The Theologian

There are few pleasures comparable to picking up a copy of the Summa Theologica, opening at random and reading what Aquinas has to say.  The manner in which each question is answered, starting with the counter-arguments before stating the thesis and then countering the counter-arguments, is so convoluted that each question in the work resembles nothing so much as a little puzzle to be deciphered.  And, seeing the pairing of the Philosopher (always “the Philosopher,” not “a Philosopher”) and the other named (and thus obviously minor) philosophers along with the Truths of Scripture make the whole massive work an intellectual treat.  It’s not a book to read from beginning to end, though I have no doubt many people have done so.  In other words, the Summa Theologica is a book well worth owning and leaving in a handy place for ready reference.

Aquinas has another book of systematic theology, one I had never really looked at before.  The Summa Contra Gentiles is a four volume work (though for some, probably odd, reason, my copy has divided Volume 3 into two books).  It doesn’t have the structure of the Summa Theologica; it looks like a standard work on Philosophy.  And, it is structured quite differently—instead of mixing Faith and Reason throughout, volumes 1-3 are the attempt to show how far you can get in understanding God through Reason alone and Volume 4 is what we learn by Faith.  I’d never looked closely at the Summa Contra Gentiles—until now.

I just finished Book One: God.  Aquinas spends 300 pages proving everything we can know about God from Reason alone.  We learn that God exists—which would seem to be a necessary proof in a volume like this—if we can’t prove God exists, then we can’t prove anything about Him.  And then we learn a host of things about God—he is eternal, has no body, is unique, good, one, infinite, intelligent, truth, and wills.  Those are the sorts of things normal people might say about God.  We also learn in this book that God has no passive potency, contains no accidents, knows singulars and future contingent singulars, has an essence which is his will, and wills things other than himself with the necessity of supposition. Those are the sort of things that Aristotle, pardon, The Philosopher, might say about God.  And therein lies the virtue and the problem with this book.

It is hard not to look at a book like this with some measure of awe.  The enterprise itself is most impressive.  The very act of seeing how far you can get in describing God by virtue of reason alone seems like embarking on a rather short journey, but Aquinas believes he can get very far indeed.  And, most importantly, it is impossible to argue that believing in God is somehow irrational after reading a book like this.  You’ve been there when someone says that religious believers are all idiots who believe silly things with a blind faith unlike our hyper-sophisticated, reasonable speaker.  It is a simple matter of fact that anyone making a statement like that has never read Aquinas.  It’s not that Aquinas will convince anyone that God exists—in fact, I doubt this book would convince anyone of that, despite Aquinas’ best efforts—it’s just that after reading this book, it is would be impossible to argue that belief in God requires one to abandon Reason.  I daresay that anyone making the case that reason and religious belief don’t mix would have a very hard time even reading this book.  A very hard time. 

But, the virtue of this book is also what makes it something less than an exhilarating read.  While the Summa Theologica is a pleasure in its odd stylistic manner, the Summa Contra Gentiles reads like Aristotle.  And that isn’t a compliment.  I was once told by a philosopher that those who read philosophy divide neatly into those who like Plato and those who like Aristotle.  I am in the Plato camp.  Aristotle, for all his amazingness (and he is amazing), is a bore to read. 

Now this leaves me with a big problem for the future.  There are three more volumes in the Summa Contra Gentiles.  Do I read them?  I have the same problem with Aristotle, by the way.  I’ve read Nichomachean Ethics, Politics and Poetics. Every now and then I think I should read something else by Aristotle, but I really can’t bring myself to start him once again. Aquinas presents an additional problem—I actually enjoy perusing one of his works, so should I force myself through another one of his works?

[And, by the way, if you don't really know much about Aquinas, here is a brief introduction.]

5 of 6