these elements are already present in Paschasius De corpore et sanguine Domini (c. 830), ‘that was fundamental to eucharistic thought for 300 years:’ Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec, 74. On Berengar, see J. de Montclos, Lanfranc et Bérenger, who assesses Berengar’s theology in terms of later sacramental theology, and Macdonald, Berengar and the Reform of Sacramental Doctrine, who sees Berengar as a positive renewer. To the mind of the Dutch Beekenkamp, Berengar is the true Protestant avant la lettre: see W.H. Beekenkamp, De avondmaalsleer van Berengarius van Tours (1940) and idem, Berengarii Turonensis. De sacra Coena adversus Lanfrancum, The Hague 1941, and also W.H. Beekenkamp, ‘Berengarius van Tours,’ Christelijke Encyclopedie I (21956) 560. For the Latin text, see Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec, 95: ‘Ego Beringarius corde credo et ore confiteor panem et vinum, quae ponuntur in altari, per mysterium sacrae orationis et verba nostri Redemptoris substantialiter converti in veram et propriam vivificatricem carnem et sanguinem Iesu Christi domini nostri et post consecrationem esse verum Christi corpus quod natum est de virgine et quod pro salute mundi oblatum in cruce pependit et quod sedet ad dexteram Patris, et verum sang­uinem Christi, qui de latere eius effusus est, non tamen per signum et virtutem sacramenti, sed in proprietate naturae et veritate substantiae.’ See Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec, 94-7.

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Jesus Christ, whose body and blood are truly contained in the sacrament of the altar under the kinds of bread and wine, when by divine power bread and wine have been transubstantiated into body and blood.96 Here, we meet a dense key formula stating an article of fait­h, but not a theory which explains the sacramental transubstantiation. In fact, by then the meaning of ‘transubstantiare’ was not clear at all. The theologians of the twelfth century agreed that the ‘conversio’ was a matter of faith, but the floor was open to theory formation.97 The first theologian who developed a theory of transubstantiation seeing transubstantiation as the core of the eucharist was Thomas Aquinas. Before, there was no doctrine, only faith. After Aquinas, there was room for philosophical debates concerning the eucharist.98 When we eventually look at the reality of the eucharist in Duns’ Franciscan worl­d, we cannot say that we are struck by anything problematical. The radiance and joy of the presence of Christ in the eucharist fills its spirituality and the crowded church of the Fran­ciscan studium at Oxford was utterly beloved with the people. Duns enjoys a cheerful and dynamic ambiance surrounding the sacra­ments. Against this background, Scotus turns to the theology of the eucharist: After the Magister has dealt with baptism by which we are reborn, and confirmation by which we are strengthened, he deals with the sacrament of the eucharist by which we are nourished and perfected in what is good.99 He again opens with a definition:

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H. Denzinger and A. Schönmetzer (eds.), Enchiridion symbolorum, definitionum et declarationum, Freiburg 331965, 260 (802): ‘Iesus Christus, cuius corpus et sanguis in sacramento altaris sub speciebus panis et vini veraciter continentur, transubstantiatis pane in corpus et vino in sanguinem potestate divina.’ See Jorissen, Die Entfaltung der Transsubstantiationslehre bis zum Beginn der Hochscholastik. See McCue, Bakker and McCord Adams, Later Medieval Theories of the Eucharist, chap­ter 4. Scotus gives this summary in the opening analysis in Ordinatio IV 8.2 (praefatio): ‘Postquam Magister egit de baptismo quo regeneramur, et de confirmatione qua roboramur, hic agit de sacramento eucharistiae quo nutrimur et in bono consummamur.’

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The eucharist is an empirical sign in virtue of divine institution, after the consecration of the indispensable matter, rite done, truly containing the body and blood of Christ.100 There is also a cancelled text: The eucharist is the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ which is truly contained under the kinds of bread and wine, after the consecration by the priest having pronounced certain words, with the required intention. It truly signifies in virtue of divine institution that the body of Christ and his blood are truly contained under both kinds.101 We shall see that Duns connects a very complex theory with his classic definiti­on. We have to be aware that a certain sacramental experience is presupposed – an experience that quite different theologians like Bernard of Clairvaux and Thomas Aquinas, Duns Scotus and John Calvin shared: the lucid experience of Christ’s praesentia realis which is the cornerstone of their spiritual existence and is at the same time an experience which is enjoyed by their flesh and blood. Modern Christians may think that this is mysticism, but for all of them it was the unproblematical realism of the Lord’s Suppert. The gift of faith the eucharist is, is a lucid experience: ‘Let us thank him who wanted to quicken us with his body.’ It is the praesentia realis which quickens our life. This present of faith is a lucid experience, but there is also powerful thinking in the mighty tradition of fides quaerens intellectum. Duns immediately stresses that it is not contradictory that the body of Christ is ‘contained’ under the appearance (species) of bread and his blood under the appearance of wine.102 Faith is the starting point. Reality comes first; it is reality which has to be reflected on and has to be explained. All the sacraments are related to God and the whole of the sacramental life in the church, devotion and worship are addressed to God. Moreover, Duns Scotus stresses that the sacramental life as

100 101

102

Ordinatio IV 8.21: ‘Eucharistia est signum sensibile, ex institutione divina, post consecrationem materiae debitae rite factam, corporis Christi et sanguinis veraciter contentivum.’ Ordinatio IV 8.21: ‘Eucharistia est sacramentum corporis Christi et sanguinis, veraciter contentorum sub speciebus panis et vini post consecrationem factam a sacerdote, sub verbis certis cum debita intentione prolatis, ex divina institutione veraciter significans corpus Christi et sanquinem eius sub illis realiter contineri.’ See Ordinatio IV 10.

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such and worship existentially depend upon the presence of Christ in the eucharist. This presence strengthens and pervades all the other sacraments.103 It is appropriate that Christ is with us in such an empirical sign so that everyone is more exhorted to devotion and reverence directed to Christ. In fact, this is clear, because we can say that all devotion in the church is ordered on this sacrament.104 Duns Scotus responds to the grace of the eucharist with a powerful theoretical contribution. He stresses that the belief that the body of Christ is ‘contained’ under the kind (species) of bread and his blood under the kind of wine is not inconsi­stent. God can institute signs. God can signify what he can do, by an empirical sign that he has insti­ tuted.105 The real presence of Christ in the eucharist is a presence in and through signs. Duns Scotus offers some semantic clarifications. ‘Body’ (corpus) has to be understood in a broader sense in contradistinction to soul, and not in the strict sense of animated body. To his mind, the duality of body and blood confirms this point. Moreover, the grace of the eucharist is not grace in its­ stri­ct sense, but the effect actualized by God’s grace, namely that Christ’s body exists under such a species.106 The effect signified by bread and wine is the integral effect of one presence. Duns derives the formal aspects from the Canon Missae, which had been promulgated by Innocent III. ‘Enim,’ present in­ ‘Hoc enim est corpus meum,’ does not belong essentially to the sacramental formula:

103 104

105 106

See La Verdière, ‘Divine worship and the presence of Christ in the Eucharist according to Duns Scotus,’ Studia Scotistica III 477-82. Ordinatio IV 8.27: ‘Congruum est Christum esse nobiscum in tali signo sensibili, ut magis excitetur quilibet ad devotionem ad Christum et reverentiam. Et hoc patet de facto, quia quasi omnis devotio in Ecclesia est in ordine ad istud sacramentum.’ Reportatio Parisiensis IV 8, quaestio 1.3 offers a negatively worded parallel. See La Verdière, ‘Divine worship and the presence of Christ in the Eucharist according to Duns Scotus,’ Studia Scotistica III 473-6. Ordinatio IV 8.23: ‘Quod potest facere, potest per aliquod sensibile signum impositum significare.’ See Ordinatio IV 8.31-36.

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In ‘Hoc enim est corpus meum,’ ‘enim’ does not belong to the essence of the formula.107 As is clear from the formula itself, Chri­st is the person who speaks. He is the speaking person: This is my body­.108 Because Christ is the speaking person, it is his body all is about. The language of the cup is less fixed and there are more differences between several kinds of liturgies, as we can see, for instance, in the Greek liturgy.109 If the liturgical realities are clear, the question arises on which dynamics these realities rest. In the sixteenth century trans­ubstantiation became a shibboleth. What does Duns say about transubstantiation? He propo­ ses a definition: Trans­ubstantiation is the entire transition of a substance into another substance.110 This definition indicates the impact of a complete ‘change.’ The word ‘substance’ contra­sts this type of change with accidental chang­es which has preferably to be called trans­accidentatio, but is transubstantiation a kind of change? This definition indicates the total nature of a total ‘change’ or conversion and ‘substance’ contrasts this type of change with accidental changes which can be called ‘transaccidentatio.’111 Duns sharply distinguishes between such a ‘change’ and a change (mutatio) in the strict sense whereby the one item passes into the other item by change. In this sense transubstantiation is no change and, according to Duns, Aristot­le would not call ‘transubstantiation’ a change (mutatio) at all.112 Whatever might be the interpretati­on of transubstantiation, at any rate it is an individual act of God which requires everything to come to terms with by adequate concept formation. What is change? Generation and corruption, coming into existence, and decay and perishal are instan­ces of change. According to Aristotle, through a 107 108

109 110 111 112

Ordinatio IV 8.64: ‘Conjunctio enim non est de essentia formae.’ Ordinatio IV 8.68: ‘Ly “meum” significat referri ad personam loquentis, quia licet minister possit intendere, ut loquatur in persona Christi, non tamen – propter hoc – significatum illorum esset, quod ly “meum” denotaret corpus Christi, sed corpus loquen­tis.’ See Ordinatio IV 8.72-103. See Ordinatio IV 11.14: ‘De primo dico quod haec est conveniens ratio huius nominis “transubstantiatio”: transubstantiatio est totalis transitio substantiae in substantiam.’ See Ordinatio IV 11.21-23. See Ordinatio IV 11.35: ‘Licet ergo nobiscum supponeret transubstantiationem possibilem, tamen cum sibi repugnet illa ratio, negaret eam esse mutationem.’ Cf. Ordinatio IV 11.4547.

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change something can now be different from what it was before.113 There are two basic conditions, aptly called by Cross the ‘succession condition’ and the ‘substrate condition.’114 The ‘succession condition’ underlines that a change presupposes that something passes on from one state to another state, and the ‘substrate condition’ underlines that change presuppo­ses that there is something that is the same in successively (diachronically) different situations: it changes. We can frame four types of situation in terms of these two conditions: a) b) c) d)

both conditions obtain, no condition obtains, the succession condition obtains without the substrate condition, and the substrate condition obtains without the succession condition.

Both conditions obtain in the common situation of generation and corruption – case a) –, and case b) is characteristic of the way God is and acts in creation. Case c) is met in eucha­ristic transubstantiation, and case d) does not express a consistent phenome­non.115 Creation is not seen by Duns Scotus as a kind of mutation, since it does not satisfy the succession condition. Duns Scotus clearly distinguishes between transubstan­tiation and change (mutatio) in the strict sense of the word by which one property makes room for another property. Transubstantiation is no mutation or change in this sense and, according to Scotus, Aristotle would not call transubstantiation a mutation or change.116 The doctrine of transubstantiation executes huge pressure on the theory of change. For Duns, to change (movere, motus) encloses both divisible and indivisible change (mutatio), but, in fact, his use of ‘motus’ is rather broad. In this broad sense, the change of Christ’s body can be understood in different ways; for instance, it can also be interpreted in the sense of ‘concomitanter.’117 Whether transubstantiation is understood in one way or another, it is at any rate an individual act of God which asks for new concepts and new theory formation. Which prepositions can express this new outcome in the best way? ‘To be’ (esse), ‘to become’ (fieri) and ‘can’ (posse) are not very appropriate. Duns 113

114 115 116 117

See Ordinatio IV 11.32: ‘Mutatio vel mutatum vel mutabile est quod potest aliter se habere nunc quam prius,’ where Duns quotes Physics VI. Cf. Ordinatio IV 12.321-323 and Ordinatio II 2.181. See Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 257-8. Cf. Cross, The Physics of Duns Scotus, 258. See Ordinatio IV 11.35. See Ordinatio IV 10.303-313.

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himself prefers expressions which indicate the terminus a quo by prepositions like ‘out of ’ (ex, de) and the terminus ad quem is indicated by a preposition like ‘in’ (in).118 The favorite propositions are: The body of Christ becomes/arises out of  bread Ex/de pane fit corpus Christi and Bread passes into the body of Christ Panis transit in corpus Christi. For Duns Scotus, the second proposition is the strongest one, since it does not indicate that something common remains, as the preposition ‘out of ’ (ex) indicates according to the proper interpretation of ‘out of ’ (ex). The opposite only arises out of the opposite in a subject that both have in common.119 Duns Scotus himself draws the consequence with respect to the notion of change: To pass into, or to turn into, abstracts from the conceptual content of change, for they pose a relation from term to term, whereas it does not imply that there is still a common subject.120 This means that change – in its Aristotelian sense and in its Thomist sense – is not an appropriate concept, when transubstantial conversion is to be considered.121 Duns uses other verbs than ‘mutare’: ‘transire’ and ‘converti’ (= (intransitively) to turn into, to be converted into) over and against ‘mutare’ (= (transitively) to change). The­ Aris­totelian idea of change must accordingly be changed and extended (extensive). This becomes even more clear, if we are 118 119 120 121

For Duns, a good example of adequate usage of ‘out of/e­x’ is: ‘The afternoon becomes out of the morning’ (ex mane fit meridies). See Ordinatio IV 11.357. Ordinatio IV 11.358. Ordinatio IV 11.360: ‘“Transire” autem seu “verti” abstrahit a ratione mutationis, quia ponit habitudinem termini ad terminum, non importando subiectum commune manere.’ On abstrahere = not taking into account, see KN 71-2. ‘Abstrahere a’ means: not considering.

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aware which propositions are not appropriate to signify (significare) the sacramental ‘conversion’ (conversio). To be, to become and to be able are not appropriate: The bread has not been the body, nor is it the body, nor shall it be, and conver­sely, the body has not been bread, nor is it bread, nor shall it be. The reason of all this is that to be (esse) indicates an essential or accidental union of terms for the time which it assigns. However, these terms have no essential or accidental union or opposite denial for any temporal qualification, but a union or denial for every moment, or an opposition, namely when the terms are positive entities, or a straightforward contradiction.122 The first point makes explicit that bread and body of Christ are no essential or accidental property of each other, since these alternativies are impossible. The last point is true, since the terms are not there as positive entities at the same time: the one term is there at the moment of conversion, and the other is there not. Therefore, the logic of change does not apply at transubstantiation: Bread becomes the body is adequate neither, since bread does not assume the form of the predicate at any time, just as the proposition Man becomes an ass is just impossible, and this clearly contrasts with the proposition A human person becomes pale, which can be true.123 122

123

Ordinatio IV 11.351-352: ‘Nec enim panis fit nec fuit corpus, nec est, nec erit – nec e converso corpus non fuit, nec est, nec erit panis. [352] Et ratio omnium istorum est: Quia “esse” notat unionem extremorum – essentialem vel accidentalem – pro illo tempore quod consignificat; sed pro nulla differentia temporis habent haec extrema unionem essentialem nec accidentalem, sed pro omni instant vel disparationem (puta quando ambo extrema sunt entia positive), vel maiorem repugnantiam.’ See Ordinatio IV 11.353: ‘Enim haec est vera “Homo fit albus,” quia homo fit sub forma albedinis – et, per oppositum, haec est impossibilis “Homo fit asinus,” et hoc, loquendo stricte de virtute sermonis. Sic videtur esse in proposito.’

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Possible propositions like Bread can be the body of Christ are also unacceptable for Duns, since the predicative parallel is impossible (ibidem). In short, this conversion has to be interpreted differently. On the other hand, Duns agrees with some Ambrosian and conciliar demarcations. We note the following moves: the first theory says that the body of Christ remains bread at the same time so that the bread not only remains bread together with the body of Christ accidentally, but also essentially and substantially, but this theory is wrong.124 However, the second theory says that the bread does not remain at all, for that bread is not bread any more, whereas it changes neither. Something can cease to be by some destruction, corruption or material dissolution (per annihilationem, per resolutionem in materiam or per corruptionem in aliud). However, these views are also wrong:125 Therefore, I answer as to this article – namely that we have to hold is what is generally held that neither the bread remains – against the first theory –, nor is annihilated or reduced to prime matter, but is converted into the body of Christ.126 The eucharist contains the body of Christ ‘vere et realiter’ (continetur). The constructive countermove outbids both the first and the second options: There is no bread any more, for there remains no bread (against 1),127 but the bread is not destroyed, nor annihilated,128 for the bread is converted (converti­tur) into the body of Christ (agai­nst 2).129 Then, auctoritates of Ambrose and Peter Lombard are called upon to lend support to this view, but Duns Scotus also 124 125 126

127 128 129

See Ordinatio IV 11.97-107. See Ordinatio IV 11.108-115 The idea of the corruptio in aliud is also found in Lanfranc’s Liber de corpore et sanguine Domini, but rejected by Duns Scotus. Ordinatio IV 11.133: ‘Quantum igitur ad istum articulum, quid scilicet sit tenendum, respondeo quod communiter tenetur, quod nec panis manet (contra primam opinionem), nec annihilatur vel resolvitur in materiam primam, sed convertitur in corpus Christi.’ James McCue consistently calls this the consubstantiation view. McCue consistently calls this the annihilation view. Duns discusses two theories: the first theory says that the body of Christ remains bread at the same time (Ordinatio IV 11.58-77, and the second says that the bread does not remain at all, but it changes neither (converti), for it ceases to be by some destruction, corruption or material dissolution (Ordinatio IV 11.78-87).

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underlines that we have to hold concerning the sacraments what the Church holds,130 for Ecclesia non errat.131 The well-known criticisms of both theories are also wrong,132 but what both theories have in common, is right: The bread passes on transubstantially (transubstantiatur) into the body of Christ and the wine into his blood. This is an uncommon feature for Duns who, in general, is very relaxed in doctrinal matters. Usually, there is no tension between the faith of the church, doctrine and systematic and critical theology, but here Scotus grants that the truth of the eucharist could have maintained without transubstantiation. When you say in the minor premiss, that the truth of the eucharist could be maintained, when the bread remains or without transubstantiation, I say that it would well have been possible for God to have instituted that the body of Christ were truly present, while the substance of bread remains.133 However, this is incompatible with the auctoritates Ecclesiae, for transub­ stantiati­on is a matter of faith in virtue of the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) and the constitution of the Canon Missae of Innocent III. We have to hold what the Church holds and to Duns’ mind the term ‘transubstantiation’ has a clear and substantial meaning. From the historical point of view we can state that there was no clear public meaning of ‘transubstantiare’ at the beginning of the thirteenth century. Three main points are clear: the miracle of the praesentia realis of Chris­t, the presence of the preexistent body of Christ and the nature of the integrity of bread and wine: accidentally, but not substantially! On the basis of the prae­ sentia realis the systematic tension aggravates into the coherence of Chris­t’s bodily presence in the sacrament and the ontological status of bread and wine. It is the corner stone of Duns Scotus’ theology of the eucharist that both bread 130 131 132 133

Ordinatio IV 11.135: ‘Principaliter autem videtur movere, quia de sacramentis tenendum est, sicut tenet sancta Romana Ecclesia.’ See Ordinatio IV 11.133-138. The refutation of the traditional criticisms bestowed on both theories is to be found in Ordinatio IV 11.116-132, and Duns’ personal criticisms follow in Ordinatio IV 11.138-142. See Ordinatio IV 11.138: ‘Cum dicis in minore ‘Veritas eucharistiae posset salvari manente pane vel sine transubstantiatione,’ dico quod bene fuisset Deo possibile instituisse, quod corpus suum vere esset praesens cum substantia panis manente.’

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and Christ’s body are entirely available for what God decides to do – both on the level of existence and of non-existence. The church does not make the sacrament true, but only God who institutes it, and the nature of contingent reality makes it possible that bread is transubstantially converted into the body of Christ, for we see still bread: it does not disappear on the accidental level, but it disappears on the essential level.134 For this reason, Duns’ approach needs a new theory of accidents. A Christian Aristotelian approach makes the body of Christ the new bearer of the accidents of bread. According to Scotus, bread does not substantially remain bread, whereas we still see bread: it neither disappears, for it is neither destroyed nor destructed. McCue stresses that Duns only subscribes to the transubstantiation view, as he consistently calls it, because the Church holds it, and neither for biblical nor for argumentative reasons, and this is the common view till Luther started to criticize the transubstantiation view, but there is more to be said. Duns Scotus’ point of view also elicits his distinction between transubstantiation in a producti­ve and in an adductive sense. Productive transubstantiation leads to a substance which receives its existence (esse): the terminus ad quem is elicited as a new entity. Adductive transubstantiation is related to a substance as it receives its existence here throu­gh that transubstantiation­.135 Transubstan­ tiation in the first sense cannot obtain for a term or a substance which was already there. Transubstantiation in the second sense offers quite a different picture: In the second way, transubstantiatio is so that it relates to a substance which likewise receives being here through it. The first kind of transubstantiation can be called transubstantiation which produces its terminus ad quem; the second kind of transubstantiation can be called adductive, for the term is adduced to be here. [.­..] There can be very well a transubstantiation to what is pre-exi­stent, because it can become a new present here where the terminus a quo has been.136

134 135 136

See Ordinatio IV 11.161-164. Quodlibet X stresses more the productive transubstantiation. This shows that the revision of Ordinatio IV 11 must have taken place after the Quodlibet. Ordinatio IV 11.166 and 167: ‘Alio modo, ut sit ad substantiam ut per ipsam accipientem “esse hic.” Prima actio potest dici productiva sui termini ad quem; secunda adductiva, quia per ipsam adducitur terminus, ut sit “hic.” [...] Secundo modo, bene potest esse transubstantiatio in praeexistens, quia potest fieri de novo hic praesens, ubi fuit terminus “a quo”.’

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The proper impact of transubstantiation is a new presence and the main point of Duns’ doctrine of the eucharist is to be located in the positive counterpart in which way the body of Christ which is in heaven – that presence is not a disputable point – can somehow be present elsewhere too, namely in the sacrament of the eucharist. The body of­ Christ already exists and, so, it is impossible that it can get some new substan­tial existence (esse substantiale novum), but only a new kind of being present, a new presence. The body of Christ receives a new presence. Duns Scotus relates the terminus ad quem (the body of Christ) to praesentia as such. The key of the adductive transubstan­ tiation is that the second term (the terminus ad quem) follows the first term (the terminus a quo), while that first term (bread, wine) does not exist substanti­ ally any more, but it is not changed into the second term either. The conclusion is: Since this conversion relates to a piece of bread, being present before under these kinds, the conversion into a body is unique as it is present to the same kinds.137 Being bread is now formally the being here of the body of Christ and, therefore, nothing of the nature, or essence or substance (substantia), of bread remains after the ‘transubstantiation’ (conversio). The bread is not destroyed through this conversion, it disappears.138 The second term does not succeed in terms of being without ado, but in terms of being here present to the pre-existent bread. Therefore, bread only converts (convertitur) and only passes on into the body of Christ in terms of being here, being present to the pre-existent bread.139 The corpus Christi is after the consecration, where the hostia is in virtue of a uniform presence (praesentia). The hostia has both the one and the other spatial presence which extends over the corpus Christi. That other presence is only true in terms of change which is not change in a materialistic sense (mutatio),

137 138 139

Ordinatio IV 11.174: ‘Conversio igitur est unica, quia unius substantiae panis – prius praesentis istis speciebus – in unum corpus ut praesens eisdem.’ See Ordinatio IV 11.310-322. See Ordinatio IV 11.175: ‘Terminus posterior non succedit secundum “esse” simpliciter, sed secundum “esse hic praesens” pani praeexsistenti. Ergo, nec panis converti­tur, nec transit in corpus Christi, nisi secundum “esse hic”.’

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but in a broader sense of change (sic extensive sumpta).140 This is the decisive original point. Here, both the one and the other kind of presence are not without any change, taken in the extensive sense, and the presence is present in this way in the first body, namely here, for the body of Christ as it is in heaven has this presence in no way, and, to put it more strongly, neither of both.141 We may expect that Scotus has still to add his typically Scotian viewpoint: I say that it is not necessary without ado that this body is present under this appearance (manente specie), but only on the basis of the divine dispensation of salvation which the church has certified.142 In sum, transubstantiation is not as such related to a body which takes up other space, with the preservation of the empirical appearance (manente ­specie). This specific change, or conversion – using the traditional term is characteristic for Duns – rests on a free act of will of God who effectuates the one without changing something else. Everything turns around the free and gracious initiative of God who does not make independent the means and instruments of his grace. It is like bearing a ball in a basket. The connection is contingent. We have decided to do so. To say that the basket moves the ball, is not to the point, if we bear the basket, although the ball remains in the basket because of gravity. It is only present to it by an act of will which relates contingently to the connec­tion and which, conse­quently, possibly does not will that connection, whereas the motion of the other factor of those continues.143

140 141

142 143

See Ordinatio IV 10.314-316. Ordinatio IV 10.315: ‘Haec autem alia et alia praesentia non est sine mutatione sic extensive sumpta, et ista inest primo corpori, ut hic, quia nullo modo corpus Christi, ut in caelo habet aliam praesentiam, immo neutram.’ Ordinatio IV 10.316. Ordinatio IV 10.319: ‘Tantummodo est sibi praesens voluntate alia contingenter se habente ad illam coniunctionem, quae per consequens potest non velle coniunctionem illam, stante tamen motione alterius illorum.’ In terms of the example of the ball and the basket, if the ball were to be a free co-moving person, it is not me who moves the other person.

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The presence of the body of Christ related to the appearance of bread does not deliver any changes of Christ on the basis of the movements of the bread.144 The body of Christ cannot be manipulated.145 However, can a body be in different places at the same time? Thomas Aquinas and Henry of Ghent, Giles of Rome and Godfrey of Fontaines held that it is impossible that a body can be present at more places – both in terms of potentia ordinata and in terms of potentia absoluta.146 Duns Scotus’ objection against this thesis is that what is not evidently impossible, is possible for God. According to Scotus A body is in more places is evidently not an analytical contradicti­on: I answer to the question that when I grant whatsoever according to a principle I know (which is a most certain principle for me), that everything is possible for God that does not evidently include a contradiction and does neither entail a necessary contradiction. This is the case here, because the arguments that are adduced in order to point out a contradiction, do not seem to be valid, as will become clear, when we solve some arguments.147 God cannot perform what is impossible, for what is impossible, is not an alternative and if it is no alternative to be done, it cannot be done. A necessary falsehood is not an option. It is wrong to say that even God cannot do what is not possible, for this has nothing to do with what is possible at all and has nothing to do with what is possibly to be done at all. The point is not that God cannot do it. The point is only that it cannot be done. If what cannot be done, is not done, this is not the result of some unability or lack of power on anybody’s side. The possibility of being unable to do so does not even occur here. Duns distinguishes between two kinds of contradictions, namely explicit contradictions and implicit contradictions: If something self-evidently contains a contradiction, it is an explicit contradiction and if a contradiction necessarily follows, because the contradiction is entailed by it, the contradic-

144 145 146 147

See the six theses in Ordinatio IV 10.341-346­. See Ordinatio IV 10.80-88. See Ordinatio IV 10.121-128. Ordinatio IV 10.121: ‘Ad quaestionem igitur respondeo, quod cum quidlibet concedam secundum maximam mihi notam (quae est maxima mihi certissima), quod Deo est possibile omne quod non includit evidenter contradictionem, et ad quod etiam non sequitur necessaria contradictio. Et hoc est huiusmodi, quia rationes quae inducuntur ad probandum contradictionem non videntur concludere, ut patebit solvendo rationes.’

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tion is an implicit one.148 Contradictions which are not analytically evident, might be proven necessary falsehoods with the help of a careful analysis. Duns Scotus’ point of departure is: What does not self-evidently include a contradiction and what does not necessarily entail a contradiction, is possible for God, But in this case he does not account for this viewpoint. Duns claims that the following general principle is certain for him: It suffices in general that whatever not self-evidently contradictory has to be considered as possible for God, but here he does not apply the distinction between explicit contradictions and implicit contradictions: Duns is right in claiming that God cannot do the impossible, but if something is not evidently impossible, then Duns Scotus simply says here: It is possible and this is applied to his doctrine of transubstantiation. Usually Duns proves his points of consistency and provability, but here he only makes his point: being somewhere – at a certain place – is not intrinsically linked with a body.149 However, if this were to be a contradiction, then such a sacramental presence of Christ would be impossible, but we can only consistently state this implication in an explicit way, if the sacramental presence implies a local presence, whereas with respect to the other sacraments or the proclamation of the Word we do not claim this presupposition: When I say ‘A body is locally in different places at the same time,’ I only express a certain relation which appears extrinsically, quantitatively founded on another limiting quantity.150 Duns believes that the following two positions are equivalent: 148

149 150

Cf. Antonie Vos and Eef Dekker, ‘Modalities in Francis Turrettin. An Essay in Reformed Ontology,’ in Wisse, Sarot and Otten (eds.), Scholasticism Reformed, 77-81 (74-91), where Duns Scotus is also discussed: op. cit., 78-9. See Allan Wolter and Oleg V. Bychkov (eds.), Reportatio I-A: The Examined Report of the Paris Lecture, 344 (§ 44). See Ordinatio IV 10.121. Compare Ordinatio III 8. The category ubi only expresses a ‘quemdam respectum extrinsecus advenientem’ (Ordinatio IV 10.122). Ordinatio IV 10.122: ‘Cum enim dico “Corpus esse simul localiter in diversis locis,” nihil dico super hoc corpus nisi quemdam respectum extrinsecus advenientem, fundatum in “quanto” ad aliud “quantum” circumscribens.’

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This argument can be briefly formulated in this way – not only against him, but also in order to prove this inference: ‘two bodies can exist at the same time, therefore the same body can exist in two places at the same time.’151 The idea that the notions of place and body are inseparable is apparently to be linked with an empiricism which is objectionable in itself, but the boun­daries of empirical imagination (imaginatio) are not identical with the boundaries of thinking and argumentation as such. When one leaves aside the monopoly of the empirical and sensible imagination, Duns Scotus suggests that places can be multiplied without the multiplication of a body. A body can have more presences than its first place, for instance, warmth, hunger, life, and institutional presences.152 In a sacramental way, the body of Christ which is in heaven, can be somewhere else, quantitatively and locally. A sensible sign truly contains (continet) the body of Christ which is present here, ‘post consecrationem vel conversionem sub sacramento.’153 Therefore, Chris­t is in heaven suo modo naturali, but in the eucharist modo sacramentali, but what is then left of local presence?154 Here, the paradoxical twist is that there is local presence without any natural change. In Thomas Aquinas’ theology of the eucharist, there is natural change without local presence, but why would there be any need of natural change, if it does not result in presence? 8.5.1 The Inseparability or Separability of Accidents A remarkable characteristic of the traditional doctrine of transubstantiation combines the notion of substantial change with the conviction that the 151

152

153

154

Ordinatio IV 10.103: ‘Haec ratio breviter potest sic formari non tantum contra eum, sed ad probandum consequentiam istam “duo corpora possunt esse simul, ergo idem in duobus locis simul”.’ These alternative examples are not examples of bodily presence. Moreover, hunger is not at several places in the body and the fact that empiricism is objectionable in itself does not imply that the intrinsic connection between a body and a place is untenable. We may ask whether the implications of transubstantiation can also enlighten other dilemmas as is the case with respect to other theological dilemmas, for instance, creation, redemption, God’s knowledge and will, contingency and the incarnation. Ordinatio IV 10.194: ‘Dico igitur quod, ponendo conversionem in proposito […] et ponendo quod hic sit aliquod signum sensibile continens vere corpus Christi hic praesens, quod sensibile dicatur sacramentum – quod quidem verum est, scilicet corpus Christi de facto hic esse, post consecrationem vel conversionem sub sacramento.’ See Ordinatio IV 14, quaestio 1.8, referring to the Symbolum. God is ‘remissivus peccatorum.’

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accidents of bread and wine remain. Peter Lombard states that the accidents of bread and wine subsist without a subject (sine subiecto).155 Medieval theories of accidents usually see the accident intrinsically linked with the subject it inheres in. At the beginning of his treatment of the issue of the inseparability or separability of accident and subject in Ordinatio IV 12 Duns Scotus considers the view stating that they are inseparable.156 Not only the theory of presence is challenged by the belief that the bread of the eucharist is transubstantiated into the body of Christ, but also the theory of accidents. Are accidents separable? In order to able to develop his own approach Duns Scotus offers three distinctions. He starts with the basic distinction that the word ‘accident’ has a twofold meaning, for it has its own meaning and if this proper meaning is used, there is something it can refer to: I say to the question that this word ‘accident’ can be used for its signification in itself, or for that which is referred to by this signification – and this distinction is universal in all that is concrete.157 A word used to talk about reality has its own meaning and by this proper meaning it can be used to refer to something in reality or to say something about what is the case. We have the meaning of a noun – the level of connotation – and we have what is referred to by that noun – the level of denotation. So, the first distinction utilizes a basic semantic aspect of meaningful words used to

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See Peter Lombard, Sententiae IV 12 chapter 1. For a complete survey, consult F. Jansen, ‘Eucharistiques (accidents),’ Dictionaire de théologie catholique V 2, Paris 1924, 1368-1452. The crucial philosophical treatments are Paul Bakker’s : ‘Les accidents eucharistiques,’ La raison et le miracle I, 293-430, and Marilyn McCord Adams’s: Some Later Medieval Theories on the Eucharist. See Ordinatio IV 12.1-20. Ordinatio IV 12.25: ‘Ad quaestionem dico, quod hoc vocabulum “accidens” potest accipi pro per se significato eius, vel pro eo quod denominatur ab isto per se significato (et ista distinctio est universalis in omnibus concretis.’ A parallel distinction is found in Duns’ Metaphysica VII 1.8: ‘Responsio: distinguitur primo de accidente. Quod “accidens,” si accipitur pro illo quod per se significat nomen, ut pro conceptu quem importat nomen accidentis per se – qui est ipsa accidentalitas –, synonymum videtur cum hoc quod est inhaerentia, et tunc nulla est quaestio. Si accipiatur pro illo quod denominat hoc concretum “accidens,” puta pro quantitate, sic quaestio habet locum, et sic fiat deinceps sermo.’ This discovery was made by Paul Bakker and there is also a unique treatment of this distinction by Bakker: La raison et le miracle I, 370-1.

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talk about reality. Then, the second distinction elaborates on the second part of the first distinction: Second, by using it for that which is referred to by the signification of this noun, ‘accident’ can be understood either as something independent, or as something that is relational or an accidental relation.158 Having offered two distinctions, Duns spells out the harvest: According to these moves we have then three elements, namely accident as the concept in itself which ‘accident’ elicits, and the accident with respect to that which is said in a denominative way and is independent; the third element is the accident with respect to that which is called accident in a denominative way and is relational.159 We have the elements to be considered in front of us. Now it is time to spell out the implication for the issue under consideration. If the word ‘accident’ functions, a predicate is at stake and a predicate is as such a predicate of a subject. So, the crucial ontological presupposition is: This predicate is in the subject, or is not in the subject. The interesting move Duns makes is that he continues to comment on the function of an accidental predicate. The first focus relates to the difference between connotation and denotation, and then it is asked whether it is possible that an accident does not inhere. Of course, an accident or an accidental 158

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Ordinatio IV 12.25: ‘Ulterius, accipiendo pro illo quod denominatur a significato istius nominis, “accidens” potest accipi vel pro absoluto, vel pro respectivo sive respectu accidentali.’ Compare Metaphysica VII 1.12: ‘Ad quaestionem igitur primo dico quod neutra inhaerentia est de essentia accidentis in secundo modo sumpti, scilicet accipiendo “accidens” pro eo quod hoc nomine denominatur, ut quantum, quale et huiusmodi. Tum quia fundamentum respectus est aliquid praeter respectum, respectus inhaerentiae utriusque in substantia non fundatur, quia tunc substantia inhaereret et non esset terminus respectus. Igitur in accidente absoluto, […], quia non est ratio fundamentalis respectu sui; igitur in absoluto praecise; igitur est extra conceptum eius quidditativum, cum respectus sit posterior natura fundamento.’ Ordinatio IV 12.26: ‘Secundum hoc igitur habentur tria membra, scilicet de accidente quantum ad per se rationem, quam importat “accidens,” et de eo quod denominative dicitur accidens et est absolutum; tertium membrum de eo quod denominative dicitur accidens et est respectivum.’

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property can be absent, but, according to Duns, then the relation of inherence is not present as such. So, the accident can be there without the subject. Independent accidents are possible. The accidents of bread can be there, whereas the subjectivity of what is essentially bread disappears. In this way Duns tries to save the doctrine of transubstantiation, although he denies that a change of one substance into another in the Aristotelian or Thomist sense of change is possible. Therefore, the body of Christ is not the bearer of the accidents of bread. The accidents are subjectless. The body of Christ does not become essentially bread. He is present in the eucharist.160 Here, another distinction can be applied: Moreover, this predicate is in the subject, or it is not in the subject, and this can be considered in terms of a disposition or in terms of actuality.161 On the basis of these distinctions Duns Scotus draws several theses: Therefore, the first thesis is that if we talk about the proper signification of ‘accident,’ it is a contradiction to think that it is not in the subject, and that in a uniform way – both with respect to the subject and to the predicate, namely, if it is so in reality, really, and if in the way of a disposition, then in the way of a disposition.162 This can be proven: The first thesis is proven: the proper signification of the noun ‘accident’ is a certain relation to that which it occurs to, and surely the same relation which the word ‘inherent’ implies, to that in which it inheres.163 160

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It is to be asked whether this argumentation is valid. Do the distinctions Duns makes, fulfill the job they have to perform? Late medieval theology grants that there are no biblical and rational arguments in favor of transubstantiation. Here, the only basis is one sentence proposed by the Council of Lateran IV, but is it indispensable? Ordinatio IV 12.27: ‘Praeterea, hoc praedicatum “esse in subiecto,” vel “non esse in su­biecto,” potest accipi secundum aptitudinem vel secundum actualitatem.’ On the notion of aptitudino, see DPhil 315-19. Ordinatio IV 12.28: ‘Sit igitur prima conclusio, quod – loquendo de per se significato accidentis –, contradictio est ipsum intelligere non esse in subiecto, et hoc intelligendo uniformiter in subiecto et praedicato, scilicet si actu actu, si aptitudine aptitudine.’ Ordinatio IV 12.31: ‘Prima conclusio probatur, quia per se significatum huius nominis “accidens” est quidam respectus ad id cui accidit, et forte idem respectus quem importat

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The second thesis runs as follows: Because that which is named by the proper (per se) signification of ‘accident’ and is a relation in itself, it is contradictory that it is without a subject.164 8.5.2 Final Evaluative Considerations Duns Scotus’ view of transubstantiation is intrinsically connected with his new theories of place and space, because Scotus presents an alternative way out by disconnecting the notions of place and body. There are two surprising moves: a property can lose the subject, although is can still be in other subjects, because the bearer disappears; and a place can lose a body, although the accidents of the body remain. The connection between place and space is also re­sponsible for the central difference between Luther’s and Calvin’s doctrines of the Lord’s Supper. The viewpoint of the unaffected bodily presence of Christ in heaven and the pneumatological nature of the presence in bread and wine connects Duns Scotus with Calvin.165 The intimacy of Christ’s praesentia realis according to Duns reminds of the Lutheran notion of con-substantiation. However, Scotus elaborates his doctrine of transubstantiation in a formally ontological way, including a renewal of the concepts of ‘change,’ body and place. Duns Scotus’ theory formation enjoys a tendency on its own.166 Duns Scotus subscribes to one body, including one body of Christ, though by multiplicating places, but the Reformed tradition does not. The peace can be sought along the lines of contingency theories for bodies and the contingency of place and space, but reality is not contingent in the sense that every body and everything can be omnipresent.167

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haec dictio “inhaerens” ad illud cui inhaeret.’ Ordinatio IV 12.29: ‘Quod loquendo de eo quod denominatur a per se accidentis significato et est per se respectus, contradictio est quod sit sine subiecto, et hoc actu, ita scilicet quod non actu inhaereat subiecto, extendendo subiectum ad fundamentum quod potest dici proximum subiectum respectus.’ Nevertheless, an alternative theory of heaven is needed too and this is made possible with the help of a theory of Christ’s multidimensionality – in an multidimensional heaven, elicited by the resurrection. God as such does not have a heaven, for he does not need it, but God Incarnate does. Vos, Het is de Heer!, 134-5, proposed a pacification of Lutheran and Reformed doctrines of the Lord’s Supper. Here, the crucial point is the subjectless accident, for then it can be at several places.

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Penance and Confession

Opus Oxoniense IV numbers six volumes in the Vivès-edition. After volume 16 (the sacra­ment in general, and baptism) and volume 17 (eucharist) we find a volume devoted to the sacrament of confession and repentance (volume 18: Ordinatio IV 14-22). This simple fact mirrors the basic truth that Christianity is a repentance religion. Poenitentia (repentance, penance) plays a key role in the repentance religion the Christian religion is par excellence. It rests on the forgiveness of sins and is indispensable for the eternal happiness of sinning elects.168 Ordinatio IV 14-16 cover all the involved issues. On the one hand, the forgiveness is divine acceptance (acceptatio divina), on the other hand, there is regular poena (poenitentia!)­, for a penitent has and holds on to peni, before he does penance. In the course of the ninth and tenth centuries the public penance passed out of use.169 The private confession and penance were also fostered by the practice of the monasteries. In this way pan voluntary confession under the guidance of the priest slowly developed. After the tenth century confession and penance were almost synchronized. Canon 21 of the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) prescribed that all Christians should confess their sins and receive holy communion once a year.170 There is a rather universal, but no necessary connection between forgiveness and poenitentia and poena (both penance and punishment). To do poena is intrinsically linked with the obligatio which is binding before God.171 The primary penance is sadness, tristesse (tristitia), before God. The agent doing what is wrong, is also the actor of repentance and penance, for the agent has willed to do so. The sinful act is an act of will (voluntaria). The answer must also be an act of will, based in sincere emotions. Wrong acts of will are painful, and this sadness because of sin is elicited by sympathy for righteousness. The Anselmian climax of ‘to will in the proper sense of willing – iustitia – goodness’ also colors Scotus’ doctrine of repentance and penance. Poenitentia is poenam tenere, holding on to penance, and it is itself an act of will, born from a sadness 168 169 170 171

See Ordinatio IV 14, quaestio 1.9. See Anciaux, La théologie du sacrement de pénitence au xiie siècle. The traditional view was: quorum peccata in publico sunt debet esse poenitentia. See Poschman, Die abendländische Kirchenbusse im frühen Mittelalter, and Anciaux, La théologie du sacrement de pénitence au xiie siècle. See Ordinatio IV 14, quaestio 1.8-13. On Duns Scotus’ theology of repentance, see Klein, ‘Zur Busslehre des seligen Joh. Duns Skotus,’ Franziskanische Studien 27 (1940) 104ff. and 191ff.

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that accepts the ‘punishment’ with patience and joy.172 Here, poena functions as the Hebrew chattat that means both sin and ‘punishment,’ and sin-offering: according to the Old Testament law of reality itself, sin elicits ‘punishment.’ In terms of the spirituality of the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth centuries ‘poeni-tentia’ is the interiorization of the poena. Repentance is primarily the elementary fact of life that takes life seriously. Then, one is convinced that it is just that one’s own sin is not left as it was. Our lives need assessment, even if there is the view that we are to blame and do not go off. This implies that one ought to will that guilt is to be reckoned with, that punishment is fair, and reconciliation needed, even if we do not have adequate emotions.173 The crucial connections are contingent. Repentance belongs to the area of will, just as the disposition of love. However, contritio (contrition, Dutch: the heart is shattered), confessio (confession, Dutch: the acknowledgement of sin), and satisfactio (satisfaction: deeds have to atone for what has been done) are matters of becoming. They mark our existence from sadness, sense of truth and labor, but they are no essential compo­nents of being penitent. However, though they are not entailed by being penitent, they are required by the sacrament of penance. Poenitentia comes as a sacrament from the other side: it is the sacramental absolution which is expressed by words. Remorse, confession and satisfac­tion are needed for receiving adequately the sacrament. The confession of sin must precede, and the satisfaction serves the efficiency of the sacrament.174 We have to be aware that for Duns the distinction between sadness and contrition is crucial, and it is also realistic. Again, we have to pay attention to the Latin idiom: ‘penitence’ is literally poeni-tentia (-tence) = holding on to the rule which lays down the connection with poena. The acknowledgment that poena has to be imposed elicits sadness. Sin hurts, human existence can be painful. The medieval train of thought is anchored in a triad we know from the Old Testament: sin – punishment – penance as an offering of reconciliati­on.175 The

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The biblical coloring of medieval poenitentia faith includes the fact that the Vulgate the metanoia (conversion) of the Gospels translates by ‘poenitentia’: Prove your repentance (poenitentia) by the fruits it bears (New English Bible). See Ordinatio IV 16.9: ‘Non enim potest voluntas per actum volendi imperare poenam, nisi prius imperando causam poenae, quia passiones non sunt in potestate voluntatis nisi mediantibus actibus.’ See Ordinatio IV 16.16-31. See Ordinatio IV 14.167-187. For the Old Testament notion of sin – punishment, see Von Rad, Old Testament Theology I, London 41975, 262-72.

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basic meaning of satisfacere is in fact the same as the meaning of the Hebrew verb kipper: to atone = to make well again.176 On the one hand, Duns’ analysis is merciful, when he follows the Franciscan pastoral tradition. If we make the connections between confession, remorse, satisfaction, tears, fasting, alms and sadness essential, a world of human experience can easily collapse into despair, as some developments in later pietism show. The point is not that Duns would be interested in weakening our consciousness or sense of sin,177 but earnestness also requires insight into the human character and asks for mildness. The universe of the sacrament of repentance/penance is no system of fines and the human heart is no machine. Here, Duns’ analyses are again built on the phenomenon of contingency. On the other hand, sin and guilt can be linked with grace. Forgiveness of sins and the gift of grace are not one and the same change. There is plural forgiveness, and there is one grace.178 They are interconnected and do not fall apart. It is not necessary that sin deprives of grace. Sin is not too much for grace – grace can cope with sin. It is grace which forgives us our sins and guilt.179 The channel of the sacrament of repentance remains the primary power of the keys, the auctoritas of opening the heavens which only belongs to God, for He alone is righteous from himself, for he is righteousness itself.180 Primary judgment is only the judgment of the first judge. It is impossible that God shares his prima potestas iudicandi with someone else, just as he cannot share his being divine with someone else. The eminent power of keys is only a power of Christ, and does not belong to the fighting church.181 She has only a 176 177 178 179 180 181

Dutch: weer goed maken (German: wieder gut machen). In Dutch penance is boete, and fishermen say when they amend their nets: netten boeten (= to repair, weer goed maken). In contrast with many other authors on contritio/attritio with Duns, this point was well made by De Bruin, Handboek der Kerkgeschiedenis II, Leeuwarden 61980, 227. See Ordinatio IV 16.13-20. See Ordinatio IV 16.44-55 and 76-83. Ordinatio IV 18-19, 23: ‘Quia ipse solus ex se est iustus, immo iustitia.’ Duns’ nuanced and rich theology of repentance deserves a monograph. According to Friedrich Loofs, Leitfaden, 305, it is a triumph of ‘die vulgär-katholische Verkehrung der Gnadenlehre.’ According to Kurt Aland (ed.), Friedrich Loofs. Leitfaden zum Studium der Dogmengeschichte (­61959), 493, Duns Scotus condes­cendingly makes distinctions between classes or levels of believers. However, Duns only points out structural differences, for instance, between adult baptism and infant baptism. When Duns by the way mentions the unique value of the sacrament of repentance, it is said: ‘Es klingt wie Hohn,

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special authority to judge – on the third level – in a way which is not irrevocable.182 The cluster of the distinctions on repentance has a special excursus on natural law to be found in Ordinatio IV 17: ‘Ought a sinner to confess all his sins to a priest?’ Both the definition itself and the equation of ius naturale and lex naturae are crystal-clear: a practical truth derives from natural or positive, divine or ecclesiastical law.183 The analysis in Ordinatio IV 21.2: ‘Ought a priest always to keep the secret?’ is a fine continuation of all this. The answer runs as follows: No superior, not even the pope, can command a priest to reveal anyone’s sin.184 These interesting parts of philosophical ethics are still enriched with political and economical theory in Ordinatio IV 15.2.185 8.7

The Extreme Unction

Peter Lombard only devotes Sententiae IV 23 to the sacrament of the last rites (the extreme unction).186 We are ill. We have to be healed and are in need of medicine. Baptism and repen­tance are medicines to acquire grace, but the extreme unction presupposes grace. It is a sacrament of the new law.187 The last rites of the extreme unction concern the final forgiveness:

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184 185

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ist aber ganz ernst gemeint, wenn Duns erklärt nulla alia (via) est ita facilis et ita certa.’ Cf. Loofs, Leitfaden (31893), 306. See §9.4. See Ordinatio IV 19.22-31. Cf. § 5.4, and for the Latin text, see chapter 5 note 30. The ethical texts are to be found in Ordinatio IV 17 – see Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 262-9, and The Introduction, op. cit., 57-60. Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 114. See Ordinatio IV 15, quaestio 2.3-40, where also a splendid commnentary of Antonius Hiquaeus, running over 211 sections (!), is found. Compare Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 310-17, and idem, ‘The Introduction,’ op. cit., 73-5. This distinction is mainly based on the Summa Sententiarum and Hugh of Saint Victor, De sacramentis. See Browe, ‘Die Letzte Ölung in der abendländischen Kirche des Mittelalters,’ Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie 55 (1931) 515-61, and Weisweiler, ‘Das Sakrament der Letzten Ölung in den systemati­sche Werken der ersten Frühscholastik,’ Scholastik 7 (1932) 321-53 and 524-60. Ordinatio IV 23, quaestio unica 1: ‘Utrum extrema unctio sit sacramentum novae legis.’

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First, that it is possible that there is an effective sign of the final forgiveness of what is forgivable, that it is appropriate, and that it happened,188 when we say goodbye to our life. It has been instituted according to James 5: The last unction is the anointing of the ill human person in repentance, executed on certain parts of the body, by means of oil, consecrated by the bishop, at the same time administered by the priest who pronounces certain words, accompanied by the obligato­ry intention. This sacrament effectively signifies the final healing by the forgiveness of the venial sins on the basis of divine institution.189 This sacrament can only be received in a situation characterized by grace in a penitent way. This implies that the sacrament of the last rites has not been instituted for the little children( parvuli) who are not aware of reflection and penitence. The penitent ought to have a clear act of will to receive this sacrament. The organs of the faculties by which we sin, have to be anointed: the five senses – the two eyes, the two ears, the two nostrils, the two hands, the tongue through the mouth, the feet, and the loins. Here, pure oil satisfies, without balm, consecrated by the bishop, because the sign concerns a pure consciousness. 8.8

Sacred Orders

More attention is devoted to the sacred orders – the sacrament that underscores the other sacraments, which Duns Scotus explains in Ordinatio IV 24

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Ordinatio IV 23, quaestio 1.6: ‘Primo, an possibile sit esse aliquod sacramentum Novae Legis, quod sit signum efficax finalis remissionis venalium, et quod hoc congruit et quod hoc factum est.’ Cf. Ordina­tio IV 23, quaestio 1.9: ‘Hoc etiam factum esse probatur ex illo verbo Iacobi 5: “Si in peccatis est, remittentur ei.”’ Observe that Duns utilizes the thirteenth-century division of the books of the Bible into chapters. The division into verses dates from the sixteenth century. James 5:14 is at stake. Ordinatio IV 23, quaestio 1.12: ‘Extrema unctio est unctio hominis infirmi poenitentis, in determinatis partibus corporis, cum oleo consecrato ab episcopo, ministrata a sacerdote, simul verba certa cum intentione debita proferente, ex institutione divina efficaciter significans curationem finalem venalium.’ The definition is mainly derived from James 5:1415 and daily practice.

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and 25.190 He defines office and priesthood in relation to administering the eucharist, for the sacrament of the eucharist is the most noble act of the Churc­h. The sacrament of (holy) order is the spiritual power in order to execute any act in the hierarchy of the Church. Consequently, orders should be distinguished to the varied structure of such acts in the Church.191 The eucharist is the basic sacrament (the ‘grounding sacrament’) of the seven sacraments. Likewise, the priesthood is as it were the basic office (the ‘grounding office’) of the seven offices: priest, deacon, sub-deacon, acolyte, lector, ‘verger’ or ‘ostiary’ (ostiarius), and exorcist.192 Tradition considered that Christ may be said to have sanctified the status of each of these orders.193 An early document setting forth this notion of Christ was the Apothegmata patrum, collected by Palladius and others in the fifth century: He who was the Lawgiver, became a reader and He took the book in the congregation, and He read, saying: The Spirit of God is upon Me; for this reason He hath anointed Me and hath sent Me to preach the gospel unto the poor. Like a servant (subdeacon) He made a whip of rope and He drove forth from the Temple all those who sold oxen and cattle and doves and other things. Like a servant (deacon) He girded a napkin about His loins and washed the feet of His disciples and He commanded them to wash the feet of their brethren. Like an elder (presbyter) He sat among

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See de Ghellinck, ‘Le traité de Pierre Lombard sur les sept ordres ecclésiastiques: ses sources, ses copistes,’ Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique 10 (1909) 290-302, 720-28, and 11 (1910) 29-46. Ordinatio IV 24, quaestio unica 12: ‘Sacramentum ordinis est potestas spiritualis ad aliquem actum exequendum in ecclesiastica hierarchia; et per consequens secundum ordinem diversitatis ad tales actus in ecclesia, essent ordines distinguendi.’ See Ordinatio IV 24.37: sacerdotium, diaconatus, and subdiaconatus. Cf. Ordinatio IV 24 quaestio unica 1.34-37, where the tasks of different orders are described. For early texts on the sanctification of the orders, see Wilmart, ‘Les ordres du Christ,’ Revue des sciences religieuses 3 (1923) 305-27.

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the elders and taught the people. Like a bishop He took bread and blessed it and brake and gave to His disciples.194 This approach developed through the centuries.195 Thomas Aquinas passed over in his Scrip­tum all that Peter Lombard had to say about the significance of the seven orders of Christ. He simply dismissed alternative views: ‘Sed hoc nihil est.’196 His own view is that there are seven orders, for all look to the eucharist: the priest, deacon, sub-deacon, acolyte, the doorkeeper (ostiarius, also spelled: hostiarius), showing the unworthy the door, the lector, instructing the catechumens, and the exorcist, dealing with the energumeni. Duns Scotus varies this theme: the three first degrees of the office (priest, deacon, and sub-deacon) are the ordines which immediately serve the eucharist; the last four degrees are sacramental in the sense that they indirectly serve and support the eucharist. Strictly spoken, the priesthood is not the sacrament, but the consecration to be priest. The suitable servant who can only administer this ordination, is the bishop. Abbots can also receive a special appointment in the case of other services. All these offices and services are categorically one. Moreover, Duns very carefully deals with issue of the punishments and fines according to canon law which concern the execution of what has to be done by the priests.197 Children cannot be ordained a priest. A sub-deacon has to be at least 20 years of age. John Duns was himself 25 when he was ordained a priest. A child can fulfilll the tasks of the minor clergy. Duns rejects the possibility that women are to be ordained, for Christ has not appointed his Mother to serve in an office, which is confirmed by the instruction of Genesis 3. However, he acknowledges that, in contrast with us, the Latini, the Greek Church may have known the figures of the presbyterissa and the abatissa. Eschatologically, the distinction between man and woman is irrelevant so that there seems to be a link with the fall. There is, however, no attempt to derive these aspects from necessary anthro­pology or necessary ethics.198 194

195 196 197 198

Wallis Budge (ed.), The Book of Paradise of Palladius, 783. On the early development of (five or seven) orders, see Crehan, ‘The Seven Orders of Christ,’ Theological Studies 19 (1958) 81-5. On the development from the fifth until the thirteenth century, see Crehan, ‘The Seven Orders of Christ,’ Theological Studies 19 (1958) 84-93. See Aquinas, Scriptum IV 24.2, articulus 1 sol. 2. See Ordinatio IV 25, quaestio 1. I frame the meanings of the terms ‘necessary anthropology’ and ‘necessary ethics’ analogously to the Scotian concept of ‘necessary theology’: each subject consists of necessary truths.

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385

Marriage

The huge cluster of distinctions about marriage (Ordinatio 26-42) deals with a sea of subjects which almost covers the whole of the medieval social and moral life. First, Du­ns offers a number of main theses:199 – The first thesis states that man and woman, husband and wife are connected with one another by an indissoluble bond in order to bring forth offspring. This obligation is a good one. – The second thesis implies that the bodies of man and woman are always mutually available. They belong to one another. – The third thesis makes explicit that marriage as a mutual gift was instituted and appro­ved by God. – The fourth thesis stresses that it is fitting that a sacrament is attached to this covenant of being a present for one another. – The fifth thesis says that several elements cohere in a marriage: the indissoluble bond, intercourse as performing the marriage, and the sacramental character.200 The act of procreation and nursing offspring is not in itself essentially good nor essenti­ally not good. However, we have to consider that, in general, mortality can only be coped with by multiplication and sexual reproduction. In this sense, the act of will to bring forth offspring a right one (actus recte circumstantionabilis). Duns Scotus investigates the possibilities of an ethical analysis. Such an ethical analysis depends on the space available for strict argumentati­on. The axiomatic point of departure is the insight that an act is sufficiently good, if it rests on loving God, as far as the agent and the object are concerned. To love God cannot be self-contradictory. The goodness of an act depends on a specific set of circumstances. The first ‘circumstance’ or to determine an act is its aim or end. The aim of procreation is religious education in order to broaden the worship of God. The end of human life is functioning completely as a human person and this perfect activity (perfecta operatio) is to serve and to worship God liturgically (cultus divinus). Procreation is not the final aim of our existence. It is certainly to be directed on the final aim and thus it can be performed rightly or wrongly. The crucial notion is circumstantionabilis: procreation is an act ‘circumstantionabilis

199 See Ordinatio IV 26, quaestio 2. Cf. Zeimentz, Ehe nach der Lehre der Frühscholastik. 200 See Ordinatio IV 26, quaestio 2.16-17.

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rectis circumstantiis.’ Something is wrong, if the object of the act of will is incompatible with what is good.201 The involved man and woman, husband and wife are no circumstantia. Marriage and performing marriage have to be the act of a certain and specific male and female individual. They are specific individuals and not general representatives of a male and a female. What matters is the connection of persons, and not a link of drives. It collides with the interests and the welfare of the child that the bond under consideration would be an erratic bond. The connection has not to be an erratic block which is not of any help for family or society. One has to focus on religious education within the family, and the friendship of the family is a strength which supports society. The point of departure and the deductive treatment are the strength of Scotus’ approach, but such an approach also elicits tensions. On the one hand, there are the facts of the history of sacramental marriage, and, on the other hand, the dynamics of Duns Scotus’ philosophy of marriage which can easily be extrapolated into modern terms, will-based as the whole appro­ach is. There is an enormous stress on the conscious decision to become one another’s wife and husband. In fact, Duns Scotus’ theology of marriage is supralapsarian, but sacraments are infralapsarian.202 Marriage and matrimony belong the phenomenology of culture, whereas the marriage of Sententiae IV is a sacrament. Duns Scotus does certainly not hold that only Christians can be married legally, but he does not discuss this unfortunate dilemma. His personal preferences are clear, as they are too in the cases of bigamy, polygamy and divorce, but dogma formation and Scriptural data require a profound historical treatment in order to make explicit how complicated the involved issues are. I only mention the issue of divorce.203 In fact, the modern notion of divorce causes that this term is a total mistranslation when we look at the Old and New Testaments texts, where our phenomenon of divorce is not discussed at all; what matters in the Bible, is casting off and disowning a wife. It is easy to see how serious this case is, for, in contrast to 201

See Ordinatio IV 26.3: ‘Nullus actus est sufficienter bonus moraliter, ex ratione agentis vel obiecti, nisi amare Deum, quod non potest esse contra rectam rationem, immo necessario est secundum rectam rationem, quod talis actus tendat in tale obiectum. Hoc autem est, quia obiectum est finis ultimus secundum se volendus et a quolibet ordinato ad finem illo modo quo potest finem amare.’ ‘Circumstantionabilis’ is the opposite of ex genere: An act is categorically good by loving God, or since it is to be derived from loving God. 202 See Ordinatio IV 26.18. 203 See Ordinatio IV 33, quaestio 1, and Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 64-72 (introduction) and 288-97 (Latin and English). On divorce, see Ordinatio IV 33, quaestio 3, and Wolter, op. cit., 72-3 (introduction) and 296-317 (Latin and English).

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German and Dutch, the English has not even an adequate word for casting off and repudiating a wife one-sidedly. The Christian ethos has changed so much our language that many biblical matters cannot be discussed directly – and the same applies at the Islam, but the modern intelligentia is eager to forget the intricacies of cultures, just as the biblicist Christians are. On the one hand, the problems of the theology of marriage mainly concern the fact that marriage is a personal act, and a sacrament at the same time, and, on the other hand, there are the biblical complications. However, there is still quite a different area of marriage issues to be dealt with: the factors that can obstruct a marriage. A cluster of distinctions discusses these impediments in Ordinatio IV 34-42: ‘de impedimentis matrimonii.’ The issues of this set of matrimony chapters throw much light on medieval social life, for instance, the question whether impotence or frigidity, or a sexual faux pas, prevents performing a marriage. We have seen that intercourse is a crucial element of the medieval definition of marriage, and the Latin noun ‘matri-monium’ itself indicates the focus on motherhood. Indeed, Duns argues that such factors are impediments in Ordinatio IV 34, and the comparison with a boy who is not allo­wed to marry, confirms the same point. According to Ordinatio IV 35, the marriage of David and Bathseba was not valid. Other aspects pop up in the cases of serfs and slaves. Persons subdued to serfdom or slavery are not personally guilty and their situation does not provide a reason why they are not allowed to marry.204 However, bishops and priests, deacons and sub-deacons are not allowed to marry, but this prohibition is simply anchored in positive canon law. Vows and pledges can also obstruct a marriage. The vow of celibacy and the pledge of chastity impede a marriage. Duns Scotus’ analyses of elements which can obstruct a marriage are clearly structured. The core always consists in the possible inconsistency which a certain factor elicits for performing a marriage, or only this marriage. Formal elements and what a marriage is to be actually can obstruct a marriage, but church life shows that factors which are not inherently linked with what a marriage is (natura talis contractus matrimonialis) can also prevent a marriage. Kinship, another bond of marriage, and other commitments can obviate a marriage, but also impotence, anxiety, compulsion or mistakes can do so, when persons are not permit­ted to perform a marriage or to perform this marriage. Several mistakes are possible: Is the other person truly a woman? Has she a practical civil status, and is the marriage a matter of free personal consent? Duns’ key question is always whether both parties are equal and able to give 204 On slavery, see DPhil § 12.6 (448).

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themselves to one another entirely. A person can only bind herself or himself by holy vows, and human persons who are willing to be bound by the bond of marriage can only do so in freedom. Concrete Scotian ethics is grounded in ontology and ontology is democratic. 8.10

Systematic Coherence

The Bible and history cause quite different kinds of issues in theological ethics and the theology of the sacraments and the ways they cause them differ from what is going in the doctrine of God, Christology and the theology of creation. Nevertheless, it is clear which intuitions Duns Scotus is attached to, even if he is not able to round off the systematic train of argumentation. However, we meet nowhere an arbitrary solution to stop the gap between the chain of arguments and the intuitively felt answer. There are no apodictic conclusions. Here, Duns Scotus is also the ideal teacher who shows us the space between scholarly theology and the practice of every day. There is no positivism to be discerned – neither on the level of the rule nor on the level of the exception. It is just the other way around: the rare exception which limits the rule is carefully argued for, and there is always the key role of the personal decision which cannot be overruled morally. In the sixteenth-century battle of Reformation and Counter-Reformation the doctrine of the eucharist or the Lord’s Supper was the central issue. In general, the sacraments were the storm center of theological controversy. On the side of the Reformation there was a wide spectrum of views running from strong realist positions to symbolic or even purely spiritualistic ones. Enormous attention was paid to the Lord’s Supper. On the side of the Counter-Reformation the transubstantiation approach became dominant. Being somewhere – at a certain place – is not intrinsically linked with a body.205 Moreover, if it be a contradiction, then Christ’s sacramental presence would be impossible, but we can only consistently state this implication in an explicit way, if the sacramental presence implies a local presence, whereas with respect to the other sacraments or the proclamation of the Word we do not claim this presupposition:

205

See Ordinatio IV 10. 122, also referring to Ordinatio III 8. The category ubi only expresses a ‘quendam respectum extrinsecus advenientem.’

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When I say that the same body can be in different places at the same time, I only express a certain relation of one quantity which is extrinsically added to another, founded on one quantity.206 The empiricist idea that the notions of place and body are inseparable rests on an empiricism which is objectionable in itself. The boun­daries of empirical imagination (imaginatio) are not identical with the boundaries of thinking and argumentation. When one leaves aside the monopoly of the empirical and sensible imagination, Duns Scotus suggests that places can be multiplied without the multiplication of a body. A body can have more presences than its first place, for instance, warmth, hunger, life, and institutional presences.207 In a sacramental way, the body of Christ which is in heaven, can be somewhere else, quantitatively and locally. A sensible sign truly contains (continet) the body of Christ which is present here, ‘post consecrationem vel conversionem et sub sacramento.’208 Therefore, Chris­t is in heaven suo modo naturali, but in the eucharist modo sacramentali.209 Here, the paradoxical twist is that there is local presence without any natural change. In Thomas Aquinas’ theology of the eucharist, there is natural change without local presence. Duns Scotus usually respected rules, but he tried always to exploit maximally the deductively argumentative space of a theological issue. In the doctrine of God, in fact, syste­matic theology gives almost way to systematic philosophy, since eventually it turns out to be that the Trinitarian conception of God is the only consistent one. In matters sacramental and ethical, the historical situation executes more influence on Scotus’ accounts. This is evident in the theology of the sacrament, where the entire span of life from birth to 206 Ordinatio IV 10. 122: ‘Cum enim dico, idem corpus simul esse localiter in diversis locis, nihil dico super hoc corpus nisi quendam respectum extrinsecus advenientem fundatum in uno quanto ad aliud quantum circumscribens.’ 207 These examples are not examples of bodily presence and the fact that empiricism is objectionnable in itself does not imply that the intrinsic connection between a body and its place is untenable. We may ask whether the implications of transubstantiation can also enlighten other dilemmas as is the case with respect to other dilemmas, for instance, creation, redemption, God’s knowledge and will, contingency and incarnation. 208 Ordinatio IV 10.194: ‘Dico [...] quod hic sit aliquod signum sensibile continens vere corpus Christi hic praesens, quod sensibile dicatur sacramentum, quod quidem verum est, scilicet corpus Christi de facto hic esse post consecrationem vel conversionem sub sacramento.’ 209 See Ordinatio IV 14, quaestio 1.8, referring to the Symbolum. God is ‘remissivus peccatorum.’

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death is covered by God’s care and grace to be expressed in his sacramental acts. During the last years of his life Scotus spent more and more attention to the issues of religious and social life.210 We can explain the classic Christian faith in an intuitive, untechnical way and this dimension is omnipresent in Duns Scotus’ theology, but there is also the reality of the fides quaerens intellectum. For Duns Scotus, this means that he is usually able to prove the crucial Christian points of view in terms of necessary truth. There are hardly exceptions to this rule. In a very few cases Dubs dubs does not entirely confide in his own answer, and in one case he is aware that he is prepared the issue of the nature of the personal relationships in a way different from Augustine’s solution (Ordinatio I 26. In term sof this field of orces his treatment of the transubstantation in the eucharist stands alone. Here, is the fides inveniens intellectum conspicuous by its absence. Duns Scotus clearly concludes that all the proposals brought forward in the past can be refuted and he also states that, theologically speaking, there is a preferable solution – without transubstantiation in the strict sense. Why does he pose the problem in such a strict way – for the first time in the history of the doctrine of transubstantiation, as James McCue has consistently pointed out? Paul Bakker and Marilyn McCord Adams leave aside the considerations and analyses of McCue and claim independent philosophical importance of Scotus’ contributions. According to Bakker Duns Scotus made original ontological contributions in the area of the theology of the eucharist and McCord Adams claims that this theological datum provoked Duns to make significant revisions in Aristotelian philosophy and that his philosophical modifications were nor ad hoc solutions. Sufficit in generali Deo possibile quod quidlibet est tenendum Deo possibile quod nec est ex terminis manifestum impossibile nec ex eo impossibilitas vel contradictio concluditur evidenter; sic est in isto. Whatever is not clearly impossible in virtue of the terms and an impossibility or a contradiction is not evidently derived from that, has to be considered as possible for God. Just this applies here.

210

Compare DPhil chapter 16.

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Henry of Ghent: If this body that is at place1, also can be at place2 in virtue of God’s infinite possibilities, then it also can be at place3 in virtue of God’s infinite possibilities. If so, it can be at an infinite number of places: If God is the agent, the same body is everywhere.211 211

Ordinatio IV 10.81: ‘[…] quod Deo agente idem corpus sit ubique.’

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Chapter 9

Theology in a New Key: Extrapolations and Perspectives 9.1

Introduction

The scientific revolution did not only improve upon the methods and methodology of science, but it also revolutionized understanding nature. The historical revolution did not only change the rules of doing historiography, but it also revolutionized understan­ding history. There was no history before the historical revolution; there were only time, the past and eternity. There were only stories to be told; in the historical field, broadly speaking, there were only story telling and narrative thought (historia). The historical revolution made it possible to explore the past in a rational and methodical way, but, during the century of history – the nineteenth century – it was mainly done in such a primitive and biased way that, in spite of the historical revolution and the birth of the science of history, the past was still explored in an a-his­torical manner. The historical revolution created a chasm between the liberals and the conserva­tives. Among the liberals there were the historical critics, but many ‘historical critics’ did not try to discover and develop purely historical research. They assumed that they understood history and, understanding history in their way, they frankly disagreed with the past, they judged the past (krinoo, kritès) and condemned the past. Because they were certain of the superiority of their own stance, they created a gulf between the old way of seeing things and their new critical way of thought and this paradigmatic change gave rise to ‘modern philosophy’ and ‘modern theology.’ Originally, the conservatives simply defended the old way of seeing things presupposing that their ideas coincided with the views of Scrip­ture and tradition. The liberals did see a problem, but it was not the problem of doing history in a methodical way. In condem­ning the past, they agreed with the conservatives that the past was clear. They did not realize that the historical revolution entails that we firstly have to discover that we are not familiar with the past. Because we discover that we do not know the past, we are going on trying to discover the past. So, it is to be inferred that eventually the historical revolution did not create one problem. It also created a problem on its own. The first discovery consists of seeing that the past is strange and unknown to us. When we have grown old ourselves, we realize that we have not under-

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004360235_010

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stood our grandparents, but now it is late to interview them. We do not know the past directly, because it strangely differs from our present. Doing history is like looking at monkeys. The second problem consists of the difficulty that we have to be trained in historical method and thinking in a historical way, but, in overcoming the a-historical way of looking at persons, ideas and thing­s, we build a barrier between ourselves and our neighbors in the past, being not familiar with our way of looking at historical reality. We are estranging ourselves from our forbears. So we have to study medieval thought in a historical way, while the medieval thinkers did not do so. The expressions: ‘Scriptura dicit,’ ‘Augustinus dicit’ and ‘Aristoteles dicit’ had meanings much different from what they mean to us. Il n’est pas nécessaire d’être spécialiste de l’histoire de la philosophie médiévale pour bien savoir que quelle que soit la dette des auteurs médiévaux envers des sources antiques, et quelque fût le respect qu’ils ont ressenti envers toute autorité – les sources ne les ont cependant empêchés de suivre leur propre voie au fur et à mesure que cela s’imposait dans l’intérêt de leur réflexions philosop­hiques.1 We only discover many creative and original contributions by medieval thought, when we focus on the dynamics of theologians and philosophers over the centuries, interpreting their texts from their own ways of thinking.2 No student of medieval speculative thought can help being struck by the peculiar fact that whenever fundamental progress was made, it was theological problems which initiated the development. This applies to St Augustine and Boethius, and to the great medieval masters as well (such as Anselm, Thomas Aquinas, Duns Scotus). Their speculation was, time and again, focused on how the notion of being and the whole range of our linguistic tools can be applied to God’s Nature (Being).3 1 L.M. de Rijk, ‘Un tournant important dans l’usage du mot idea chez Henri de Gand,’ in Idea, 89. 2 See DPhil chapters 14-16. 3 De Rijk, ‘On Boethius’s notion of being. A chapter of Boethian semantics,’ in Kretzman­n (ed.), Meaning and Inference in Medieval Philosophy, 1. Of great importance is De Rijk, Middeleeuwse wijsbegeerte (11977, 21981). It was translated into French: La philosophie au moyen âge. It summarizes much splendid teaching of De Rijk (1924-2012) on medieval thought that is not to be found in English. De Rijk, trained in classical philology and ancient philosophy, is very sensitive to the elements of medieval thought that have no counterpart in ancient philosophy.

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This point of view is also argued for in remarkable ways by John Marenbon. A parallel observation was already made by Steven Marrone: In fact the thirteenth century witnessed a major transformation in the form of scholarly thought.4 In terms of Duns Scotus’ theology and philosophy we first tackle the concept of God (§ 9.2),5 and then the concept of Incarnation (§ 9.3). We are also interested in the perspectives of the Christian theology of creation and the theory of redemption and salvation. 9.2

The Doctrine of God Triune

It may be clear that Trinitarian propositions are considered to be modally necessary: they are necessarily true. In fact, Duns Scotus is also convinced that they are provable, and that they are even demonstrable. On the basis of Duns Scotus’ reconstruction of the doctrine of the Trinity there is still more to be said, both in terms of the nature of God and in terms of the nature of reality. God is the best possible person and if God is the best possible person, then He is the best possible agent. Moreover, best possible agency requires the best possible knowledge and the best possible will. The structure of best possible agency, including best possible knowledge and best possible will, can be derived from the ontological structure of reality. The open concept of reality is wedded to an open concept of God. The development of the Christian doctrine of God was the historical source of an alternative approach to reality: contingency ontology arose and its provisional culmina­tion point was the position of Duns Scotus. In our search for some extrapolations of Duns Scotus’ theory of Trinitarian properties we opt for the other way around. We start with ontology and return to the doctrine of the Trinity. The whole of reality is contingent and it is necessary that reality is contingent. So, the contingency of reality cannot be eliminated, although most philosophical and most modern theological currents ignore this truth. However, if it necessary that reality is contingent, then it is impossible that it is necessary and if it is impossible that it is necessary, then it is impossible that God’s nature, his knowledge, his will and his agency coincide. If it is imposible that God’s 4 Marrone, William of Auvergne and Robert Grosseteste, 9. 5 Compare Owen, The concept of God.

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nature and the whole of his knowledge coincide, then it is impossible that the whole of his knowledge flows from his nature and self-knowledge. We need a new constitutive moment in the life of God, which is entailed by God being God so that the second constitutive moment in God is not identical with the first constitutive moment. What is at stake is the relation of the two constitutive aspects of divine subjectivity or God being a subject. We have concluded that God in two Persons possesses omniscient necessary knowledge and omniscient contingent knowledge, but we have still not made clear how God can possess omniscient contingent knowledge. There is contingent reality; so, there must be contingent knowledge, but knowledge does not constitute contingency, it only receives and reports it. First, contingency is not constituted – there is just contingency and there is just contingent reality. Second, precisely because there is contingency, contingency itself does not constitute factuality, we need a personal property making the difference between what is actual and factual, and what is not: p and it is possible that not-p, and whether p or not-p is to be decided by the will. Which possible world is to be the actual world Actua, is to be decided by God’s will and God’s knowledge of Actua rests on his will. Now, we return to John Duns’ trinitarian language. A decisive part of his trinitarian terminology is the distinction between the trinitarian processions (processiones): Its number cannot be reduced to one: nature and will do not have the same way of being-a-principle, because they are opposites of one another according to their formal aspects. If they were reduced to the structure of one principle, that principle would either be identified as this principle, or not, and so as the other; and – whether it be this way or the other way around – it would either be a principle as nature is, or as the will is. Therefore, the whole multipli­city is reduced only to two first productive principles. Therefore, there are only two first principles of production.6

6 Lectura I 2.202: ‘Principia activa et productiva habent multitudi­nem et diversitatem; igitur tota illa multitudo et diversitas reducetur vel ad unitatem vel ad tam modicam multitudinem quantum possibile est. Sed ad unitatem non potest reduci, quia natura et voluntas non habent eundem modum principiandi, quia secundum suas rationes formales sunt opposita. Si enim reducerentur ad rationem unius principii, illud principium aut determinare­tur ad unum aut non, et – sive sic sive sic – vel esset principium ut natura vel ut voluntas. Igitur reducitur tota multitudo ad duo prima principia productiva tantum; ergo tantum sunt duo principia productiva prima.’ Cf. Ordinatio I 2.300-303.

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The decisive dilemma concerning the philosophical challenge posed by the doctrine of God Triune is the dilemma of a closed or an open concept of God. The closed – monotheistic – concept of God ignores the distinction between divine nature and Person and if the distinction between divine nature and Person is ignored, then we get simple equivalences between God’s nature and his knowledge and, therefore, between his nature, knowledge, will and agency coincide. This pattern of strict equivalences means that God only possesses necessary knowled­ge, necessary willing and necessary agency. The closed concept of God has ontological consequences, for it entails an ontology of only one possible world: only one possible God or godhead and only one possible world. The other monotheisms subscribe to God that everything is necessary. If it is not true that everything is necessary, then more subject dimensions must be spread in the one absolute subject God is. The first epistemic moment of knowing everything that is possible, cannot be identical with the second epistemic moment of knowing the factual world Actua. The relation of the two moments in God requires the constitution of all encompassing divine knowledge. The first subject moment of the first person is to be understood as the knowing subject which knows everything possible and the first processio is then to be understood in terms of knowing (secundum intellectum). This essential constitution of the possibility of all encompassing divine knowledge requires a second epistemic subject, for if the first epistemic subject is the only subject who matters, then there is only necessary knowledge possible and this is impossible. So, there must be a second epistemic subject. Trinitarian language calls this epistemic subject the second Person of the Trinity: the Logos, the Word, the Son, in possession of truly omniscient knowledge. God’s will is related to epistemic reality, since God accepts and wills his own knowledge. He accepts and wills his own act of knowledge, for if he does not will contingently a contingent act of knowing, then that act of knowledge cannot be contingent,7 but a known contingent object can only be contingent according to the model of willing. Duns spells out the procession of the Holy Spirit by drawing on the role of the will in the life of a person. The duality of knowledge (secundum intellectum) and will (secundum voluntatem) is what matters in order to articulate what persons are. There are knowledge and will in God and there are no other principles of personal activity, if the agent is a best possible agent. These basic personal activities are not mental metaphors, and they are not based on anthropologi­ cal analogies, for they are essential to being a person. Such an approach has nothing to do with comparisons to subjectivity or a psychology of the divine 7 This specification of Scotus’ line of argument utilizes the modern notion of contingency.

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character, but everything with ontology and logic. There are two processions, for there can only be two processions. Therefore, there can only be three persons. There can only be two processions, since for God there are only two constitutive characteristics of personhood, namely knowing and willing. Contingent reality has to be followed, when we know it, or to be constituted, when we will that it is so and so. The two basic constituents of knowledge and will are the only constitutive characteristics of divine personhood (simpliciter perfectiones), because God does not need any additional faculties of action.8 Scotus has a Trinitarian outlook in his theology of creation. In contrast with Thomas Aquinas’ theology of creation where the parallelism of the eternal processions in God which are necessary acts, imply the necessity of the act of creation, if creation takes place, we have to look at the crucial foundation of Duns Scotus’ theology of creation: to create is contingent and this contingent activity entails that God is Triune. The fact that the philosophies of Aristotle and Avicenna are incompatible with Christian theology and the Christian concept of God in particular, was not daunting for Duns Scotus. Nevertheless, Duns took it very seriously. Theology is unable to cure the incompa­tibilities of the modern designs without resourcing on medieval contributions. My proposal is to take Scotus’ contribution as the starting point for a new beginning. The way history goes, teaches us that what is good, is discovered in a special way. It is good for everyone, for God is good and He is the common good in excelsis. 9.3

God Incarnate: Light from Light, God from God

The Church entered the ancient world with her undiluted monotheism and for this reason the Christians were called atheis­ts (atheoi), but it also clear that only One can be idolized in the Church: Jesus Christ the Lord. Philosophical rationality can shrug its shoulders about incarnation as the limit of irrationality and the monotheism of Judaism and Islam agrees with this verdict. However, a fact has to be reminded of. The monotheism of the Church was already difficult to stomach, but if strict monotheism has to be combined with the divinity of Jesus Chris­t, one may sense that too many obstacles arise.9 Is it not advisable to be satisfied with the attraction of the Jesus figure? The surprising fact is that the Church did not choose the line of the least resistance, for she did not 8 See DPhil chapter 13. Compare DPhil §§ 16.3-16.5. 9 See Macquarrie, Jesus Christ in Modern Thought, 3-8 and 175-80, and compare Berkhof, Christian Faith, 267-80.

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sacrifice the confession of My Lord and my God and neither locked herself up in the prison of irrationality. She sang and prayed, but she did not forget to think and did not flee from philosophical criticism. She combined faith and reason. Rational sophisticatedness created the phenomenon of orthodxy within the Church and orthodoxy created a philosophical style on its own. We pick mature fruits in the Christological and Trinitarian dogmas of the councils of Con­ stantinople I (381) and Chalcedon (451). The liturgy tames reason, but only in the mode of the new thinking of Greek patristic theology. Latin theology in the West adopted the patristic heritage and the journey from Anselm to the young Duns is long and fascinating. Eventually, we have to bridge the breathtaking development of theology between the conciliary statements of Chal­cedon (451) and the third council of Constantinople (680-681), on the one hand, and the reformational reflections on the communicatio idiomatum in Lutheran and Reformed theology of the seventeenth century, on the other hand, Scotus being in between. 9.3.1 Jesus Christ Twentieth-century theology paid articulate attention to the theme of Christian faith and history. Theologians like Barth and Tillich, Gogarten and Wendland, Dodd and Reinhold Niebuhr defended in their own ways that the essential content of Chris­tology is Christ as the center of history. More specifically, H.G. Wood sees Christ as a turning-point in history in a more empirical sense. When we turn to the development of Christology, we observe a complicated story unparalleled in the history of thought. Two aspects of the whole of this development are striking. First, the new theological moves are excluded by the conceptual patterns of Greek and Hellenistic philosophy, although they are partially made with the help of terms which also enjoy prominence in philosophy. Second, on the whole, these explorations show genuine continuity until the end of the eighteen­th century. However, much modern theology tries to escape from traditional problems of Christology by replacing a theology of incarnation by a symbolical philosophy of history.10 The complicated history of incarnation, nature and person, and so on, is banished to the province of barren logomachy. Although Schleiermacher launched a distinct Christology – being even a kind of high Christology within the boundaries of his own conceptual framework –, he clearly rejected the conciliar terminology. The doctrine of Christ’s two natures is held to be inconsistent, since it is impossible for any individual 10

See Donald Ballie, God was in Christ, chapter 3: ‘Why a Christology?’

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to enjoy two natures. Such modern criticisms presuppose a one nature ontology. In one nature metaphysics, forms or universals are the driving and thriving forces of reality. Reality itself is the field of tension between true being and some non-being: true reality and potentiality, form and matter, whether true reality be immanent or transcendent. The alternative two natures ontology does not only explode unitarian metaphysics, but also its necessitarian foundation. Christological basics are incompati­ble with the ancient view that reality is necessary and that the individual is an accident. The revolutionary christological moves are in need of new theories of contingency and individuality. This is precisely what the AA-line provides for and Duns Scotus’ contributions are simply the provisional culmination point of this main line of Western thought. Of course, we have also to stress that historical lines are no straight lines. Continuity is interwoven with discontinuities, but impressive growth of theological knowledge can be discerned from the tenth and eleventh centuries to De Moor’s massive volumes at the end of the eighteenth century.11 The alternative philosophical views of contingency and individuality are necessary conditions for a new tradition-based Christology. If we only possess a negative theory of individuals, we may still assert that God is individual and that God incarnate is individual too, but in spite of our good intentions what we defend cannot be true. Especially in the history of Christology the term individual is often used in reckless ways. Our next question asks whether new strict notions of contingency and individuality are sufficient conditions. When the Council of Chalcedon confesses the faith in the human nature of Christ, his human nature must be accounted for as a common nature. If we grant this, we do not do so, because we have to believe that the Fathers of Chalcedon subscribed to Aristotelian metaphysics, but simply because there was no articulate alternative. Ancient thought does not know the philosophical notion of essential individuality, although some perspectives seem to invite for such future developments. Even the Fathers cannot have meant what still would take centuries to be discovered. Let us apply, then, the device of the conciliar two natures dogma to the distinction between common nature (human nature) and individual nature or essence (divinity). Then, God’s identity is intimately linked with enjoying human existence, but only human existence in a general, and not in an individual, sense. If this is true, Jesus Christ’s earthly reality would not have shown up traces of human individuality. The New Testament evidence does 11

In fact DPhil and The Theology of John Duns Scotus try to contribute to restoring continuity.

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not support this consequence. What are the internal consequences of this ontological hypothesis? Since there is no human individuality to be discerned between God in his quality as the individual bearer of humanity, God (the Son) himself is the immediate subject of Christ’s humanity. Therefore, we have to conclude that there is only one activity on God’s part, executed by one divine knowledge and only one divine will (monergism, monothetelism, monoscientism). This reminds us of the Christological debates during the sixth and seventh centuries and the decisions of the Constantinople Councils II and III. Unwittingly, our hypothesis leads us to the monophysitic option. Great theologians, like Cyril, Thomas Aquinas and Karl Barth, have favored this type of view, but, according to this pattern, the denial of only human subjectivity forces us to accept that there is only divine subjectivity. The two natures approach, however, suggests that there is space for a via media. It is still crucial to see that the distinction between human individuality and human individual has to be observed. If human individuality is taken to entail that there must also be a human individual, then there is no chance for classic Christology to survive. Even careful Christologists may jump to conclusions here. Half a century ago, Donald Baillie penned down a swift argumentation: The Christian doctrine of the Incarnation does not mean that Jesus was not a man but a God. The New Testament writers knew very well that He was a man, and spoke of Him quite unequivocally as such; and few theologians now would make the distinction of saying that He is rather ‘Man’ than ‘a man,’ though that distinction has sometimes been made in the past.12 When we accept Baillie’s absolute vantage point, then we have also to explain why and how that vantage point deserves to be considered to be absolute. Saying that according to the New Testament Jesus Christ is simply a human being comes to something like saying that looking at the sun proves that the 12

Baillie, God was in Christ, 80. See § 3.4 (79-84): ‘The Problem of Christology.’ Baillie wholeheartedly embraced the view of Christ’s incarnation: ‘[...] Our rediscovery of the fact that Christology should be understood as telling us not merely what Jeus is but what God is, because only in Christ is God made plain to us. Similarly in regard to history, which thought was a plain tale without any intrinsic mystery (...), we are now being taught the lesson that we do not know what history is, or how to interpret it, until we get an absolute point of vantage from which to view it, and that the very meaning of Christology is to show us that this point of vantage is to be found in Christ’ (73). This is finely tuned, but this paradoxical message cannot conceal that it is difficult to understand – in order to use Bailliean phraseology – how a mysterious man can be a He.

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sun moves around the earth, and not the other way around. Of course, the solution does not lie in stating that Jesus Christ embodies Man. Here, the difference between patristic thought and the twelfth- and thirteenth-century theologians shines out: they concentrate on Christ’s individual human nature.13 We see the watershed to be crossed by new research, when we compare this approach with the first great Christology from below which is Baillie’s: Christology stand for a Christian interpretation of history, but it can stand for that only because it stands for the conviction that God became man in the historical person of Jesus.14 In chapter 4: Critique of Christologies, Baillie wavers between talk of person and of personality (divine Personality assuming human nature). We also see confusion often besetting modern Christology at work when it is said: Christ is [...] a divine Person who assumed human nature without assuming human personality.15 However, here, the formidable career of the term ‘person’ (per­sona) lurks at the background and we cannot simply solve our dilemmas by slipping quietly to the modern use of ‘person,’ the upshot of a development over centuries and centuries. Such a naive appeal is contrary to New Testament evidence and contrary to ancient common sense and ancient philosophy. Without Christology and Trinitarian theology we would still live in the dark bush bush of simplistic notions of nature, person and substance. We observed that a necessitarian conceptual framework entails that individuals only share in one nature – their own irreplaceable nature. A form entails the existen­ce of an individual: the form humanity entails the existence of a man, a human person. However, Aristotelianism is not dead, if it is mingled with a strict sense of revelation: While ‘God’ is not a common noun but a proper name, the word ‘man’ is simply and purely a common noun; so that, while to speak of Jesus as ‘a 13 14 15

See Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, passim. Cross’s contribution is not the last word, but still a necessary condition for elevating Christology to new standards. Baillie, God was in Christ, 79. Baillie offers a special interpretation of his own: attention to be paid to? Baillie, God was in Christ, 85. The phrase ‘the impersonal humanity of Christ’ is confu­sing, mingling traditional usage with negative modern overtones.

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God’ is nonsense from a Chris­tian point of view, it is equally nonsense to say that He is ‘Man’ unless we mean that He is a man.16 So, if one nature metaphysics is not only unfounded, but simply wrong, the crucial blockade of two natures theology is abolished. On the next stage, the issue has to be resumed by asking whether this victory is not a pyrrhic victory. The starting point is the assumption that classic Christology does not embody an impossible exception, but that it opens a new ontological channel for everything: everything has two natures, since everything enjoys its own individual essence and its common nature. However, the critic’s rebound will be that this contingency perspective does not imply that we can arbitrarily mix individual essences and common natures. My ego cannot be attached to being a lovely ladybird. The common nature of ladybirdity only makes sense, if there are ladybirds in some possible worlds. The revolution of the philosophy of the individual is necessary to relieve Christology, but perhaps it is not sufficient for doing so. One might even object that, on the contrary, the philosophia christiana indirectly makes it more difficult to interpret the two natures doctrine in a Christological manner. If there is a common nature n, then n is the common nature of a, but if there is a, then there is also the individual essence i of a and the individual essence i of a blocks a possible union with the individual identity of God: God cannot be identical with Joshuah, just as Joshuah cannot be identical with John. Our philosophical progress does not seem of any help in regard to the conciliar two natures doctrine. Although our victory seems to be a pyrrhic victory, we have still gained something: the openness of ontology. We have both individuality and contingency. We have also seen that the twelfth- and thirteenth-century theologians focused on the status of Christ’s human individuality, and not on his common nature. The opposition is not impressed, because it holds that human individuality entails human personhood, but does it do so? At any rate, this last entailment would hold, if humans are the only kind of persons. However, it does not do so – not because our respectable medievals believed in the existence of humans, angels and God, but because we have concluded that it is philosophically respectable to reckon with God and if we have to reckon with God, we have to reckon with what He can do. Now, ontologically, individuality does not entail humanity. The conquest of the new sense of being an individual has certainly led to an uncritical identification of individuals with human persons, but the philosophical notion of 16

Baillie, God was in Christ, 87.

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individuality is a transcendent notion.17 It can be applied to anything. If it is applied to personhood, we do not know a priori which kind of person or which person we shall meet. This means that humanity and personhood are not equivalent and this means that human individu­ality does not boil down to individual personhood. 9.3.2 Analysis and Synthesis The relations between the concepts of human nature H and personhood (personalitas) P are to be discussed. If in anthropology personhood (personalitas) entails that the conjunction of H and not-P: (1) a possesses human nature H and personhood P so that P does not correspond with nature H, contains a contradiction, then human nature H necessarily includes personhood P of the same common nature. Duns Scotus is aware that the Christological paradise is sealed off, if the strict entailment (2) H → Ph is irrefutable. If Christology is possible, then human nature can be united with personhood of another dimension. Christology has only its play, if human nature is not closed in and personhood does not only concern human persons. It is necessary that personhood (personalitas) can also join another personal dimension. If the concept of human nature does not transcend anthropology, Christology has no right to exist. Then, there is no area to be investigated between the doctrine of God and anthropology. The crucial question is whether the implication Ha → Hm offers a strict entailment.18 Duns acknowledges ontological space between human individuality and personhood as such: It is so that this (human) nature can keep its own individuality (singularitas), if no own personhood (personalitas) is involved – it comes under the personhood of another person (Lectura III 1.35).19 His plain comment in Lectura III 1.44 reads: 17 18 19

On transcendent terms, see DPhil § 7.9. If the implication: Ma → Mm represents a strict entailment, then the conjunction Ma & -Mm is a contradiction. Lectura III 1.35.

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By saying that (in anthropology) personhood (personalitas) expresses a positive ontological element which exceeds individuality (singularitas) so that a divine Person cannot partake in that (human) nature, one ascribes too much to creati­on. An item of creation is made absolute by such definitions. A nature n is only incommu­nicable, if only n’s can enjoy that nature n, but if so, formal inconsistency must be proved. If nature H and divine personhood are incompatible, the communicability of both natures is necessarily false, not contingently untrue.20 Lectura III 1.46 formulates the alternative: A nature is personified in me – beyond the structure of individuality: it does not depend on something else by a kind of dependence mentioned before, as far as its acts and dispositions are concerned. If the individual nature in me is personi­fied by divine personhood, this does not constitute any inconsistency. The fact that it has no internal dependence on the person-hood of another person, goes hand in hand with obediential potentiality which is open potentiality, related to divine personhood. Open and obediential potentiality is compatible with the denial of actual and internal dependence so that it is personified by the person­hood of an other person, although it is as such not apt for it.21 How do we have to assess the alleged contradiction Ha & -Hm within the field of forces of the theory of individuality? Thomas Aquinas rejects the implication Ha → Hm. If so, the hypostatic union with the Word is impossible. There is only one esse in Jesus Christ: the esse of the Word. According to this viewpoint, individuality and personhood coincide. One cannot get human individuality without human personhood and although divine personhood does not exclude being human, it excludes human individuality. The storm center of Christology is defined by two philosophical forces which make incarnation impossible. The first force has its roots in Greek 20 21

For Duns Scotus’ theory of negation, see Lectura III 1.45. Consult also DPhil § 4.8: ‘Negation.’ Lectura III 1.46: ‘Natura in me est personata, quia – ultra naturam singularitatis – nec dependet actualiter nec aptitudinaliter ad aliud dictâ dependentiâ. Nec tamen ex hoc ponitur repugnan­tia, si natura singularis in me personetur personalitate divina, quia cum hoc quod non habet dependen­tiam aptitudinalem ad aliam personalitatem, est in potentia obedientiali quae est potentia neutra, ad personalitatem divinam. Unde cum negatione dependentiae actualis et aptitudinalis stat potentia neutra et obedientialis ut personetur personalitate alia, licet ad eam non habeat aptitudinem naturalem.’

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philosophy: there is no true individuality at all. Let us sketch this field of forces with the help of a few main thoughts. According to archaic and old-Semitic thinking and ancient philosophy, an individual is something negative; it is disputable and disreputable, contaminated and even dirty. A principle of individuation (principium individuationis) is needed, for only universals and essences are reputable. As far as reality is the real thing, it is not so on the level of individuals, matter, potentiality, but on the level of act, form and essences. Individuals are not something in themselves; they need a principle to be constituted by to be saved: the principium individuationis. We meet this in the potentiality of unpleasant matter: a human individual is parasytic on universal being human, but being human does not entail essential human individuality, since there is no essential individuality: there are only human accidents and incidents. So, according to ancient philosohy, it is simply impossible that there are two natures, and if it is impossible that there are two kinds of natures – universal natures, for instance, the human nature, and individual natures, for instance, God’s nature –, then there are no two natures to be united. This stumble block is removed by the introduction of a new theory of individuality: in addition to common natures there is essential individuality. The doctrine of two natures is not a wooden iron. It is simple as good morning: everything has two natures. Faith is the key to common sense. So, there are two natures in Jesus Christ. The possibility of incarnation presupposes the trinitarian nature of God’s identity as well as the contingency of reality. The interplay of essential and accidental moments asks for a new way of thinking, specifically represented in Duns Scotus’ thought withdrawing God’s saving activity in atonement and redemption from necessitarian conceptualizations. The Anselmian perspective can consistently extrapo­lated with the help of the ontology of possible worlds and it can be deepened by giving feedback to biblical theology.22 The dimensions of essential structures and essential properties have to receive methodological priority. This way leads to Duns Scotus’ supralapsarian Christology.23 A last kernel of theological complications is caused by the the introduction of historical theology – both in the area of biblical theology and in the area of the history of systematic theology itself. Medieval theology is not aware of any historical dimensi­on of the reality of our past – as most modern academics who are not historians are neither. Some knowledge of the past is not as such 22 23

See Vos, Het is de Heer!, passim and especially op. cit., 155-8. Compare Veldhuis, Ein versiegeltes Buch, Berlin 1994, 335-40.

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historical knowledge. From the medieval and early modern point of view – in general: before the historical revolution in the nineteenth century – the past was clear, bright and lucid, just as the mind was for Descartes and Locke, because it was considered to be similar to the present. However, the past is a mystery and a secret. We do not know their inhabitants. They are not our contemporaries. To become acquainted with them is a fascinating process maturing by piles of new discoveries. We are discovering a new world – our own history. Within our context, there arise new questions to be addressed at Anselm and Scotus. The continuity of the historical development has to be cherished.24 Neglecting the area of conceptual structures leads many interpretations astray. Coherent research which uncovers the modal structures of the many positions involved can revise – and even revolutionize – our picture of the course of Western thinking. 9.4

Creation and Anthropology

The Old Testament offers exciting testimonies about the God of Israel being the Creator of the world, but how special is this testimony? Many authors dealing with ancient religion tell us about creation myths and they distinguish between several kinds of ‘creation myths.’ We can ask whether Greek philosophy can accept that the world has been created. Christian Aristotelians claim that creation is contingent and has a beginning in time, but they also state that theology cannot demonstrate this, because there is the possibility of an eternal creation. This approach rests on Aristotelian cosmology, but Aristotelian cosmology an dontology, just like Presocratic, Platonist, Stoic and Neoplatonist metaphysics imply that the world is eternal and necessary. However, if reality is necessary, it cannot be created, and if reality cannot be created, there cannot be a Creator. If there cannot be a Creator, it is impossible that God exists, for if God exists, he is the Creator. Christian Aristotelians claim that creation is contingent and has a beginning in time, but they also state that theology cannot demonstrate this. Also in this field the contingent is excluded. Systematic theology often deals with the theme of creation stories in ambiguous ways. For instance, Hefner’s theology of creation uitilizes Long’s Alpha. The myths of creation.25 Long distinguishes five groups of creation myths: emergence myths, world parents myths, chaos myths, including myths about the cosmic egg, diver myths and the idea of the 24 25

See KN 45-7, and DPhil § 14.8. Cf. DPhil § 14.9 and § 15.6. Charles H. Long, Alpha. The myths of creation, New York 1963.

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creatio ex nihilo. What surprises in this approach is that according to Long the idea of the creatio ex nihilo belongs to the different categories of creation myths. Hefner follows Long. Long places the following myths in the creatio ex nihilo group: the myth of Genesis, the Egyptian mythology, Hesiod, the Rig Veda, the Australian myth of the Great Father, the old Maya myth of the Popol Vuh and Polynesian myths: the Tuamotuas and the Maori’s. These stories have not influenced each other. Nevertheless, also Hefner concludes that there is a universal heritage of creation myths and because Long and Hefner accept his creatio ex nihilo group, ‘the Hebrew/Christian primal myth of creation’must be placed within this context. The notion of the creatio ex nihilo has four fundamental convictions: First of all, the Creator deity is all-powerful. He does not share his power with any other deity or structure of reality. Secondly, [...] the deity exists by himself, alone, in a void, or space. There is no material or reality prior to him in time or power. [...] thirdly, the mode of creation is conscious, ordered, and deliberate; it reveals a plan of action. Finally, the Creator is free since he is not bound by the inertia of a prior reality.26 This view sounds remarkably Christian, but it is not applicable to the myths of het ‘creation’ group. The group does not exist and the Genesis story is no myth. It is neither theology. It would also be strange that where as Greek religion and Greek philosophpy exclude the idea of a Creator God, other polytheisms would subscribe to this belief. Long himself acknowledges that cosmogonic myths are not homogeneous. So, such a classification is not exclusive. Hefner ignores this aspect. Several symbolic typological forms may be present in one myth. For example, in the Visnu Purâna, the creation myth shows how Visnu evolves from the primordial reality of prakrti; how Visnu as a boar dives into the waters to bring up earth for the creation (earthdiver); how the creation is produced from austerities and meditation; how creation results from the churning of the primordial ocean. There is in addition the symbolism of the cosmic egg as a meaning of the creation. The classification of myths into these types is thus meant not to be a stricture of limitations but rather to emphasize a dominant motif in the myth.27 26 27

Long, Alpha, 149, quoted by Philip J. Hefner, ‘Fourth locus: The creation,’ in Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson (eds.), Christian Dogmatics I-II, Philadelphia 11984 (21986), 278. Ch. H. Long, ‘Cosmogony,’ ER IV 94 (94-100).

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Kees Bolle stresses the same point.28 When we refute the view that everything is necessary, we can derive the main tenets of the Christian faith from the contingency of reality, but can we refute this necessitarian view?29 We already have complicated refutations, but now I wish to present a simpler version. In addition to the concept of God, the crucial notion is that of the denial: not. In fact, theology is an extended theory of negation, but if necessitarianism were to be right, not would be equivalent with impossible: if something is not the case, it is impossible, but is this true? My daughter is not blond, but is it impossible that she were so? My son – her eldest brother – is blond. So, it is patently false that her not being blond is an impossibility. You do not study the language of the Frisians: Frisian, but an alternative study is no impossibility. 9.5

Ethics: Ethics of Existence and Love

In ethics there is the option between utilitarian and deontological ethics. Christian ethics can take the one track or the other, but many Christian ethicists opt for a divine command ethics. Duns Scotus’ ethics is neither utilitarian, nor deontological, nor a divine command ethics. His ethics is a kind of ethics we may expect from a Christian thinker, althouhg it is rarely practiced. Scotus’ ethics is a love ethics. Moreover, in his thought ethics is wedded to the doctrine of God and the doctrine of God, anthropology and ethics are intimately connected, whereas his anthropology is also intimately linked with the doctrine of God and Christology. The basics of Duns Scotus’ theology and philosophy consist of the view that reality is contingent and his concept of God. If reality is truly contingent, there must be a Creator. If the Creator exists, God exists and if if there is a God, then he is the best possible person, but do we love the best possible person? Human persons are often lazy, dull, or wrong. So, if a loves God, it is a contingent fact, but not everything in ethics is contingent, for everyone ought to love God and that is a necessary truth. In general, Scotus’ theology is built on the distinction between necessary theology and contingent theology:

28 29

See Kees W. Bolle, ‘Cosmology,’ ER (1987) IV 103 (100-7). See KN chapters 8 and 9, and The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus, chapter 16. Compare Alvin Plantinga, God and Other Minds, Ithaca 1967, part 3, and idem, The Nature of Necessity, Oxford 1974, chapter 10. See Plantinga’s autobiography ‘Self-Profile,’ in James E. Tomberlin and Peter van Imwagen (eds.), Alvin Plantinga, Dort 1985, 1-97.

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Not only knowledge of necessary propositions belongs to this doctrine, but also knowledge of contingent propositions. Indeed, for the largest part theology consists of contingent propositions.30 The divine essence is both the first subject of the necessary truths of theology and of the contingent ones. One already finds the structure of necessary and contingent theology illustrated by an ethical example in the Prologue of Duns’ Lectura I-II: Therefore, I say that there are necessary truths about what is contingent, because a stone is falling down is contingent and yet there are necessary truths about falling, for example, that it looks for the center and that it falls down according to a straight line. In the same way, I love God is contingent and yet there can be a necessary truth about it, for example, that I ought to love God above all. This thesis can be proved as follows: God is the greatest one we can think of. Therefore, He is most lovable and I ought to love Him most. In this way I can have knowledge of contingent propositions. Then this knowledge really regards contingent contents in its first object, although it is not a content in the first sense. Yet, it concerns necessary truths which can be concluded about what is contingent.31 In terms of the basic distinction between necessary theology and contingent theology, it is to be seen that, with Duns, there are also two kinds of ethics: 30

31

Lectura Prologus 111: ‘Ad istam doctrinam non tantum pertinet cognitio necessariorum, sed contingentium, immo maxima pars theologiae est de contingentibus.’ Cf. Lectura Prologus 114 and 118. For the theme of philosophy, theology and scientia, see DPhil §§ 14.2-14.3, and the first chapter of this book. Lectura Prologus 172: ‘Ideo dico quod de contingentibus sunt veritates necessariae, quia contingens est lapidem descendere, et tamen de descensu eius veritates necessariae, ut quod appetit centrum et quod descendit secundum lineam rectam. Similiter, me diligere Deum est contingens, et tamen de hoc potest esse veritas necessaria, ut quod debeam Deum diligere super omnia. Et hoc demonstrative potest concludi sic: Deus est quo maius cogitari non potest; igitur est summe diligibilis; igitur summe debeo eum diligere. Et sic secundum hoc possum habere scientiam de contingentibus. Ista igitur scientia est vere circa contingens contentum in primo obiecto, quamvis non sit primo ibi contentum, et tamen est de veris necessariis quae possunt concludi de contingentibus.’ Cf. the much later parallel text in Ordinatio III 27 (= Opus Oxoniense III 27): see Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, Washington D.C. 1986, 424 (Latin) and 425 (English).

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necessary ethics and contingent ethics. So, necessary ethics is a part of necessary theology and contingent ethics is a part of contingent theology. We may suggest that the problem of the status of the commandments of the Decalogue and the nature of revocation of law must be treated in terms of this distinction.32 There runs an odd ethical paradox through modern philosophical ethics. On the one hand, there is a rather critical attitude towards Christian ethics, but, on the other hand, ancient non-Christian religions and Greek and Hellenistic ethics often enjoy a rather positive assessment, for it is claimed that reason unaided by faith is able to design a universal ethics, also embodied in all religions of the world. This claim is premature, for it is not confirmed by the facts. The religions of the world differ widely. The functions of their gods differ very much, but it is usually overlooked too, that whatever their differences may be, the existential and moral impact on the lives of those who believe in them is not very attractive. The belief that the jealousy of the gods is responsible for the fact that humans are not able to find happiness is not very attractive – to say the least. When it is believed that a god helps a childless couple to get two fine sons and that the wife of that god causes that the boys die, because the goddess is jealous of the friendship between the mother and her husband, we do not turn to something attractive – to say the least. Even the monotheisms differ widely, but if universal morality is a rationalistic myth, how can it be used to rebut Christian ethics? I do not claim a priori that Christian morality is right, but I simply ask why secular ethics naively believes in a universal law of nature, and at the same time is rather critical of the Christian stance in ethics. At any rate, this position is simply incoherent. The radical atheistic claim that all religion is superstition is more coherent, but does this radical claim make things better? This position entails that there is no universal moral truth – there is no natural ethics, for there is no natural religion. However, there is certainly no natural atheism – there is only a small minority of atheists all over the world. How would atheist ethics be possible? If it is said that the modern sciences refute religion, then there is a rejoinder easily to be stated: If this is the case, it does not give any ethical consolation, for the sciences cannot be a founda­tion of ethical truths. The atoms and molecules are ethically neutral just as the plane trees and the planets are. If secular naturalism will not do, Christian naturalism does not fare better.

32

See Duns Scotus’ Ordinatio III 37 and IV 17. For the philosophical ramifications of Duns Scotus’ ethical theory, see Mary Elizabeth Ingham, Ethics and Freedom. An HistoricalCritical Investigation of Scotist Ethical Thought, Lanham/New York 1989.

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McInerny is rather optimistic about the perspectives of a kind of Christian naturalism because of the cohesion of Thomas Aquinas’ thought: When Thomas referred to Aristotle as the Philosopher, he was not merely adopting a façon de parler of the time. He adopted Aristotle’s analysis of physical objects, his view of place, time and motion, his proof of the prime mover, his cosmology. He made his own Aritotle’s account of sense perception and intellec­tual knowledge. His moral philosophy is closely based on what he learned from Aristotle, and in his commentary on the Metaphysics he provides the most cogent and coherent account of what is going on in those difficult pages.33 The agreements and the differences between the ethical designs of Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus are striking. The methodological framework is with Duns quite different from what it is with Aquinas. In fact, the logical basement of Aquinas’ first principles is rather empty. The principle of non-contradiction is negatively essential, but it does not provide any positive harvets. It can only do so, if necessitarianism were to be true, but, fortunately, it cannot be so. Cohesion works in necessitarianism quite differently from what it does in contingency thought. Powerful cohesion can also be a deadly weapon: if one vital bulwark falls, all bulwarks fall. If – apart from the enor­mous historical significance of Aristotle’s works – the whole of Aristotle’s semantics and logic, epistemology and ontology collapses, it cannot be the foundation of tenable ethics. Alasdair MacIntyre opts for tradition (Aristotelian Thomism) over against modernity (Enlightenment) and ‘postmodernity.’ For MacIntyre it is a riddle why late medieval thought passed over the syntheses of Plato with Augustine and of Aristotle with Thomas Aquinas. He overlooked the logical answer: the synthesis of Aquinas must be inconsistent, since the ancient philosophies themselves are inconsi­stent. Ancient philosophy can only be utilized, if it is saved in the footsteps of Augustine and Anselm. However, the situation is even more urgent. Linus Thro bestowed deserved praise on Wolter’s marvelous source book Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality,34 but at the same time his critical question asks how rational ethics might be possible for the ‘faith thinker’ Duns Scotus is:

33 34

McInerny, ‘Saint Thomas Aquinas,’ Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy/fall 1999/entries/ a­quinas. Cf. § 4.2.

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Does the effort succeed in showing the accessibility of moral truth to unaided human reason? For instance, did Aristotle himself arrive at? Did Scotus doubt that any less than his predecessor St. Bonaventure? It seems clear that to the extent that he adheres to much of the AnselmianVictorine-Bonaventurian tradition he inevitably distanced himself from the Aristotelian. Scotus could hardly consider genuine moral truth available to man without faith.35 Wolter piles up arguments in order to answer Thro’s complaint. At any rate, Scotus claimed that ‘he had established a rational proof for the existence of an infinitely perfect God.’36 The existence of an infinitely good God is evidently a fine foundation of ethics, if it is true. Duns Scotus not only believed that this is the case, but he also feels sure that he had made his case, as, among others, Wolter has often showed. So, Wolter could have claimed that a complaint about fideism can only be accepted, if Scotus’ cause has been refuted. Moreover, Wolter argues that ‘if Scotus’ first presupposition seems ‘Christian,’ he himself certainly thought it was shared by the two philosophers he admired most, Aristotle and Avicenna (ibidem). Thro’s diagnosis that Scotus belongs to the Anselmian-Victorine-Bonaventurian tradition is perfectly true, but, according to Thro, this tradition is at variance with Aristotle’s philosophy. In contrast with this view, Wolter defends that Scotus was concerned not to distance himself from but to bring that Franciscan line of thinking into the mainstream of contemporary Aris­ totelian thought.37 Before I return to this defense, I summarize an additional line of argumentation found in Wolter’s contribution. He points at the controversy between the philosophers and the theologians at the University of Paris that Duns Scotus refers to in the opening question of the prologues of his Lectura and Ordinatio: why would we need God’s grace, if the fulfillment of what we have to be is built into the very core of human nature? Wolter is aware that there was a tricky use of the dichotomy of nature and super nature in traditional Catholic thought: If this dichotomy, perhaps, was introduced explicitly only in Cajetan’s day, it was spread by Suarez and the later scholastics and adopted gener35 36 37

Thro, ‘Review of Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and morality,’ Manuscripta 31 (1987) 46. Wolter, ‘Scotus’s Ethics,’ in Karris (ed.), Wolter. Scotus and Ockham, 179. Wolter, op. cit., 180.

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ally by Catholic theologians until relatively recent times. Only since Henri De Lubac’s studies on what the high scholastics themselves thought, has there been a trend to reverse this kind of dualistic, ‘twostoried’ conception of human nature.38 Eventually, Wolter himself wavers about what religions might have in common. For what right reason tells us is what perfects human nature naturally, and this should suffice for the development of a rational ethics by those who claim man’s moral behavior is not essentially dependent upon a divine command.39 Duns Scotus’ ethics is certainly not a kind of command theory, nor a ‘two-storied’ ethics. His philosophy is not a ‘two-storied’ philosophy. The whole of the necessary and contingent dimensions of his theological and philosophical thinking are of one nature. Here, Wolter’s overall comments on the thought of Scotus are at loggerheads with the entire Anselmian-Victorine-Bonaventurian tradition, and Scotus’ stance, in particular. It is true that Duns enthousiastically admired Aristotle and Avicenna, but that he would have thought that they shared his conception of God and his logical and ontological models is not true. He was simply convinced that the two philosophical options are diametrically opposed to each other and exclude each other:40 There is only a conflict between us and them about their foundation.41 Both systems are logically coherent in themselves, but their starting points differ. This entails that in most cases Aristotle and Avicenna are mistaken. This is precisely the battle ground between the majority of the Christian thinkers in the thirteenth century and the Christian Aristotelians.42 Wolter’s assessment widely differs from what the main line of Christian thought in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries believed itself. Even McInerny’s statement that ‘when 38

39 40 41 42

Wolter, op. cit, 180. The Renaissance paradigm shift in ontology and anthropoly played a major role in my own thinking since my critical review of it in The Fall of Theology (Dutch), Utrecht 1982. See §§ 6.7-6.8. Wolter, op. cit, 181. See DPhil chapter 14. Lectura I 8.237: ‘Non igitur est altercatio inter nos et illos nisi in isto fundamento eorum.’ See § 4.6.

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Thomas referred to Aristotle as the Philosopher, he was not merely adopting a façon de parler of the time,’ is not true. Thomas Aquinas shared the view that the philosophi represented a dated stage of though in the history of mankind: the philosophi were outdated and belonged to the past, and the theologi lived in the present of truth. Theology is the philosophy of the future. In spite of the fact that Wolter referred to the De Lubac revolution in medieval and early modern studies, he himself continued to tread traditional paths. Wolter treats the terms right reason and natural truth as absolutes – according to the still new stipulations of Renaissance though­t, whereas they only connote types of arguments.43 Moreover, he apparently reads the auctoritates use and the method of exponere reventer as if this style of the orthodox theologians proves hisatorically that they shared Aristotle’s philosophy.44 In Duns Scotus’ ethics we move in a landscape breathing fresh air. The issue of an adeqaute account of how we ought to act leads us the reality of God’s existence and nature. The arch running from the doctrine of God and ontology to practical philosophy mirrors just the structure of Duns Scotus’ ethics. The necessitarianism of ancient philosophy and the necessitarianism of modernity are replaced by the ontology of open reality. The arbitrari­ness of the relativism of ‘genealogy’ (MacIntyre) is replaced by the central position of the divine will, and it is impossible that there can be anything better. The egoism of utilitar­ ianism is overcome by the priority of the other person. The abstractness of deontologi­cal ethics gives way for the basic category of the individual and, eventually we meet an ethics of love, and no command theory of ethics. The moral inspiration is fed by divine love and involvement, from a merciful heart. There can be no better credenti­als of ethics. The ethical Entdeckerfreude finds rest in God’s agency. 9.6

Grace, Justification and Predestination

The linguistic and spiritual transitions from biblical language to patristic theology, both Eastern and Western, has kept balance between obedient loyalty and fertile inventi­on. Although the language of revelation is by no means exhausted by the theological languages of Greek and Latin, this does not by itself enfeeble the fact that classical theology has chosen a promising path. Many Reformers, especially English Refor­mers, were convinced that the 43 44

See DPhil §§ 12.-12.3, and §§ 4.3-4.4. See DPhil chapters 14 and 15.

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415

theology of the patres is constitutive for ortho­doxy, and I think this conviction can be vindicated. For Latin theology – certainly for Scotus’ theology – the works of Augustine have set a stand­ard. This can be read from the many references, but also from the absence of criticism. In general, auctori­tates are not rejected but reinterpreted – those of Augusti­ne in particular. In this respect the distance between Thomas and Duns is not as wide as in semantics, logic and ontology. The distance can become enormous, however, if their positions are tested in accordance with the require­ments of strict coherence. Augustine’s view is the main channel, but how does the stream flow after the middle ages, to Luther and Calvin, Trente and Dort, Schlei­ermacher and Barth? 9.7

Perspectives

It is fascinating to discover what experts in other countries, and cities, find in medieval philosophical texts, in general, and in Scotian texts, in particular. The emancipatory view substantially differs from the philosophia perennis view. In itself, the philosohia perennis view has different faces. Originally, this view simply denied the possible presence of philosophy in the Middle Ages. A Christian culture cannot offer room to philosophy, because it is endigeneously irrational. The Louvain rebound to such Parisian prejudices substantiated the presence of philosophy in the Middle Ages, but only along the tracks of Christian Aristotelianism. The main tradition is still to be considered to be theological and anti-philosophical. So, Scotus is still among the victims, but salvation is at hand. Scotus himself does not belong to the line of revelation thinking, because he is the man of proof and men of proofs are Enlightenment thinkers avant la lettre. All these options subscribe to the dualism of philosophy and theology. Theology-based philosophy cannot be philosophy. A much more subtle version of the last option is Richard Cross’s and it is to be divided into two parts. First, Duns Scotus is a true philosopher and in a nutshell his position tells us the following: Scotus never relies merely on theological arguments when ex professo discussing philosophical maters. Scotus is thus interested in giving a coherent account of the world independently of revelation. Scotus should therefore counted as a philosopher with a philosophical agenda.45 This statement embodies three different steps: 45

Cross, Duns Scotus, 13.

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(1) Scotus never relies merely on theological arguments when ex professo discussing philosophical matters. This subtle first step does not say that Scotus does not rely merely on theological arguments, when he discusses theological matters. First, Scotus himself handles quite a different conception of the nature of philosophy and the nature of theology. Theology is true systematic thinking and philosophy is untrue systematic thinking. Theology is Christian thought and philosophy is non-Christian thought. This point is in itself not critical of the Crossian point. We all handle a concept of philosophy which differs from this medieval notion. However, if we introduce our notion of philosophy we have to be aware of what we are doing. Apparently, Cross accepts that Scotus merely relies on theological arguments in matters theological, but does he do so in terms of Cross’s own notion of philosophy? Moreover, Scotus never relies merely on theological arguments when he discusses ex professo philosophical matters, but does this characterization describe adequately what Scotus is doing in matters theological. Does he have two distinct methodologies: one for doing theology and one for doing philosophy? With Scotus we do not find such a field of methodological forces. He distinguishes between proofs on the basis of auctoritates – such proofs are true proofs for him, whatever we may think of them – and argumentative proofs (ratione) – and, of course, these arguments and proofs are most interesting to us. Most of the proofs of the latter set eventually are proofs in the sense of being a natural argument, if they are not, they are still proofs according the modern notion of proof according to a Beth-like theory of argumentation and proof. We see Scotus discussing a certain issue and whatever we may think whether the subject-matter is either theological or philosophical, for us Scotus’ way of working and arguing is logical and philosophical, although it is theological for Scotus. Cross intervenes with his notion of philosophy and his distinction between philosophy and theology, but it does not matter. It does not matter how we label Scotus’ thinking, because we seen him proving and demonstrating. It is our problem, not his. It is a modern problem. Therefore, we can leave aside Cross’s first move, and we turn to the second one: (2) Scotus is thus interested in giving a coherent account of the world independently of revelation.

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Is there any grain of truth in this statement? The answer is very un-Scotian and un-Crossian, and un-Vossian, for the answer is: No, and Yes. The foundation of this answer is faith, and the result is philosophy, but is it the fruit of revelation? Then the answer is: Yes, and No! The second part focuses on theology: Scotus has clearly a theological agenda as well, an agenda with a distinct role: the understanding of revealed truth. […] The correct way of trying to understand revealed truth, for Scotus, necessarily involves a defense of what we would call the philosophical coherence of such truth. Theology, for Scotus, is a deeply rational exercise.46 9.7.1 Eucharist, Transubstantiation, Consubstantiation The real presence (praesentia realis) is the corner stone of the spiritual experience the doctrine of the eucharist rests upon in the Middle Ages and also has to rest upon. The real presence of Christ is also the corner stone of the spiritual experience shared by the Catholic, Lutheran and Reformed traditions – and, of course, by Eastern Orthodoxy – and underlies the theories of transubstantiation, consubstantiation and the real presence of Christ by the Holy Spirit. We experience that He is here and although we do nit see Him as we see our fellow Christians enjoying the celebration, we are so touched by his true presence that He is more close to us than our fellow Christians are. He gives himself by his presence to us and donates this presence: the great present and gift of his presence. Aat the same time it is an experience which is enjoyed by our flesh and blood, and although some modern Christians may think that this is mysticism, in fact, it is the unproblematical realism of the eucharis­t – Christian realism. The eucharist is a lucid experience: ‘Let us thank him who wanted to quicken us with his body.’47 It is the praesentia realis which quickens our life. It is not the only kind of presence He can bestow on us so that we are familiar with it. We know that He is in heaven – a kind of presence being also crucial for Scotus, but not for Luther and Brenz.48 Duns does not think that Christ leaves heaven in order to be with us. He does so neither, when we feel his presence, if we pray privately, are singing together, or are uplifted during a ser46 47 48

Cross, Duns Scotus, 13. See Martin Luther’s hymn ‘Gott sei gelobet und gebenedeiet,’ verse 1. I do not expect that the medieval theories of heaven can help us out, if we are faced with Christ’s Resurrection, Ascension and sitting at the right of the Father. The Lutheran doctrine does not need a theology of heaven, but that is not an advantage. See A. Vos, Het is de Heer!, Kampen 1990, chapters 6 and 7.

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vice of preaching, and so on. There are not only the bodily presence in heaven, the real presence in the eucharist, or the Lord’ Supper, and his spiritual presence. He can also appear – to Stephen, to Paul, to Fred. 9.7.2 Election and Predestination The alternative of rejection may be looked upon as more following the ‘infralapsarian’ line: God only condems if and because people persist in sin. Nevertheless, the starting point of this line of rejection is ‘supralapsarian’ too: It is just the second disjunct of God wills that a person a is ordered to grace and glory or God does not will that a person a is ordered to grace and glory. Some scholars do not see much difference between the Scotian viewpoint and Calvin’s, although the Franciscans, including Duns Scotus, are also considered to be (semi-)Pelagians. It is also asked why, according to Duns, God already refrains from a positive act of will with regard to Judas at the first structural moment. Then, there is no peccare finaliter; so, how and why can he do so? Not only the view that ascribes (semi-)Pelagianism to Scotus is unfounded, but the other complaints are also wrong on several counts. There yawns an abyss between Calvin’s predestinarian necessitarianism and Duns Scotus’ contingency thought.49 According to Calvin’s way of thinking, both election and reprobation are necessary, for if there is no actual volition, the involved act of willing is impossible. If reality is contingent, the impact of p or not-p is quite different. Duns Scotus explicitly denies that God wills that Judas is condemned at the first structural moment. Judas’ condemnation does not matter a priori. Mind also that although contingency thought creates room for historical thinking, history is not a real theme in Duns Scotus’ thought: it could only become so after the historical revolution in the second quarter of the nineteenth century. Predestinarian analysis is eschatological analysis. It is thinking from the end, not from history. Its crucial theme is the final stance of man before God (coram Deo), not the historical place coram Deo. In the end, Judas wills to rebel against God – he is not the only one – and God rejects this sin, God does not beat or slamb or revenge Judas. He rejects this sin and that is what sins deserve. He accepts repentance and faith and this is just what repentance and faith deserve. 49

See KN §§ 3.1-3.2 and Vos, ‘The Systematic Place of Reformed Scholasticism: Reflections Concerning the Reception of Calvin’s Thought,’ in Andreas J. Beck and William den Boer (eds.), The Reception of John Calvin and His Theology in Reformed Orthodoxy in Wim Janse and Jan Wim Buisman (eds.), Church History and Religious Culture 91.1-2 (2011), 29-41.

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Critical Editions

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446

Index

Index

Index abatissa 384 Abelard, Peter 51-53, 67, 99 ablativus absolutus 76 absolute 9, 43, 61, 67, 69-70, 76-77, 84-85, 87-91, 96, 115, 120, 125, 130, 132, 152, 167, 251, 277, 308, 327, 396, 400, 404, 435, 442 acceptatio 130, 237, 244-245, 248-249, 252, 268, 286, 345-346, 378 accident 91, 102-103, 105, 117, 139, 144, 149, 373-377, 399 accidental 90-91, 103, 105, 114, 117, 140, 144-145, 165, 168, 170, 177, 362, 365, 368, 375, 405 act 21, 45, 54, 58, 60-62, 73-80, 89, 102, 104, 106-108, 115, 117, 119, 123, 127, 130, 145, 149-151, 154-155, 157-158, 160, 162-163, 171-173, 177, 182, 189, 200, 203-207, 220-223, 225, 227, 230-231, 234-236, 240, 244-245, 247-255, 257, 270, 274, 276-277, 281-285, 287-291, 294-295, 297-305, 307, 309-311, 313, 315-321, 323-326, 331, 333-334, 340-342, 350-351, 353-354, 357, 362-363, 370, 378, 382-383, 385-387, 396-397, 405, 414, 418 of will 73-74, 78-80, 107-108, 154, 182, 206-207, 227, 234-235, 244, 250, 252-254, 257, 282-285, 287-291, 294, 316-320, 324-326, 331, 353, 370, 378, 382, 385-386, 418 positive 287-289 negative 290-291, 297-300, 317-319 action 45, 61, 65, 75, 89, 95, 97, 102, 107-109, 117, 130, 140, 154, 162, 171-173, 203-205, 213, 222, 225, 230, 277-278, 293, 300-302, 344, 350, 354, 397, 407 actualism 147, 158, 186, 189, 194-195 actus 21, 61, 64, 74, 129-130, 155, 158, 201, 203-205, 222, 225-226, 249-250, 253-254, 257-258, 285, 287-291, 298-300, 317, 319-320, 383, 385-386 Adam Marsh 5 Adam of Wodeham 24-25 adductive 368-369 affectio 258

agency 31, 76, 123, 134, 160, 307, 315, 325, 345, 394, 396, 414 a-historical view 198, 234, 252, 277, 392 Ailly, Pierre d’ 263 aim 107-108, 113, 115, 249, 282-283, 301-302, 304-306, 341, 385 Aland 263, 335, 380 Alan of Tongeren 18-19, 26 Alberic, Kurt 358 Albert of Metz 19, 25 Albert the Great 33, 54, 56, 68, 104 Alexander of Alessandria 19, 26, 30 Alexander of Hales 16, 55, 68, 276 Ambrose 261, 354, 357, 366 Amyraut 331-332 analogy 55, 69, 105, 163 analytical turn 60, 140, 206, 232 annihilatio 366 Anselm 2, 37, 46, 51-52, 54, 73, 99-100, 118, 126-130, 132-133, 141, 145, 152, 169, 199, 229, 235, 239, 255-256, 258, 278, 311-313, 393, 398, 406, 411 ante 111, 150, 206-207, 211, 255, 308 anthropology 31, 101, 109, 119, 122-124, 215, 235, 242-243, 245, 266, 278, 335, 384, 403-404, 406, 408 Antonius Andreas 200 Apostolic Creed 48 Apothegmata patrum 383 appetitus 204, 220, 258 apprehensio 204 argument 21, 42, 46, 57, 60, 64-65, 74, 79, 88, 129, 132, 134, 136, 141-142, 151, 153, 161, 165, 176-177, 180-181, 185, 195, 206, 213, 221, 225-226, 246, 265, 340, 373, 396, 416 Aristotelianism 37, 147, 179, 196, 214, 401, 415 Aristotle 10-11, 34, 37, 39-40, 45, 102, 148, 150, 168, 171, 176, 180, 186-187, 190, 194, 214-215, 218-219, 231, 233-234, 244, 251, 261, 362-363, 397, 411-414 ars obligatoria 99, 177 ascension 348, 417 auctoritas 34-35, 247, 312, 380

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004360235_012

Index Augustine 35, 37, 54, 85-86, 90-91, 96, 100, 162, 218, 221, 230, 235, 238-240, 246-248, 253, 255-256, 276, 278, 298, 303, 311, 325, 339, 342, 347, 353, 357, 390, 393, 411, 415 Averroes 34, 43, 150 Avicenna 34, 150, 397, 412-413 bachelor 10-12, 19-20, 24, 302 Bacon, Roger 190 Baillie, Donald 400-402 Balic, Carlo 84-85, 138-139, 202-203 baptism 335-336, 338, 344-357, 359, 378, 380-381 Barth, Karl 196, 237, 262, 265, 267-269, 271-272, 274, 277, 328, 398, 400, 415 Berengar 358 Bernard of Clairvaux 360 Bérubé, Camille 57 Beza, Theodore 332 Bible 5, 9, 12, 31-32, 34-36, 196, 212, 214, 218, 239, 248, 278, 379, 382, 386, 388 Biel, Gabriel 263 bigamy 36, 201, 226-228, 386 body 3, 36, 124, 141, 184, 187-194, 227, 343, 358-374, 376-377, 382, 388-389, 391, 417 Boethius 37, 83, 85-86, 100, 183, 393 Bok, Nico W. den 32, 54-55, 82, 86, 92, 106, 110, 126, 236, 275 Bolle, Kees 408 Bonaventure 5, 32-33, 54-56, 68, 85-87, 126, 132, 138, 141, 174, 177-179, 189, 221-222, 235, 276, 286, 342 Boniface VIII 18 bonum 21, 127, 130, 135, 203, 299 commodi 215 iustitiae 215 Breda, Herman van 57 Brown, David 10-11, 49, 424 Brunner, Emil 196 Bultmann, Rudolf 239 Cambridge 1, 4-5, 16, 19-20, 22-23, 203, 237 Canon Missae 361, 367 caritas 21, 109, 216, 218-219, 245, 248-249, 252, 299 causation 172, 179 cause 108, 117, 150-151, 153, 163, 180-181, 186, 240, 250-251, 254, 292, 315, 340, 342, 350, 352

447 Chalcedon 100, 103, 398-399 church law 210 circumcision 344-349 circumincessio 82 circumstance 385 Cologne 1, 5, 20, 24, 29-30 compatibilism 276 composite sense 283 concept 3, 12, 20, 32, 39, 43, 46, 49, 56, 58-61, 75-76, 80, 83-84, 93, 96-97, 106, 109, 117, 119, 121, 145, 148, 162, 180, 189-192, 196-197, 199-200, 228, 269, 280-282, 287, 291, 301, 304, 308, 339, 341, 357, 362, 364, 375, 384, 394, 396-397, 403, 408, 416 conceptual structures 45, 70, 80, 115-116, 177, 232, 309, 332-333, 406 conclusion 50, 142, 145, 161-162, 170, 176, 194, 223, 248, 258-259, 264-265, 323-324, 338, 342, 369 concomitanter 256-257, 363 condemnation 134-135, 284, 303, 315-317, 321, 323, 326-327, 418 Confessio Belgica 279, 351 confession 98, 261, 274, 346, 378-380, 398 confirmation 312, 336, 338, 346, 354-356, 359 connotation 283, 285, 293, 309, 311, 374-375 consequence 80-81, 129-130, 185-186, 248, 321, 364, 400 conservative 16 consiliatio 216 consilium 216, 218 constitution 58, 82, 84-85, 88-90, 95, 144, 157-158, 367, 396 consubstantiation 366, 417 contingency 12-13, 38, 45, 47, 56, 62-64, 74, 76, 80, 92, 99-101, 106, 109, 125-126, 130, 147, 150-151, 154-155, 162, 177, 183-184, 186, 193, 199-201, 205-206, 213, 215, 231, 242-245, 247, 258, 265, 268-269, 277-282, 285, 287, 303-304, 308, 312, 323, 325-327, 329, 331-333, 342, 345-346, 349-350, 373, 377, 380, 389, 394-396, 399, 402, 405, 408, 411, 418 diachronic 151, 177 contingent ethics 223, 232, 410 philosophy 408, 413 theology 38, 205-207, 408-410

448 contradiction 68, 75, 118, 120, 122, 165-166, 180, 182, 194, 213, 229-230, 236, 257, 283, 322, 365, 371-372, 376, 388, 390, 403-404, 411 conversio 359, 365, 369 coram Deo 327, 418 corpus 10, 104, 144, 175, 188-189, 193, 207, 227-228, 353, 358-362, 364-367, 369-370, 372-373, 389, 391 corruptio 192, 366 cosmogony 96, 148, 407 cosmology 13, 147-148, 196, 406, 408, 411 Counter Reformation 130, 236, 242-243, 262, 272 Courtenay, William J. 5-6, 9-10, 12, 15-19, 23, 32 Cousin, Victor 52 creatio ex nihilo 31, 147, 196, 407 creation 13, 29, 31, 54-55, 88, 96, 106, 117, 119, 124, 129, 133, 137, 147-155, 157-167, 173-176, 178-180, 193-197, 200, 231, 236, 239, 248, 311, 337-338, 363, 373, 388-389, 394, 397, 404, 406-407 Creator 80, 106, 119, 133, 136, 147-149, 163, 173, 196-197, 203, 240, 266, 337, 406-408 Cross, Richard 87, 90, 95, 102-105, 121, 134, 136, 178-179, 184, 190, 342-345, 363, 415-417 deacon 383-384 Decalogue 31, 211-213, 221, 224, 232, 410 demonstration 18, 40, 43, 57 denotation 374-375 Descartes, René 406 determinism 269, 273, 275-276, 292 Dettloff, Werner 252 diachrony 301 difference 22, 40, 78, 85, 93, 123, 136, 162, 167-170, 175, 177, 195, 209, 225-226, 238, 251, 276, 289, 291, 294, 300, 312, 326, 341, 375, 377, 395, 401, 418 Dijk, Isaäc van 238 distinction 4, 25, 29, 32-33, 37, 39-41, 53-54, 62, 66-68, 76, 91-92, 95, 107, 116, 120, 123, 125-126, 133, 140, 152, 154, 157, 166, 188, 190, 202-203, 206, 215, 225, 230, 232, 237, 241, 243, 245, 273, 279-280, 282-284, 292, 298, 301-303, 341, 344,

Index 368, 372, 374-376, 379, 381, 384, 395-396, 399-400, 408-410, 416 diversity 35, 63, 163 divided sense 280-281, 283-284 divorce 36, 386 docetism 236 doctrine 1, 31-33, 36, 42, 48-56, 62, 64, 74-75, 78, 81, 84, 90-98, 101, 106-109, 113, 115, 117-118, 124-126, 130, 132, 137, 140, 145, 147-148, 154, 158, 160, 173-174, 187, 190, 192-193, 195-196, 220, 229, 234-243, 245, 253, 256, 258-259, 262, 267-279, 286-287, 291, 300-302, 304, 306, 308, 310-312, 314, 317-318, 320-321, 323, 325-327, 329-332, 337, 341, 357-359, 363, 367, 369, 372-373, 376-378, 388-390, 394, 396, 398, 400, 402-403, 405, 408-409, 414, 417 Dodd, Charles 398 Dominicans 18, 104, 276 Dort (Synod of) 277, 279, 408, 415 Dronke, Peter 51, 53-54 Dumont, Stephen D. 6, 66-67 economical 66, 92-93, 381 effect 104, 106, 142, 152-153, 180, 187, 236, 250, 256, 287, 292-294, 297, 305, 316, 321, 334, 339-342, 345-347, 351, 353, 355, 361 efficax 292-295, 382 election 107-109, 113-114, 130, 276-280, 282-286, 301-306, 308-318, 320-321, 323, 326-327, 330, 332-333, 348, 418 empiricism 373, 389 end 87-88, 103, 107-108, 113, 156, 173, 199, 201-203, 301-306, 308, 311-315, 321, 323, 332-333, 337-338, 340 epistemology 155, 234, 345, 411, 435 equinitas 69 esse intelligibile 157-159 essence 54-56, 69-70, 81, 87, 89-90, 93, 95, 101, 123, 145, 155-157, 161, 164, 168, 170, 179, 190, 199, 240, 244, 249, 301, 344, 362, 369, 399, 402, 409 essential 49, 53, 56-57, 61-62, 64, 70-72, 90-95, 101, 105-106, 114, 122-123, 125, 136, 144, 152, 154, 163-168, 170, 175, 179, 193, 200, 205, 214, 222, 230, 243, 246, 248, 250, 254, 266, 268, 282-283, 286, 293,

Index 305, 307-308, 311, 315, 322, 325, 333-334, 337, 365, 368, 379-380, 396, 398-399, 405, 411 eternal 30, 70-71, 78, 86, 96, 114, 127, 130-131, 163, 174-180, 182-183, 185, 197, 244-245, 257, 261, 279, 281-285, 301, 305, 309, 311, 313, 315-316, 318, 322, 325, 327, 345-346, 378, 397, 406 eternity 15, 70, 109, 148, 174-175, 177-180, 182-186, 197, 275, 280-282, 284-285, 392 ethics 1, 21-22, 35-36, 99, 109, 125, 198-203, 205, 207-208, 211-215, 219-220, 223, 228-235, 245, 261, 264, 304, 308, 310, 335, 344, 381, 384, 388, 408-414 eucharist 335-336, 338, 343, 346, 354, 356-361, 366-367, 369, 373-374, 376, 378, 383-384, 388-390, 417-418 existence 56-57, 68, 77, 83, 98, 102, 109, 113, 116, 120, 123-125, 131, 135, 141, 144, 146, 151-153, 155, 165, 169-171, 179, 181, 189, 198, 205, 215, 218, 230, 233, 236, 240, 242, 258, 266, 282-283, 285, 293-294, 301, 303-307, 309-310, 312, 335, 337-338, 342, 360, 362, 368-369, 379, 385, 399, 401-402, 408, 412, 414 exorcist 383-384 exponere reverenter 183, 245 extreme unction 336, 338, 346, 381 faith 3, 5, 11, 21, 30-31, 33, 35, 41-42, 44, 46, 48-49, 52, 54, 57, 59-60, 64, 69, 82-83, 90, 93-94, 96, 98, 100, 102, 104, 118, 134, 140, 145, 147, 149, 173-175, 179, 181, 184, 186, 196, 198, 200, 216-217, 219-220, 224, 232, 234-236, 239-242, 246, 248-249, 259-261, 266, 269-274, 276-277, 286, 302-303, 308, 312, 325-327, 331-332, 340-341, 343, 351, 354-355, 357, 359-360, 367, 379, 390, 397-399, 405, 408, 410-412, 417-418, 423, 426-427, 435, 441 fall 6, 30, 52, 105, 109, 114, 127, 171, 186, 211, 213, 236, 270, 278, 306, 310-314, 329, 380, 384, 411, 413 fallacy 51, 438 filiatio 91 filioque 81-82, 91 finaliter 320-321, 326, 337, 339, 418 finality 266, 278, 301, 341-342

449 finite 80, 98 Flick, Maurizio 270-272, 427 foreknowledge 55, 142, 275, 277, 309, 311, 314 formal distinction 66-67, 123, 152 fortitudo 216-220 Francis of Assisi 5, 233 freedom 25, 55, 57, 78, 106, 125, 131-132, 199-201, 217, 230-231, 244, 251, 253, 255-256, 258, 269, 274-277, 281, 286, 303, 315, 327, 329-330, 335, 345, 351, 388, 410 freewill 129, 176, 247, 254-256, 258, 273, 286 friars 3-6, 9, 16, 18, 22-24, 30 frui 234-235, 302-304 Garland the Compotist 52 gaudium 216, 218-219 Gelber, Hester Goodenough 66 generation 50, 53, 68-73, 96, 171-172, 186, 362-363 genus 53, 83, 167, 220, 227 gerundive 163 Gilbert of Poitiers 53-54, 69 Giles of Loigny 18-19, 24-26 Giles of Rome 190-191, 256, 263, 371 Gilson, Étienne 57 glorification 249, 283, 285, 301, 309, 311, 324 glory 48, 78, 109-110, 113-114, 130, 234, 249, 276-277, 283, 285, 290, 301, 304-305, 310, 317-320, 324, 330, 356, 418 gnosticism 53 goal 301-302, 305-306, 312-313, 317, 341 God 20-21, 23, 30-31, 34, 36-38, 42-46, 48-62, 64-65, 67-90, 92-104, 106-114, 116, 118-120, 122-123, 125-133, 135, 137-145, 147-167, 172-173, 175-177, 179-185, 193-196, 200, 205, 207, 210-212, 214-215, 217-218, 220-221, 223-224, 226-227, 231-237, 240-245, 247-253, 255-258, 260267, 270-271, 273-278, 281-290, 293, 295, 297-335, 337-346, 349, 351-354, 356, 360-363, 367-368, 370-373, 377-378, 380, 383, 385-386, 388-391, 393-403, 405-409, 412-414, 418 the Father 48, 53, 61, 69, 73, 82-83, 85-86, 89, 96, 101, 161 the Holy Spirit 48, 69, 161 the Son 48, 53, 61, 69, 83, 101, 123, 131, 161

450 Godfrey of Fontaines 25, 44, 55, 73, 126, 371 Gogarten, Friedrich 398 Gonsalvo of Spain 17, 19, 24 goodness 68, 77, 106, 109, 113-114, 127, 155-156, 173, 199, 205, 216, 219, 223, 226, 230, 244, 252, 258, 303-304, 315, 321, 323, 325, 334, 339, 345, 378, 385 Good Samaritan 339 Gottschalk 276 grace 44, 48, 130, 236-237, 240, 242, 244, 246-249, 252-254, 256-257, 261-262, 265-266, 268, 270-272, 274, 276-277, 286, 305-306, 311, 319-321, 327, 337-342, 344-347, 351-352, 354-356, 361, 370, 380-382, 390, 412, 414, 418 Grant, Edward 192-193 Gregory VII 358 Grosseteste, Robert 5, 81-82 87, 99, 190 happiness 108, 130, 213, 217, 244, 252, 258, 266, 301-302, 305, 317, 319, 332, 338, 378, 410 Harnack, Adolf 127-128, 238, 241-242, 266 Harris, C.R.S. 228-231 Hauréau, Maurice 52 heaven 48, 150, 190, 194, 198, 311-313, 328, 340, 369-370, 373, 377, 389, 417-418 Hefner, Philip J. 406-407 Hellenistic philosophy 147, 196, 398 Henry, Desmond Paul 52 Henry of Ghent 5, 41, 44, 55, 73, 126, 142, 159, 174, 177-179, 277, 303, 316, 371, 390 historical method 232, 349-350, 393 historical revolution 34, 326, 392, 406, 418 history 1-2, 5-7, 31, 38, 46, 48-49, 92-93, 98, 101, 106, 108, 114-115, 130, 132, 138, 141, 145, 186, 198-199, 236-240, 246-247, 249, 251-252, 266, 301, 303, 305-308, 310-314, 326-327, 329, 336-337, 341, 347-348, 388, 392-393, 397-401, 405-406, 414 Hobbes, Thomas 276 Hommius, Festus 279 homoousios 90 Honnefelder, Ludger 200 hope 21, 46, 198, 217-220, 246, 248 hostia 369 Hugh of Saint-Cher 68 Hugh of Saint Victor 339, 381 humanitas 69

Index Hütter 279 hypostasis 239 idea 158 identical 164-167, 170-171 identity 44, 66-67, 74, 85, 92, 94, 106, 123-124, 132, 135, 155, 161, 164-167, 170-171, 181, 191-192, 200, 253, 259, 298, 304, 307, 315, 322, 343, 399, 402, 405, 430, 435 idolatria 346 immutability 56, 150, 153, 177 impossibility 123, 150, 166, 175-178, 390, 408 incarnation 31, 98-99, 101-107, 114-116, 118, 120, 122-125, 133-134, 136, 139, 144-145, 165, 307-308, 310-312, 373, 389, 394, 397-398, 400-401, 404-405 inception 25-26 incommunicable 83, 119, 243, 404 incompossible 164 individual 54, 69-70, 75, 88, 91, 93, 95, 97, 101-102, 106, 120-123, 125, 136-138, 141-142, 144-145, 168-170, 173, 225, 235-236, 243, 278, 304-305, 362-363, 386, 398-405, 414 individuality 69, 98, 106, 116, 118-125, 133, 145, 168-171, 259, 399-400, 402-405 infinite 44, 65, 71-73, 79-81, 93, 106, 160-162, 172, 179, 185, 194-195, 391 infinity 56, 80, 98, 179, 194 infralapsarianism 312 ingenitus 96 instans 183 instans naturae 111, 308 intellect 20, 38, 45, 67, 72-74, 79, 81, 153, 155-158, 160-161, 200, 204-207, 211, 216, 218-219, 230-231, 258, 276-277, 299 intention 31, 83, 130, 221-222, 260, 262-263, 305, 330, 350, 355, 360, 382 Jansenius 269 John of La Rochelle 55, 68 John of Peckham 177-178 John of Tongeren 19 justification 236-241, 243-245, 248-249, 253, 259, 262, 266-274, 281, 283, 286, 309, 352 Kilwardby, Robert 5

Index Kirk, K.E. 49-50, 64, 94 Kluxen, Wolfgang 200 knowledge 33-34, 38-39, 41-42, 44-46, 54, 64, 66, 69, 71-75, 77-78, 80, 82, 93-95, 100, 109, 114, 144, 151, 155-162, 177, 180, 183-184, 186, 190-191, 196, 203-205, 211, 214-216, 218, 225, 253, 265, 275-276, 281, 285, 296, 301, 321, 328-330, 333, 357, 373, 389, 394-397, 399-400, 405-406, 409, 411 Knuuttila, Simo 280 Kovach, Francis J. 173 Krop, Henri A. 33 Küng, Hans 237, 263, 265, 267-272, 274, 422, 432 Lanfranc 2, 52, 73, 357-358, 366 Lectura Oxoniensis 21-22, 29, 35, 99, 115, 139, 141, 202-203, 309, 336 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 195 liberal 133, 140, 196, 238, 241, 275 Locke, John 406 logic 1, 9-10, 26, 39, 46, 51-52, 54, 62, 66, 69, 72, 75, 81, 95, 113, 145, 147, 152, 167-169, 177, 186, 200-201, 234, 243, 247, 260, 287, 289, 291-292, 327-328, 365, 397, 411, 415 Lonergan, Bernard 270-272 Long, Charles H. 406-407 Loofs, Friedrich 241-242, 335 love 45-46, 48, 53-56, 78-81, 92, 106, 109-114, 130-132, 137-139, 161, 201, 211-212, 215-220, 233-234, 244-254, 257-258, 262-265, 268, 283-284, 287, 289, 292, 297, 299-300, 303, 305-307, 309-310, 408-409 Lubac, Henri de 413-414 Luther, Martin 237, 242, 259-266, 268, 272-274, 277, 329, 368, 377, 415, 417 luxury 356 lying 36, 201, 221-224 MacIntyre, Alasdair 411, 414 magister historiarum 348-349 magister sententiarum 126, 245, 338-339, 344 Marenbon, John 394 marriage 143, 226, 336, 338, 340, 346, 385-388 Marshall, Bruce D. 45, 174

451 Martin of Abbeville 19 matrimony 143, 226-228, 386-387 matter 26, 31, 70, 83, 94, 102, 117, 122, 141, 149, 167-168, 171, 173, 176, 178, 186-187 McCord Adams, Marilyn 325, 390 McGrath, Alister 237, 241, 247-248, 262-263, 276-277 McInerny, Ralph 411, 413 meaning 32-34, 37, 51, 77, 86, 90, 99, 104, 120, 128, 130, 135, 150, 152, 159, 164, 188, 208, 225, 239-240, 243, 264, 266, 269, 276, 281, 284, 292-293, 299, 308, 320, 332, 359, 367, 374, 380, 393, 400, 407 Mediator 114, 310 memory 7, 71, 78 mercy 128, 216, 219, 260, 274, 311, 325, 339, 345 meritum 242, 251, 303, 316 method 33, 55, 111-112, 118, 120, 208, 218, 220, 232, 245, 247, 261, 267, 349-350, 393, 414, 441 Middle Ages 2-3, 5, 9, 17, 25, 31-32, 47, 54, 84, 88, 134, 143, 199, 202, 232, 236-237, 246, 268-269, 286, 301, 327, 335, 357, 415, 417 mind 71-72, 78, 157, 184-186, 406 Minges, Parthenius 72, 229 misericordia 216-217, 219 modalitis 57 modus 55-56, 73, monogamy 36, 201, 227 monotheism 48-50, 148, 197, 397 motus 363 multiplicity 50, 63, 395 mutatio 362-363, 369 natural argument 180-181, 206, 416 naturalism 235, 410-411 naturaliter 44, 70, 188, 204, 206, 263-265 natural law 198-199, 201, 206-213, 226, 232, 270, 381 nature 34, 37-38, 40, 42, 45, 49-52, 54-56, 58-59, 62-66, 68-69, 71, 73, 79-80, 83, 86, 89, 91-93, 98-106, 110-111, 113, 115-124, 133, 135-138, 141, 145, 149, 155-156, 158, 160-165, 168-170, 173, 179, 190, 194, 198-199, 204-206, 208-212, 214, 220-221, 223-226, 229, 233, 241-244, 251-254, 263, 265-266, 271, 273, 278, 298, 304-305,

452 nature (cont.) 309-311, 313, 328-329, 333, 335, 340-341, 343, 346, 355, 357-358, 362, 367-369, 377, 390, 392-396, 398-399, 401-405, 408, 410, 412-414, 416 necessary 35-39, 60-66, 71-74, 77, 79-82, 85, 88-90, 93, 95-96, 101-102, 105-106, 111, 118, 121, 123-127, 129, 131, 134, 145, 147-157, 159-163, 165-166, 172, 176-177, 179-180, 183, 186, 189, 197-198, 200, 205-208, 211-215, 221, 223, 225, 227, 230, 232-233, 250-252, 254, 257, 262, 264-265, 270, 273, 276, 281-282, 284, 303, 307-308, 310, 312, 314, 316-317, 322-324, 326, 333-334, 340-343, 346, 351-353, 356, 370-372, 378, 380, 384, 390, 394-397, 399, 401-403, 406, 408-410, 413, 418 argument 265 ethics 200, 207, 223, 230, 310, 384, 410 philosophy 134 theology 36-37, 81-82, 95, 134, 207, 230, 384, 408-410 necessitarianism 13, 73, 102, 147, 155, 177, 199, 213, 233, 237, 262, 265, 273, 303, 323, 326, 408, 411, 414, 418 necessitas absoluta 77 consequentiae 62, 129, 131 consequentis 62 praecedens 133 necessity 56-57, 62-63, 76-77, 80, 96, 106, 126-127, 129-131, 133, 145, 147, 162-163, 171, 177, 186, 205-206, 244, 247, 251, 264-265, 276, 287, 299, 322, 325, 327, 329, 331, 341, 352, 397, 408 negation 96, 121-122, 124, 170, 257, 288, 290-292, 298, 300, 318-319, 325, 408 New Testament 48, 98, 143, 145, 147, 150, 199, 210, 232, 238-239, 266, 269, 320, 335, 341, 344, 399-401 Niebuhr, Reinhold 398 nolitio 288-292, 294-297, 300, 318 nominalism 92, 101, 134, 252, 268, 277 nutritio 204 oath 223-226 office 7, 26, 46, 225, 356, 383-384 Old Testament 35, 98, 146, 198, 221, 223, 228, 232, 328, 341, 344-345, 347, 379, 406

Index omniscience 66, 73, 155, 162, 183, 226, 273, 278, 328 ontology 1, 43-44, 53, 60, 69, 94-95, 111, 113, 123, 134, 145, 147-148, 154, 157-158, 168, 193, 195, 200, 232, 245, 247, 266, 278, 281, 286, 304, 311, 329, 332-333, 372, 388, 394, 396-397, 399, 402, 405, 411, 413-415 opposition square 289, 291-292 Ordinatio 7, 12-14, 17, 20-23, 26-27, 29, 33-43, 57-58, 60, 64, 69, 71-73, 76, 80-81, 83-86, 88-89, 91, 93-95, 99-100, 106-108, 116, 121, 124, 126, 132-133, 136-138, 141, 143, 149-153, 155, 157-161, 166, 172, 175-176, 178-179, 184-186, 188, 192, 201-204, 207-210, 217, 219-223, 225-227, 246, 255, 280-285, 287-291, 293-300, 302-303, 308-309, 314-321, 323-325, 335-341, 344-356, 359-391, 395, 409-410, 412, 419 Oxford 1, 4-6, 8-9, 11-12, 14-24, 29-30, 37, 57, 81, 84-85, 99, 132, 137, 201-203, 272, 312, 327, 335-336, 359 Pannenberg, Wolfgang 276-277 Paris 1-2, 4-5, 9, 11-12, 14-20, 22-30, 56, 66-67, 72, 81, 87, 113, 137, 174, 201-202, 215, 267, 286, 316, 336, 372, 374, 412 Parmenideans 151 paternity 91 Pauck, Wilhelm 263 peace 114, 216-217, 219, 328, 377 peccare 140-141, 253, 255, 257, 289, 299, 315-316, 321, 324, 326, 418 peccatum 128-129, 225, 246, 253-254, 256-257, 260, 298, 314-315, 317, 321, 323, 351 originale 246, 256 Pelagius 245-247, 252, 351 penance 207, 335-336, 338, 352, 378-380 perdition 320, 351 perichorèsis 82 permission 278, 287, 289-292, 295-298, 300, 318-321, 324-325, 331, 348 person 49, 51, 54-58, 61-62, 64-65, 68-71, 73, 75, 78, 80-84, 86-91, 93-95, 97, 100-103, 109, 111-112, 115-122, 124-125, 128, 132-133, 137-139, 145, 160-163, 170, 215, 224, 226, 233, 244, 246, 261, 265, 280, 284-285, 296, 299, 308-310, 313, 316-317, 320, 324-325, 327-328, 333, 338-339, 350-351,

453

Index 353, 355, 357, 362, 365, 370, 382, 385, 387-388, 394, 396, 398, 401, 403-404, 408, 414, 418 persona 58, 68, 72, 83, 89, 93, 139, 239, 362, 401, 438 personhood 61, 75, 80, 95, 97, 109, 118-125, 397, 402-404 Peter Abelard 52-53, 99 Peter Comestor 348-350 Peter Olivi 12, 84, 87-88 philosophy 1-2, 4-5, 8-12, 31-32, 36-37, 39, 44, 59, 65, 94, 98, 101-102, 106, 118, 134, 144, 146-148, 152-153, 165, 168-169, 172-174, 176, 184, 186-187, 190-191, 193-194, 196, 200-201, 214, 220, 229-231, 233-235, 238, 242, 247, 266, 268-271, 277, 280, 286-287, 300, 325, 329, 331-332, 335, 343, 386, 389-390, 392-394, 398, 401-402, 405-406, 408-409, 411-417 physics 4, 44, 149, 171, 174, 187, 190, 192-193, 363, 431 pietas 216, 218 place 186-194, 372-373, 377, 388-389, 411 Plantinga, Alvin 243 Plato 170, 186, 238, 411 Platonism 147, 196 pleasure 218, 293, 301 Plotinus 106 pneumatology 78, 377 poena 128, 378-379 Polman, A.D.R. 258 pontifex 354 Porphyry 10, 106 possibility 57, 59, 106, 112-113, 115, 119-120, 124, 133-134, 139, 141, 143-145, 153, 159, 175-176, 178-179, 181, 197, 226, 255-256, 258-259, 265-267, 273-274, 276, 281-283, 286, 293-294, 315, 318-320, 323-324, 326, 371, 396, 405-406 post 111, 207 potentia 94, 122, 160, 171-173, 176, 189, 249, 255, 404 absoluta/ordinata 67-68, 75-77, 251, 341, 371 potential 124, 189 power 68, 70-72, 93-94, 216-220, 251, 254-255, 333, 339, 342-343, 347, 357-359, 371, 380, 383 praesentia realis 360, 367, 377, 417

praxis 201, 203-205 predestination 106-110, 114-115, 130, 259, 271, 275-279, 284, 303-304, 308, 311-312, 321, 323, 325, 327, 329-332, 414, 418 priest 46, 343, 354, 356-357, 360, 378, 381-384 priesthood 46, 335-336, 383-384 principle 60, 62-63, 65-66, 72, 74-75, 79-80, 82, 94, 106-108, 144, 159-160, 162-163, 167-168, 171, 176-177, 195, 199, 207-208, 211, 213, 220, 225, 235, 255, 266, 271, 282, 290, 302, 313, 317, 331, 337, 371-372, 395, 405 processio 50, 56, 93, 96, 396 productio 43, 50, 56, 58-64, 70, 72, 96 productive 60-61, 63-66, 72, 79, 82, 95, 159, 368, 395 proof 40, 43, 176, 178, 182, 228, 233, 338, 411-412, 415-416 property 3, 49, 59-60, 66-69, 72, 84, 87-89, 91, 94, 96, 101, 103, 116-117, 121, 140, 149-150, 164-168, 170, 177, 195, 212, 244-245, 248, 273, 283, 305, 311, 315, 363, 365, 376-377, 395 proposition 38, 43, 60, 65, 69, 79, 81, 90, 94, 104, 111, 138, 152, 154, 157, 194, 207, 213, 235, 251, 257, 263-265, 280, 283-284, 286, 291, 320, 323-324, 326, 364-365 proprietas 358 punishment 128, 240, 325, 339, 352, 356, 378-379 quod est 53 quo est 53-54 Rahner, Karl 274 ratio 190, 193, 205-206, 252, 264-265, 302-303 rational 32, 70, 98, 120, 157, 195, 198, 200, 219, 226, 229, 233, 392, 398, 411-413, 417, 430 rational relation 157 ratione 35, 416 real distinction 33 reality 13, 34, 36, 45, 52, 55, 62-66, 68, 71, 74, 79, 83, 86-87, 95, 102, 106, 109, 111-112, 114, 123, 125, 130-131, 133, 147-148, 150, 155-157, 159-160, 162, 164, 168-169, 173, 184-186, 195, 198, 205, 220, 224, 226, 233, 235-237, 243, 245, 251-252, 254-255, 262, 266, 268, 277, 281, 286, 290, 292, 294, 297, 301, 303-304, 306-308, 313, 315, 317,

454 reality (cont.) 320-324, 326-329, 332-333, 335, 337-340, 342, 345, 347, 350-351, 353, 359-360, 368, 374-377, 379, 390, 393-397, 399, 405-408, 414, 418 real relation 117, 157, 164 reason 54, 94, 107, 200, 203, 229-231, 238, 303, 398, 410, 412-414 Redeemer 114, 310, 314, 337 redemption 127, 129-130, 132, 142, 145, 236-237, 243, 270, 310-311, 353, 373, 389, 394, 405 relatio ad extra/ad intra 161 relation 58, 60-61, 70, 82, 84, 86-91, 93-94, 117-118, 148, 153, 155-158, 161, 163-167, 190-191, 194, 304-305, 340, 351, 375-377 Renaissance 236, 242, 263-265, 277, 413-414 Reportatio Parisiensis 17-18, 20-22, 25, 29, 70-71, 73-74, 82, 85, 100, 110115-116, 125, 132, 135-139, 184-186, 202, 252, 301, 308-310, 336 reprobation 275-278, 282-283, 298, 300, 303-304, 315-316, 320-321, 325-326, 331, 333, 418 res 66, 164 resolutio 366 Richard of Middleton 246 Richard of Saint Victor 54, 83, 86, 132 Richard of Sloley 23 Rijk, L.M. de 31, 37, 51-52, 54, 269, 303, 393 Roscelin of Compiègne 51 rule 9, 107-108, 155-156, 217, 227, 352-354, 379, 388 sabbath 201, 209, 211-212, 251 sacrament 207, 335-343, 346, 350-351, 353, 355-357, 359-361, 367-369, 378-387, 389 sacred 32-33, 174, 335, 342, 344, 348, 358, 382 salvation 31, 33, 35-36, 46, 48, 92, 95, 101, 113-114, 127, 130-132, 239, 246, 249, 251-252, 270, 275, 278, 285, 306-307, 311-312, 314, 320, 327, 329-330, 332-333, 338-339, 341, 344-345, 347, 352, 356, 358, 370, 394, 415 sanctification 212, 241, 272, 383 Schleiermacher, Friedrich Daniel Ernst 398, 415 scholasticism 37, 52, 98-99, 129, 229, 292, 326-327, 331-332, 372, 418 science 32, 37-45, 148, 153, 172-173, 193, 205, 234, 266, 356, 392

Index scientia 33, 38-44, 157, 200, 204-206, 216, 218, 223, 235, 243, 273, 409 scientific revolution 12, 392 Scotism 1, 92, 134, 200 semantical 51, 60, 69, 135 semantics 9, 51-52, 54, 91, 165, 282, 393, 411, 415 sensus 280, 284 separability 374 sign 158, 297, 337, 339-340, 343, 346, 350-351, 358, 360-361, 373, 382, 389 signification 374-377 simoniacus 353 simplicity 3, 9, 31, 56, 63, 327, 332, 426 sin 31, 99, 106, 114, 127-129, 140-142, 196, 221-225, 227-228, 237, 242, 246, 253-258, 260-262, 266, 274, 283, 289-290, 298-299, 305-306, 308-309, 311-317, 323-325, 327, 330-331, 333-334, 339-340, 344-346, 350-353, 378-382, 418 skepticism 146, 214 slavery 387 Socinianism 279 socius 16-19, 26 soteriology 236 space 186-189, 193-195, 407 species 53, 83, 169, 360-361 Spinoza, Baruch de 195 spiration 75, 78, 89 spirituality 9, 21, 203, 234-235, 237, 266, 274, 357, 359, 379 structural moment 73, 81, 110-113, 155, 157-158, 160, 289, 304-309, 317-322, 325-327, 330, 418 structure 2, 46, 48, 51, 56-57, 62-63, 65-66, 75, 91, 95, 97, 105, 107-109, 112, 123, 132, 148, 160-161, 168-169, 172, 186-187, 211, 215, 219, 235, 250, 272, 278, 281, 283, 292, 297-298, 302-304, 307-313, 315, 322, 324, 327-331, 333, 383, 394-395, 404, 407, 409 student 3, 5, 8-10, 15, 17, 37, 201, 269, 393 substance 43, 53, 70, 102, 105, 121, 144, 149, 167-168, 171, 194, 262-263, 362, 367-369, 376, 401 substantia 43-44, 51, 58, 69, 91, 93, 168, 367, 369, 375 substrate condition 363 substratum 187 succession condition 363

455

Index super nature 220, 242-243, 343, 412 suppositum 93, 105, 116, 136, 354 supralapsarianism 306, 308, 312 synchronic contingency 12-13, 76, 151, 177, 186, 193, 265, 280-281, 308, 329, 333 synchrony 285 theogony 96, 148 theology 1-5, 8-15, 19, 22-26, 28-39, 41-46, 48-55, 57-61, 64-67, 73, 77-78, 80-82, 84-85, 88, 92-96, 98-104, 106, 109, 113, 115-116, 118, 124-126, 128, 130, 133-134, 137, 140-141, 144-146, 148, 150, 157, 163-164, 167-168, 174, 186, 193, 195-197, 200-201, 205-207, 214, 229-239, 241-244, 247, 249, 253, 262-263, 265-272, 275-276, 278, 286-287, 292, 298-299, 304, 307-308, 311-312, 326, 329, 331-332, 335-337, 341-346, 357-359, 367, 373, 376, 378-380, 384, 386-390, 392, 394, 397-399, 401-402, 405-410, 413-418 Thomas Aquinas 32-33, 37, 39, 41-42, 44-45, 47, 54-56, 102-105, 109, 123, 126, 134, 142, 145, 162-164, 168, 171-172, 174-179, 181, 184-185, 190-191, 195-197, 199, 212-213, 217, 221, 229, 231, 237, 241-242, 268, 276, 286, 335, 341-342, 347, 349-350, 357, 359-360, 371, 373, 384, 389, 393, 397, 400, 404, 411, 414 Thro, Linus 202, 233, 411-412 time 182-186, 307-308, 327-328, 406-407 timor Dei 216 transaccidentatio 362 transcendent terms 43, 169, 403 transubstantiation 357, 359, 362-363, 365, 367-370, 372-373, 376-377, 388-390, 417 trinitarian 43, 46, 48-51, 53-62, 65, 68-69, 75, 80-84, 87-88, 90, 92-93, 95-97, 109, 125, 145, 148-149, 159-160, 162-163, 244, 351, 389, 394-398, 401, 405 trinity 43, 48-56, 58, 62-64, 66-68, 70, 73, 75, 78, 80, 84, 92-95, 97-98, 101, 103, 125, 142, 145, 162-163, 248, 338, 394, 396 triune 48-50, 61, 65, 68, 92-93, 100-101, 125, 147-148, 160, 162-163, 244, 249, 346, 394, 396-397 truth 31, 38-39, 42, 59, 81, 93, 150, 156, 160-162, 175, 179, 184, 186, 200, 206-209, 211-214, 221-222, 224, 226, 231-232, 235,

247, 251, 257, 260, 273-274, 277, 282, 293, 333, 342-343, 358, 367, 378-379, 381, 390, 394, 408-410, 412, 414, 417 truth value 277 universals 52, 91, 168, 399, 405 university 2-6, 8-10, 14-16, 18, 22-23, 29-30, 32, 174, 202, 269-270, 272, 412 univocity 20 virtue 211, 213-214, 217-220, 249 Vogel, C.J. de 269 Vogelsang, Eric 263 volitio 289-292, 294-295 voluntarism 200, 228, 230, 268 voluntas 239, 243, 292, 294-295 efficax 294 remissa 292, 294-295 Wadding, Luke 138, 203, 336 Walgrave, Jan 266 Werner, Karl 229-230 Wetter, Friedrich 71, 78, 87-89, 444 will 25, 35, 45, 54-56, 63-64, 67, 72-75, 77-81, 93-95, 98-99, 101, 106-111, 114-116, 131, 140, 143, 150-151, 153-157, 159-162, 178, 180-182, 185, 193, 199-212, 214-223, 225-231, 233-235, 242-258, 268, 270, 274-278, 280-301, 304, 306, 308-312, 314-333, 335-336, 344, 350, 352-353, 355, 370-371, 373, 378-379, 381-382, 385-386, 389, 394-397, 400, 402 William of Ockham 329, 332 William of Paris 87 William of Ware 149 Wolter, Allan B. 412-414 Wood, H.G. 398 word 4, 6, 9, 31-32, 42, 55, 65, 69, 73, 76, 78, 82-83, 92, 96, 100, 102-103, 105, 114-118, 120, 122-124, 130, 133, 136-139, 141, 144, 150, 160-161, 165, 176, 188, 222, 248, 259, 310, 315, 336, 340, 350, 362-363, 372, 374-376, 387-388, 396, 401, 404 world 13,30, 86, 148-150, 160, 163-167, 174-180, 186-187, 194-197, 200, 272, 282, 395-397, 406 Wulf, Maurice De 52, 229 Zanchi, Girolamo 277