Per Caritatem

Robert Prentice argues that one of the purposes of Scotus’s De primo principio is to “present a thirteenth century Proslogion.“[1] More precisely, Prentice attempts

“to show the vast influence of St. Anselm’s Proslogion in the compilation of this tract, an influence so consistent throughout its pages that one is entitled to say that Scotus had the Proslogion before him when he worked his Ordinatio material into the form which it assumes in the De primo principio, and that he intended to ‘modernize’, as it were, the Proslogion.”[2]

In his essay, Prentice does a masterful job of tracing out the ways in which the Proslogion shapes the De primo principio, laying stress on the importance for Scotus, given his thirteenth century philosophical milieu, to produce a treatise that incorporates Aristotelian metaphysics in such a way that those teaching in the universities-those who had, of course, largely embraced Aristotelian philosophy-would find acceptable.  As Prentice explains, at the time when Scotus composed the De primo, a sharp distinction between faith and reason was in place, the doctrine of divine illumination was on its way out, and Aristotelian epistemology and metaphysics were in.[3] In contrast with Anselm’s day, where the lines between theology and philosophy or faith and reason were more blurred, in Scotus’s day the impetus was to make one’s project conform to the demands of Aristotelian science. In other words, Scotus’s desire (or at least one of his desires) was to present a purely philosophical argument for the existence and nature of God-an argument whose premises in no way depended upon divine revelation, which is not to say that that argument was not inspired by divine revelation.

Prentice identifies four points of contact between the Proslogion and the De primo principio:  (1) “Kinship in Spirit”; (2) “Similarity of Purpose”; (3) “Direction of Basic Outline”; (4) Relationship in Intrinsic Argumentation.”[4] Regarding the first point of contact, “kinship in spirit,” Prentice begins by discussing the common spirit of the Proslogion and the Monologion rather than the Proslogion alone, since the two are so closely related, the former “being the offspring of the Monologion.”[5] After showing the common spirit of the two works, Prentice can then more easily highlight the particularities of the Proslogion. The spirit of Anselm’s two works are characterized as “discursive, meditative and reverent.” Anyone who has read either the Proslogion or the Monologion can readily understand why Prentice would label it as having a discursive quality, as the entire work is permeated with numerous interrelated (syllogistic) argument chains attempting to establish God’s existence and nature.  Yet, in the midst of such an abstract, speculative thrust, both works possess a meditative quality whereby one’s personal religious life is meant to be affected.  This meditative aspect of the work then leads naturally to its reverent quality.  That is, the subject matter, God, is not a mere lifeless object to be investigated, but is a Person worthy of worship.  As Prentice puts it, the author “is personally aware of the dignity and majesty of the Divine Being”; consequently, “an attitude of humility, submission and prayerfulness permeates the pages of the Monologion and the Proslogion.”[6]

Since both works are characterized by a discursive and meditative quality what distinguishes the Proslogion in particular from the Monologion is the fact that it is a direct address to God.  As one reads chapter one of the Proslogion and the opening lines of chapter two, one is struck with the strong Augustinian tone of a man who deeply loves God and who desires to expand his knowledge of God in the most comprehensive way possible for a finite, sinful human being.  Prior to turning directly to address God, Anselm communicates a sense of mission, a sense of inviting and even urging those who might read the work to enter into Anselm’s prayer and join him in contemplating God’s nature. “Now then, little man, for a short while fly from your business; hide yourself for a moment from your turbulent thoughts.  Break off now your troublesome cares, and think less of your laborious occupations.  Make a little time for God, and rest for a while in him.”[7] Then, directly following this exhortation, Anselm breaks into an extended prayer that lasts for the entirety of chapter and continues into the second chapter.  Below are selected moments from Anselm’s opening prayer that give us a taste of its personal and devout nature, as well as a sense of one who sincerely yearns for a more intimate union with God.

Speak now, O my whole heart, speak now to God:  “I seek thy face; thy face, Lord, do I desire.”  [...] teach my heart where and how to seek thee, where and how to find thee. [...] Look upon us, O Lord, hear us, enlighten us, show us thy own self.  Restore thyself to us, that it may be well with us, whose life is so evil without thee.  Take pity on our efforts and strivings towards thee, for we have no strength apart from thee.  [...] Rescue me, take away my burden. [...] Let me receive thy light, even from afar, even from the depths.  Teach me to seek thee, and when I seek thee show thyself to me, for I cannot seek thee unless thou teach me, or find thee unless thou show me thyself.  Let me seek thee in my desire, let me desire thee in my seeking.  Let me find thee by loving thee, let me love thee when I find thee.[8]

Clearly, one gets the impression that Anselm is not engaged in a detached, disinterested fashion, but rather he understands that he is addressing the living God, whom he worships and in whom he believes has the ability to illumine his mind and properly direct his inquiry.  In the last paragraph of chapter one and into the first few lines of chapter two, we come to the rather well-known part of Anselm’s opening prayer. Here Anselm addresses God and proclaims,

I am not trying, O Lord, to penetrate thy loftiness, for I cannot begin to match my understanding with it, but I desire in some measure to understand thy truth, which my heart believes and loves.  For I do not seek to understand in order to believe, but I believe in order to understand. For this too I believe, that “unless I believe, I shall not understand” [Isa. 7:9].  And so, O Lord, since thou givest understanding to faith, give me to understand-as far as thou knowest it to be good for me-that thou dost exist, as we believe, and that thou art what we believe thee to be.[9]

In short, because the literary form of the Proslogion is that of a direct address to God (and one can’t help but to hear echoes of Augustine’s Confessions), it has a more intimate, personal feel in comparison with the Monologion.

Notes

[2] Prentice, “The ‘De Primo Principio’ of John Duns Scotus as a Thirteenth Century ‘Proslogion,’” p. 79.

[3] Prentice, “The ‘De Primo Principio’ of John Duns Scotus as a Thirteenth Century ‘Proslogion,’” pp. 79-80.

[4] Prentice, “The ‘De Primo Principio’ of John Duns Scotus as a Thirteenth Century ‘Proslogion,’” p. 80.

[5] Prentice, “The ‘De Primo Principio’ of John Duns Scotus as a Thirteenth Century ‘Proslogion,’” p. 81.

[6] Prentice, “The ‘De Primo Principio’ of John Duns Scotus as a Thirteenth Century ‘Proslogion,’” p. 81.  As Prentice points out, the titles of Anselm’s works hint at the three-fold spirit of the work.  The title, “Monologion,” means “soliloquy,” a kind of self-meditation in which the understood subject of the mediation is God.  “Proslogion,” means “an address made to God about God’s nature.”  In fact, the original title of the Proslogion, prior to its publication under Anselm’s name was, “Faith Seeking Understanding” (p. 82).

[7] Anselm, Proslogion.  As found in A Scholastic Miscellany:  Anselm to Ockham, ed., Eugene R. Fairweather.  (Philadelphia:  Westminster Press, 1956), p. 70.  (All further references to the Proslogion will be to the work as found in this anthology).

[8] Anselm, Proslogion, pp. 72-73.

[9] Anselm, Proslogion, p. 73.

Following a long-standing tradition, the two presidential candidates, Barack Obama and John McCain, came together to attend the Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation dinner in New York.  For a bit of history on the foundation, as well as the dinner, I’ve copied a few paragraphs from the foundation’s website:

Founded by His Eminence, Francis Cardinal Spellman in 1946, to honor the memory of Alfred Emanuel Smith, New York’s renowned Governor and patron of the “Little People”, the Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation supports and aids the poor, sick, and underprivileged of the Archdiocese of New York, regardless of race, creed, or color.

On the history of the dinner:

Although both his state and his country generously honored Alfred E. Smith after his death in 1944, the most unusual and notable memorial to him has been an ongoing series of black-tie dinners. Sponsored by the Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation, these annual fêtes were initiated by then-Archbishop (later Cardinal) Francis J. Spellman of the Archdiocese of New York in 1945. Since that time the Foundation has raised millions of dollars for healthcare causes.

Cardinal Spellman, capitalizing on the fact that Governor Smith died in the month of October (the peak of election season), used the dinner to remind later generations of Smith’s extraordinary public career and unique role in political history by securing the participation of the leading political figures of those later generations. Over the years, the dinner has attracted the cream of modern American politics: the list of speakers and attendees reads like a who’s who of the political landscape.

In the early years of the dinner’s existence, this event might have been the only time some of these candidates would share a dais during the entire campaign. By 1960 the Al Smith dinner had truly reached its zenith as “a ritual of American politics,” in the words of Theodore H. White.  Many of past dinners have generated front-page news items as a result of the program, i.e. joint appearances of opposing presidential nominees.

While commendatory references to Smith and his actions were once common, by chance or by design, many of the addresses at later dinners have taken on a lighter tone. Indeed, the occasion has evolved into something of an opportunity for speakers – particularly ones whose mien is typically quite serious – to show, through quips and slightly irreverent humor, that they can poke fun at a political issue, an opponent, or themselves.

I have to say that this year’s roasting speeches were extremely entertaining.  Both candidates were witty, respectful, and really, really funny.

Click on the screen below to hear Obama’s speech:

Click on this link for McCain’s speech.

I’ll be in Philly this weekend presenting a paper on Scotus at the PMR conference at the Villanova Conference Center.  Though the program lists me as presenting on Friday, our session has been moved to Saturday morning at 10:45am.  If you plan to attend the conference, please drop by and say hello.