Per Caritatem

Given the “crisis” state described in the previous section, Oberman seeks in this section (“The Search for New Security”) to focus on one aspect of the late medieval attempt to find “new forms of security, namely, the bridging of the distance between the sacred and the profane” (pp. 25-26). As Oberman explains, late medieval scholasticism’s own self-understanding—it’s views on the world, human beings, society etc.—are still largely unknown territory. However, late medieval scholasticism represents the high point of Franciscan thought.

Oberman goes on to say that he prefers the labels “nominalism” and “via moderna” for this period as they are more comprehensive categories and help us to see how far-ranging (both as to people groups and to its influence beyond the 14th and 15th centuries) these ideas were. The following constitute key elements of the nominalist movement as discussed in this context. First, there is the always-present connection between potentia ordinata (that which God has in fact decreed but which could have been otherwise) and potentia absoluta (the infinite possibilities available to the absolutely free God). With this dialectic we are reminded of the absolute contingency of our world based solely on God’s (free) decree (p. 27). Second, contingency must be properly understood. In other words, contingency should be understood both vertically (God-world-human beings) and horizontally (world-human being-future). Oberman adds that contingency here is not to be taken as that which is unstable and constantly threatened by potentia absoluta. Rather, “[t]he contingency of creation and salvation means simply that they are not ontologically necessary. The point is that in the vertical dimension our reality is not the lowest emanation and level in a hierarchy of being which ascends in ever more real steps to the highest reality, God” (p. 27). Third, nominalism insists that our world is not a shadowy reflection of higher levels of being, but instead has its own “full reality.” Fourth, nominalism issues a protest against “wild speculation” and “vain curiosity,” particularly against claims of reason that are not verified by tests of experience. Here you have nominalism providing the setting for modern science, “replacing the authority-based deductive method with the empirical method” (p. 28). One can also view the underlying intention of nominalism as a rejection of meta-categories that obfuscate reality. “Just as it rejected metaphysics to establish physics, so nominalism ventured to strip theology of her distorting meta-theological shackles, with the result that the Scriptures and the prior decrees of God were emphasized at the expense of natural theology” (p. 28). Fifth, we have an emerging new image of God as a result of the stress on God’s potentia ordinata. Here God is understood as the covenant God who has made a pactum with his creation (which includes salvation history and everything that entails) and human beings are seen as “contractual partners” with God in this covenant (p. 29). Here we should add that this emphasis on God as a “contractual partner in creation and salvation,” (p. 29) is intimately connected with the Pelagianist teaching facere quod in se est, a teaching which is here interpreted as God having determined in eternity “past” (in his decree) to accept and reward certain human moral efforts apart from a prior movement of grace. Thus, in the nominalist view, human beings are now seen as representatives or partners of God who are responsible for their own lives, society and the world – all of course based on and within the limits of God’s decree (p. 29).

Wrapping up the section, Oberman says that with all of the above points we can see nominalism’s “new vision of the relationship between the sacred and the secular by presenting coordination as an alternative to subordination and partnership of persons instead of a hierarchy of being.

This series will be a multi-part presentation of chapters 1-2 of Heiko A. Oberman’s book, The Dawn of the Reformation. Oberman divides chapter one, “Fourteenth-Century Religious Thought: A Premature Profile,” into seven sections. This post will cover sections 1-3. The first section serves an introduction in which Oberman spells out his intentions for this chapter. Desiring both to avoid artificial categories employed by many historians, as well as atomizing tendencies, Oberman intends to show the “pregnant plurality of fourteenth-century thought” (p.1). In order to do this, a new perspective must be opened because our current perspective on fourteenth-century thought has been more or less determined by preceding scholarship (e.g., as a result of the excellent work of Martin Grabmann and Etienne Gilson). Grabmann and Gilson focused their work on the 13th century with St. Thomas Aquinas as the central reference point. Consequently, the tendency was to compare and evaluate the 14th century on the basis of Thomas’ system. In contrast, Oberman contends that St. Bonaventure and the Franciscan tradition (rather than St. Thomas) was the main source of inspiration for the 14th century and that Bonaventure above all “determines the questions asked and the answers given” (p. 3).

In section two, “The Myth of the Thomist Phalanx,” Oberman de-mythologizes the myth that Thomas unequivocally reigned supreme in the fourteenth century. Though not denying St. Thomas’ stature and the influence of his works in the universities, Oberman claims that the thesis of Thomist supremacy in the 14th century does not stand up under closer scrutiny. In fact, there was a good deal of opposition during this time to Thomas’ teaching. For example, the Dominican General Chapter had to defend Thomas four times in a period of 25 years before the ruling to teach Thomas “singularitur” was put into practice. One result of these decrees was “the lectura thomasina, the commentary on the Sentences of Lombard according the young Thomas” (p. 4). Secondly, in the 1320’s, because the opposition outside the Dominican order had become so strong, a group of early disciplines of Thomas called the defensores arose. When a selection of 230 errors of Aquinas (mainly dealing with metaphysical issues) was drawn up, the defensores in their attempt to address these concerns actually ended up “transmitting a metaphysical Thomas, without paying equal attention to Thomas as the interpreter of the Fathers and of the Scriptures” (p. 5). The emphasis on a metaphysical Thomas enabled a caricature of an Aristotelian, anti-Augustinian Thomas to take hold (p. 5). In addition, “the lectura thomasinaencouraged a stress on the young Thomas of the Sentences commentary [which Oberman claims is more semi-Pelagian] rather than on the mature Thomas of the Summa theologiae” [the mature Thomas sheds the semi-Pelagian aspects and adopts an Augustinian view of justification by grace alone] (p. 5). Oberman ends the section by suggesting that the metaphysical Thomas presented by the defensores perhaps explains in part why Aquinas did not appeal to philosophers and theologians well into the 15th century.

In the third section, “The Franciscan Hegemony,” Oberman discusses some of the effects of the anti-Averroist condemations of 1270 and 1277. First, we might point out that the anti-Averroist condemnations created difficulties for the “organic development of Thomism” and evoked the “Franciscan alternative” (p. 5). A second result of the Parisian condemnations was the appeal to the ruling that no theology should be taught in the philosophical faculty. This in turn allowed for a study of the “pure” Aristotle (i.e., an unbaptized Aristotle) by Duns Scotus and Ockham and the nominalists in contrast to St. Thomas’ synthesizing tendencies (i.e., his presentation of an Aristotle more easily “swallow-able” for Christianity). However, this “pure Aristotle” was significantly less (if even possible at all) harmonizable with the faith. This clear tension then with Christianity then evoked a reaction by the Franciscans and opened up what Oberman calls the “Franciscan Alternative.” The Franciscans viewed Averroism with suspicion and were (1) particularly alert to any association of God and necessity and (2) particularly welcoming of accounts of God as a freewilling Person. One of the main emphases of the Franciscan alternative was the Augustinian concept of promissio. God’s promissio or pactum (or eternal decree)—his “reliable commitment”—which precedes history (taking place in eternity “past”) and which when enacted initiates or underlies creation and redemption (historia salutis). Hence, it is rightly termed a metahistorical conception[1] and is set in contrast to the metaphysical ontology of St. Thomas. Oberman then highlights the total “otherness” of these two conceptions. “Whereas in Thomas’ metaphysical ontology the natural and the supernatural realms are organically joined by the Being of God in whom we participate by reason and faith, the metahistorical alternative retraces nature and supernature, creation and redemption, to the Person of God, and points to God’s will as […] the ‘ceiling’ of theology” (p. 6).

Oberman then goes on to discuss and relate the above findings to the 14th century use of the dialectics of the potentia absoluta (absolute power) and the potentia ordinata (ordained power). Here the potentia ordinata speaks of the domain of theology which finds its subject matter in God’s revealed will,[2] i.e., in what God actually does in time/history (according to his eternal decree) in creation and redemption (p. 7). Going beyond the potentia ordinata is to move into speculative territory and to engage in hubristic activity. In contrast, “[p]otentia absoluta marks the realm where speculative reason is no longer guided by faith. It is the domain of God’s unlimited freedom abstracted from his commitments de potentia ordinata” (p. 7). One should not, however, interpret or equate the anti-speculative affective thrust of the Franciscans with anti-intellectualism or intellectual laziness (p. 8).

Notes
[1] The nominalists of course considered themselves the more consistent advocates of the metaphysical conception of theology.
[2] I.e., in Scripture, the Fathers, and the doctrinal decisions of the Church.

In contrast with Auriole, for Ockham there is “no necessary relationship between salvation and grace-induced habits of love” (The Age of Reason, p. 37). This view is reflected in Ockham’s statement, “Quidquid Deus producit mediantibus causis secundis potest immediate sine illis producere et conservare,” i.e., “whatever God can produce by means of secondary causes, he can directly produce and preserve without them.” Just as God in his potentia absoluta was able to cause intuitive knowledge in the human mind of something that does not exist, he can also save people without infused habits of grace (Ibid., p. 37).

Ockham is said to have gone overboard in his desire to stress the radical contingency of creation, as well as all things ecclesiastical—churches, sacraments etc. As Ozment points out, Ockham founded his teaching on two traditional sources. First, he appealed to Augustine’s view of the church on earth as permixta, that is made up of both believers and unbelievers. Here what counts is not present grace, but ultimately the gift of perseverance which is given to the elect only (see, City of God, bk. 1, ch. 35). Secondly, Ockham based his teaching on the distinction between the potentia absoluta Dei and the potentia ordinata Dei, the absolute and ordained power of God. Below is a concise summary of Ockham’s understanding of this distinction:

“Sometimes we mean by God’s power those things which he does according to laws he himself has ordained and instituted. These things he is said to do by ordained power [de potentia ordinata]. But sometimes God’s power is taken to mean his ability to do anything that does not involve a contradiction, regardless of whether or not he has ordained that he would do it. For God can do many things that he does not choose to do […] These things he is said to be able to do by his absolute power [de potentia absoluta]” (Quodlibeta VI, q. I, cited by Dettloff, Die Entwicklung der Akzepations— und Verdienslehre, p. 282) [as found in Ozment, p. 38].

Here we should note that Ockham’s view of God’s absolute power does not involve God acting contrary to the law of non-contradiction. Secondly, the contrast between ordained and absolute power seems to be employed by Ockham to stress the radical contingency of everything that is not God, and to show that what God actually did chose to do in time could have been otherwise, as there were infinite possibilities that could have been ordained. As is well known, many have criticized Ockham’s view as overly speculative and ultimately detrimental to the church and faith. Since this view is common, I will discuss another interpretation that views Ockham’s theology within an Augustinian trajectory in its emphasis on the radical finitude of creation.[1] Pointing to recent scholarship on Ockham, Ozment writes, “Rather, than believing that God actually suspended the laws of nature and ignored the priestly sacramental system of salvation, despite his theoretical ability to do so, Ockham too taught that God normally saved people by grace-induced habits of love. Where he drew the line more indelibly than most, however, was at the suggestion that people were necessarily saved by such habits. That, he believed, was an insult to both human and divine freedom.” [For Ockham] … salvation could never finally be dependent upon qualities within individuals or upon assumed real connections between, God, grace, and the soul, even though God had elected to save people by infused habits of grace” (Ibid., p. 39). In the end, salvation depends squarely on the trustworthiness of God’s will and word. Here we have the wedding of Ockham’s philosophy and theology. That is, just as in matters of genuine knowledge, words as verbal conventions connected the human mind with reality, so too in matters soteriological, words expressed as covenants and promises connect the human being to God” (Ibid., pp. 39-40).

Though some claim that Ockham’s position results in a fideism that ultimately destroys the church, Ozment points out that Ockham’s view “was at least as conducive to the conservation of a vibrant ecclesiastical institution and spiritual life as a more generous view of the theological reach of reason and the metaphysical concept of the working of grace. If, as Ockham argued, revelation was the exclusive access to God, then much hinged on the example and credibility of its custodian; in the very contingency of the Christian church lay an urgent mandate to reform it, not to oppose it, and certainly not to seek alternatives to it” (Ibid., p. 40). Ozment ends the section on Ockham observing that in spite of his stated intentions, his position is Peligian. (Because I have discussed the Peligianism of Ockham’s position in a previous post, I won’t rehash it again).

Notes
[1] This is not to say that I accept or follow everything that Ozment says here, yet some points are worth considering.

Duns Scotus (ca. 1265-1308) was highly critical of St. Thomas’ position regarding the infused habit of grace. Scotus saw himself continuing the Augustinian tradition and in light of Augustine’s teaching on predestination, Scotus wanted to avoid any doctrine that seemed to suggest that God saved human beings because of something intrinsic within them. For Scotus, God’s freedom and omnipotence must not be compromised; consequently, Thomas’ idea of an accidental form of grace within the human soulsthat might obligate God to save those who, e.g., attempted to love him habitually, was unacceptable (The Age of Reason, p. 33). God’s will and God’s will alone was “primary in the definition of the Christian. What God decreed in man’s regard was far more important to his salvation than any quality of soul he might come to possess; people were saved only because God first willed it, never because they were intrinsically worthy of it” (Ibid., p. 33).

Though Ockham is famously associated with the principle of parsimony (the “razor”), Scotus had a razor of his own that he employed against Thomas’ doctrine of salvation, viz., nihil creatum formaliter est a deo acceptandum (“nothing created must, for reasons intrinsic to it, be accepted by God”). In other words, that which is created and finite can in no way determine that which is uncreated and infinite. “Every relationship God had outside himself was, by definition, absolutely free, contingent, unconditioned, in no way obligatory. From Scotus’ perspective, Aquinas bound God too closely to the church’s system of grace and tended to lose sight of the great distance that obtained between God’s eternal will and its execution in time through created orders and finite agents. Thomist theology seemed to run the danger of entangling the divine will in the secondary causation of the church, priests, sacraments, and accidental forms of grace” (Ibid., p. 33). St. Thomas, of course, did not teach that God was a debtor to human beings or to any other creature; however, he did claim that God was a debtor to himself and to what he had established and set in motion (which of course includes his ordained system of salvation) [pp. 33-34].

According to Scotus, God’ ordinations play only a secondary, not primary role in regard to things soteriological and were thus contingent through and through. For Scotus, we must distinguish between God’s will established from eternity and the means by which he executed his will in time—God will and eternal decree being primary. “Necessary divine relations existed only within the Godhead, there, in eternity, where Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, taking counsel with themselves, decided to create and save a portion of mankind. In eternity God had determined within himself everything that would be, including who would and who would not be saved; having so determined, he then, freely and wisely, but also secondarily, elected agents to execute his will in time. Means other than churches, priests, sacraments, and infused grace could have been chosen, for in eternity an infinite number of possibilities lay before him. Indeed, he was free to save people directly without any intervening agents. The choice of particular means to execute the divine will had nothing to do with any intrinsic value they possessed, and their importance continued to lie in their having been chosen by God. […] What counted first, for Scotus, was God’s pleasure: if God willed in eternity to save a person, it would be done; how it was accomplished remained secondary. To put the issue another way, for Scotus, in distinction from Aquinas and other contemporaries, people were beautiful to God because God first loved them; God did not first love them because they were intrinsically beautiful” (Ibid., pp. 34-35).

This difference between the way Scotus and Thomas understand the nature and role of secondary causes in matters soteriological also manifest (and understandable so) in their respective views of the sacraments. According to St. Thomas, the sacraments were “instrumental causes of grace and salvation” that both “contained and communicated grace”; hence, they were necessary to salvation. One can see the interconnectedness of Thomas’ system here, viz., just as in his epistemology, universals were really in re and in intellectu (as intelligible species), so also grace was really in the sacraments and in the human soul as an accidental form (Ibid., p. 35). Scotus, on the other hand, “identified with a tradition that explained the efficacy of the sacraments in terms of a covenant made by God. Sacraments work not because they intrinsically contain and convey grace, as a cause intrinsically contains and conveys its effects (Aquinas), but because God has agreed to be present with his grace when the sacraments are performed; they are conditiones sine quibus non for the reception of grace. Where Aquinas placed the secondary cause, the sacrament itself, in the foreground, Scotus placed the will of God. Sacraments were efficacious media of grace for both, but for Scotus they were emphatically subordinate to the divine will”[1] (Ibid., p. 35).

Ending this section, Ozment notes that though Scotus stressed the contingency of creation and the transcendence of God (both motivated by theological reasons that he felt needed to be addressed given his historical context), his intention had not been to debase or devalue the created order, but to define the nature of created things more accurately in light of eternity (Ibid., p. 36).

A question for Calvin scholars, are there not serious similarities between Scotus’ and Calvin’s view of the sacraments? Are there any scholarly works (in English or German) of which you are aware that trace Reformed covenant theology back to Scotus and the Franscican tradition? Perhaps Oberman does this to some extent; however, I have not read enough of his works to know whether that is the case or not.

Notes
[1] Interestingly, Ozment cites a passage from Thomas that again brings Peter Lombard into the picture—here in connection with a certain view of the sacraments that Scotus seems to adopt. Quoting the passage from St. Thomas as cited in Ozment in which Thomas states that not all theologians are agreed as to the nature and working of the sacraments and then describes a position differing from his own [Lombard’s view], we read, “God has covenanted that whoever takes a genuine sacrament will receive grace, not from the outward sign [i.e., not from the sacramental ritual and elements themselves], but from God. This opinion, which appears to have been held by the Master of the Sentences …”, p. 35.