Law and Grace in Aquinas’ Summa: Considerations on the Thomist Understanding of Freedom Daniel H. Arioli Fate and freedom are promised to each other. Fate is encountered only by him that actualizes freedom. … He that forgets all being caused as he decides from the depths, he that puts aside possessions and cloak and steps bare before the countenance—this free human being encounters fate as the counter-image of his freedom. It is not his limit but his completion; freedom and fate embrace each other to form meaning; and given meaning, fate—with its eyes, hitherto severe, suddenly full of light—looks like grace itself. -Martin Buber, I and Thou The question of the relation of freedom and law is among the perennial political questions; and that of the relation between freedom and grace is among the perennial questions for Christian philosophers. Thomas Aquinas’ treatment of law in the Summa Theologiae represents, certainly not the first, but surely one of the most decisive of encounters between these two recurring and foundational questions. What is the status of freedom, if it is law, which includes compulsion among its integral components, that directs man to his natural end? What, again, is the status of freedom, if it is grace alone that enables a man to attain his supernatural end?1 For it is evident that law presupposes freedom, and indeed the possibility of the abuse of freedom; so too does grace presuppose freedom, in that grace (in the salvific sense) presupposes and perfects nature.2 An obvious objection must be addressed, here at the outset: for freedom is hardly a central term in Thomas’ thought; certainly, the conflation of “freedom” and “nature” is not in keeping with the spirit of Thomist philosophy.3 That said, the conception of freedom we employ here is the minimal notion of freedom required for either law or grace to make sense—namely, human culpability. Thomas writes: “Man has free-will: otherwise counsels, exhortations, 1 Cf., Bernard Lonergan, Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 41-2. 2 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Dominican translation (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1981), i-ii, q.99, a.2, ad. 1. Henceforth ST. 3 I, with Lonergan, find it helpful to distinguish between the adjectives “Thomist” and “Thomistic;” the former denotes Thomas’ authentic philosophizing, and the latter the various more and less authentic interpretations or reformulations of Thomas’ thought that have emerged in the past seven-hundred or so years. See Bernard Lonergan, Verbum: Word and Idea in Aquinas (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), 96, 148. 1 commands, prohibitions, rewards, and punishments would be in vain.” 4 We have in mind no existentialist, nor even a Scotistic, conception of freedom, but only that minimal concept according to which a man may be praised or blamed for his actions: for if man cannot be praised or blamed for his acts, then law is unnecessary, and grace is meaningless. Accordingly, the foregoing is not an attempt to suggest that “freedom” and the “natural” are identical, but only that the freedom that allows for censure, for moral responsibility, is natural to man. But that both law and grace simultaneously presuppose and radically call into question that status of freedom is a problem in need of clarification. For—from a certain point of view— while law presupposes freedom, it may seem as though a man under the compulsion of law is in no significant sense free. Likewise with grace: for if the freedom that is natural to man is insufficient for man’s attainment of his supernatural end, and requires that grace should transform or perfect it, then this freedom takes on a problematic character. For, is man really free if the attainment of his proper end can be achieved, not through his own powers, but only by a gratuitous addition to those powers, that can in no way be merited or earned by means of any act springing from this freedom itself ?5 In what follows, we shall explore the way in which St. Thomas presents both law and grace, not as limitations of, but rather completions or perfections of human freedom, and the way in which grace, itself, is in turn presented as the fulfillment of a promise implied by the giving of law. What will be revealed is a conception of freedom according to which man’s capacity for self-determination appears secondary to his capacity to be oriented toward and fulfilled in and through some good that he may freely pursue. 4 ST, i, q.83, a.1. 5 Ibid., i-ii, q.109, aa.5-6. 2 As we are operating from the minimal conception of freedom, our procedure in the following will be to see how Thomas’ presentations of law and grace, given here necessarily in outline form, shed light upon this minimal conception, and reveal certain aspects of the notion of freedom that may not come out so clearly in Thomas’ more overt discussions of the matter.6 In other words, we shall explore in just what ways law and grace are seen either as limiting or transformative notions, with respect to freedom. We shall begin, like St. Thomas, with law. Thomas’ classic formulation of the definition of law is as follows: law is “an ordinance of reason for the common good, made by him who has care of the community, and promulgated.” 7 On the surface, this classic definition has no obvious relationship to freedom; freedom is not even mentioned in the definition. Indeed, this definition rather conspicuously leaves freedom out of consideration: neither rationality, nor the notion of the common good, nor of legitimate authority, nor of promulgation, obviously relates to freedom. And yet it remains the case that, only if freedom in the sense of a capacity to be blame- or praise-worthy is real, do “ordinance[s] of reason for the common good, made by him who has care of the community, and promulgated” have their sufficient cause: freedom appears here as the negative of law, as what is restricted by law, according to reason, for the common good, by a proper authority, in a public manner. Freedom appears then as the counter-concept to law, that negative against which law appears as a positive; or vice versa, that law is the negation of freedom. Their initial relationship, then, is antithetical. Much more could be said on this point, and somewhat more will indeed be said in what follows; but for now, let us turn to grace, for in relation to grace, too, freedom first appears as a 6 See especially, ST, i, qq. 82-83, i-ii, qq. 6-13. 7 Ibid., i-ii, q.90, a.4. 3 negative, as an antithesis. Grace is that which is superadded to human nature to enable man to attain his supernatural end, namely, union with God in the beatific vision.8 Thomas writes, “Now no act of anything whatsoever is divinely ordained to anything exceeding the proportion of the powers which are the principles of its act; for it is a law of Divine providence that nothing shall act beyond its powers. Now everlasting life is a good exceeding the proportion of created nature.” 9 Accordingly, “no created nature is a sufficient principle of an act meritorious of eternal life, unless there is added a supernatural gift, which we call grace.” 10 Again, on the surface, we may not think that the notion of freedom has any relation to the Thomist conception of grace; for grace, here, seems to stand most obviously in relation to nature. There is a certain end, it seems, proportionate to man’s nature; but beyond this end there is another fuller, more complete end, to which man’s nature is disproportionate; and thus this nature requires supplementation by grace.11 Hence the maxim that grace presupposes and perfects nature. It is grace, then, that allows nature to be transformed into (and this may be a misleading choice of words, for the exact relation of nature and super-nature has some ambiguities to it, and all language becomes metaphorical at this point) super-nature. What relation, one may ask, has all this to freedom? 8 ST., i-ii, q.110, a.2. 9 Ibid., i-ii, q.114, a.2 10 Ibid. Thomas is speaking here of man in his pre-fallen state, but the same holds for fallen man, with the addition that fallen man requires an initial forgiveness which is also a result of grace. 11 The precise relation of these two ends of man is a question worth raising, but which lies beyond the scope of the present inquiry. 4 The freedom of the will is man’s capacity to resolve upon various courses of actions— (perhaps) to elect ends and (certainly) to decide upon means to those ends.12 Whatever man’s nature may be, surely the freedom of the will is a component in it. But if grace is a supplementation and perfection of man’s nature, it cannot involve a violation of man’s proper freedom—at least his freedom to choose means to ends. In other words, grace cannot be a replacement of man’s own will with God’s, the substitution of an alien willing for the one that has grown up naturally in man; rather, it must be a modification or re-organization of man’s will such that he can—more consistently, more efficaciously—resolve upon proper ends and choose proper means to attain them. That is to say—grace enables man’s will, while retaining its natural integrity, to resolve itself upon a supernatural end, namely God. Bernard Lonergan, in the second of his four articles on the relation between grace and freedom, aptly sums up this relation in this way: “interference is always a species of violence, and though, no doubt, divine interference would make man’s operation proper, it would leave man himself just as bad as he had been.”13 That is to say, if God’s grace replaces some component of man’s nature, then it is not the case, properly speaking, that the man has been improved, his will made whole; it is rather the case that he has been made to function properly, at the expense of being what he is. God’s grace must leave the man a man, while opening him to fuller possibilities. But, given the foregoing qualifications, it is clear enough that grace, in the first instance, appears as the negative of freedom. It is God, and not man, who is capable of bringing about this 12 Cf., ST, i, q.83, aa.3-4. We are confronted here with the dilemma suggested by Aristotle in the Nicomachean Ethics: choice determines character, and character determines the sorts of ends seen as good; but once a certain end or set of ends is given, is the individual free only to decide upon means to those ends, or may he make the more radical choice to see some new end or set of ends as good? In other words, is there a de facto determinism implied in the suggestion that the ends a man sees as choiceworthy are always already given by upbringing, inculturation, and the like? 13 Lonergan, Grace and Freedom, 46. 5 change of heart. And while a subtler examination may reveal that grace is, in fact, not opposed to freedom, and perhaps even constitutive of freedom properly understood (and this is precisely what both Aquinas and Lonergan are interested in showing), the fact remains that, at first blush, grace seems to be a limitation of man’s freedom; or, put differently, that man’s freedom extends just as far as his ability to remain unaffected by grace—for once grace takes hold, a man’s salvation “depends not on human will or exertion, but on God who shows mercy.” 14 Both law and grace, then, appear immediately as limitations of man’s freedom, the one by restricting the scope of his action with regard to his natural end, and the other with regard to his supernatural end. And if we have seen, already, some intimations of the way in which grace, properly understood, is not to be thought of as a limitation of man’s freedom, it still remains to be seen whether the same can be said with regard to law. The question, then, might be put thus: is there any sense in which law can be seen, not as a limitation of man’s freedom, but as the very condition, perhaps even as a constitutive element, of his freedom? It seems appropriate to answer this question after Thomas’ own fashion, and say: in a sense no, and in a sense yes. For Thomas distinguishes between four sorts of law: the eternal law, or God’s eternal provision for the government of the world; the natural law, which is man’s participation in the eternal law, or the eternal law as it applies specifically to man’s attainment of his natural end; the human law, or positive law established by a human authority (chiefly) for the sake of securing, first, the common good, but also temporal goods—peace, justice, and the like; and finally the divine law, which is given by God to direct man to his supernatural end. 15 And in a sense, each of these (or, rather, three of these four) can be seen as a limit of man’s freedom; but 14 Rom. 9:16. 15 ST, i-ii, q.91, aa.1-4. 6 in a deeper sense, each reveals to man the true nature of his freedom as being not merely a freedom from but also a freedom for. The eternal law, God’s governance of the created world, is law in a rather different sense than natural, human, or divine law; it does not, accordingly, appear as a limitation of man’s freedom, for this eternal law is the very condition for the existence and subsistence of man and his world. As for the natural law—it can, indeed, appear as a limitation, as the negative of freedom: for the natural law directs man to an end, and every act of directing is concomitantly a restriction of the scope of what can be chosen, or chosen in freedom from some penalty. 16 And yet, it does not take much effort to see the sense in which the natural law is in fact not the negative, but rather the condition, of freedom: for to say that man has a natural end toward which he is directed by the natural law is to give a directionality to freedom—not to restrict it absolutely, but to orient it. What appears at first blush to be a negation of freedom, reveals itself to be the condition for freedom’s having any significance beyond that of mere willfulness or arbitrariness, or mere yielding to inclination. Man, in relation to the natural law, is free for the sake of the possibility of attaining his natural end; the law is not the negation of his freedom, but the condition of his freedom’s having meaning. As Kant would make plain centuries later, freedom is patently not being left to one’s immediate impulses and inclinations, but being elevated —in Kant’s case, by the moral law—above such immediate inclinations. And the natural law serves a similar purpose here: freedom cannot be understood as a directionless willing of whatever immediately appeals to the willing agent, but as the freedom from such immediate inclinations for the sake of the attainment of one’s natural end. 16 Precisely what penalties might be included in the natural law is a question beyond the scope of this paper; but I would suggest, at least, that the troubled conscience might be at least part of such a penalty. That a man can more or less escape the pangs of conscience is merely an indication that man’s nature is fallen, and that thus there is a discrepancy between the is and the ought of the working out of the penalties and punishments included in the natural law. This discrepancy, as we shall see, is partly corrected by human law, and fully corrected by divine law. 7 Human law too aims at enabling man to attain his natural end, in the mode of the common good. And so, like natural law, it can appear both as the negation of freedom and also, at a higher level, as the condition of freedom. And at the level of human law, law can begin in earnest to appear as a constitutive element of freedom: 17 for if freedom, minimally defined, is the capacity of a man to be subject to praise or blame, then implicit in the definition of freedom is the idea of the one to whom one is held accountable. If the natural law represents an intimation that man is accountable to his own nature—even if this accountability frequently lacks its proper sanctions—then the human law represents the level at which such sanctions are, for the most part, actually imposed: for human law is not law properly speaking if its sanctions do not serve to promote the common good. We can see in this connection that implicit, or at least intimated, in our minimal definition of freedom is the idea of the common good: for if freedom, minimally, is the capacity to be held accountable, then the “to whom” of accountability is included in the notion of freedom; and the “to whom” of accountability implies that the individual’s whims are not identical with the good, but that some fuller good incorporates and qualifies the value of individual goods. The “individual good,” as Thomas puts it, “is impossible without the common good.” 18 If all this is the case, then clearly the divine law, God’s revealed commandments directing man to his supernatural end, can be seen even more clearly to be a constitutive element of human freedom properly understood. For if the minimal definition of freedom includes the “to whom” of accountability, clearly the ultimate term of this “to whom,” at least in Thomist 17 Cf., G.W.F. Hegel, History of Philosophy, vol. 3, Medieval and Modern Philosophy, trans. Haldane and Simson (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press,1995), 401-2: “Man is free, this is certainly the substantial nature of man; and not only is this liberty not relinquished in the state, but it is actually in the state that it is first realised. The freedom of nature, the gift of freedom, is not anything real; for the state is the first realisation of freedom.” 18 ST, ii-ii, q.47, a.10, ad.2. 8 thinking, is the God who is not only man’s judge, but also his ultimate good.19 Indeed, it is at this moment—in considering the divine law—that we see the beginnings of a transition from the language of law to the language of grace. For the divine law instructs man how he ought to behave to merit divine favor; 20 but man in his fallen state cannot merit his own salvation, and so, while he still has the freedom to be praised and blamed, his capacity for blameworthiness, it would seem, rather exceeds his capacity for praiseworthiness. The divine law, then, is the first intimation of that grace that will reconcile sinners to their God—for without grace directing men back toward their supernatural end, which is, after all, the end for which they are really meant, then man’s freedom is, at the fundamental level, really only a capacity to be blamed.21 To state the matter differently: we saw in our consideration of natural and human law that the notion of accountability-to is included implicitly in the minimal conception of freedom. At the level of the natural law, this accountability is frequently unfulfilled, for the corrective force of the natural law is minimal; at the level of human law, this accountability is more fully achieved, for human law has teeth. But human law is adequate only to direct the outward acts of man, and frequently fails even in enforcing these outward acts—and it is for this reason that the divine law (but especially the New Law) is required: to overcome the chasm between the to whom of accountability and the actual achievement of this accountability at the level of the individual.22 The divine law, we 19 See, in this connection Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971), 104-5: Lonergan understands God as the fulfillment of man’s tendency toward self-transcendence at the intellectual, moral, and religious levels. 20 ST, i-ii, q.91, a.4. 21 See especially, ST, i-ii, q.100, a.10, where Aquinas considers whether man can “dispose himself to possess charity.” But cf., ST, i-ii, q.114, a.2. 22 Ibid., i-ii, q.91, a.4: “But man is not competent to judge of interior movements, that are hidden, but only of exterior acts, which appear; and yet for the perfection of virtue it is necessary for man to conduct himself aright in both kinds of acts.” Moreover, “human law cannot punish or forbid all evil deeds: since while aiming at doing away with all evils, it would do away with many good things, and would hinder the advance of the common good, which is necessary for human intercourse.” 9 might say, is the fulfillment of the implicit orientation of human freedom—it is definitive accountability, but also definitive freedom from fallen nature—inclinations, passions, bad habits— and freedom for the attainment of everlasting life through grace. The divine law, as we said, is the first intimation of grace, for it is the first drawing of the human individual beyond his natural end, to the supernatural end which properly befits him. In the foregoing, then, we have seen, first, the way in which freedom and law, and freedom and grace, can appear as antithetical, the one being the limiting condition of the other; and through a fuller consideration of the relationship of these ideas, we have seen the way in which the minimal conception of freedom from which we began is modified and transformed by being considered in light of Thomas’ discussions of law and grace. In the last analysis, we found, implicit even in the minimal notion of freedom, an orientation, a “teleology,” if you will, in the human person: even starting from the minimal notion of freedom, we were able to see the way in which law introduces definitively the “to whom” of accountability, and its ultimate term— namely God—while grace appears as the completion of human freedom that allows the individual to attain the end for which he is made, but to which his nature is, through his own sin, inadequate. Implicit in Aquinas’ discussions of law and grace is a notion of freedom somewhat fuller, somewhat more expansive, than the rather brief and cursory description of freedom given in the Treatise on Man. Certainly, this is no existentialist notion of freedom—my aim is not to suggest that, by digging deeply enough, we can turn Aquinas into Sartre. Rather, it is to suggest that the conception of freedom which can be taken away from Thomas is that of an oriented, self-transcending freedom, a freedom that is actualized, represented, and exemplified in the free selfgiving of Jesus himself—that grace which makes all things new.23 23 See Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, trans. J.R. Foster (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2004), 281-3. 10 Works cited and consulted. Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologica. Dominican trans. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1981. Augustine. On the Free Choice of the Will. Trans. Anna S. Benjamin and L.H. Hackstaff. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, 1964. Buber, Martin. I and Thou. Trans. Walter Kaufmann. New York: Touchstone, 1996. Gilson, Etienne. The Spirit of Medieval Philosophy. Trans. A.H.C. Downes. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991. Lonergan, Bernard. Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000. ———. Insight. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992. ———. Method in Theology. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971. ———. Understanding and Being. Ed. Elizabeth A. and Mark D. Morelli. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990. ———. Verbum: Word and Idea in Aquinas. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997. Maritain, Jacques. The Degrees of Knowledge. Trans. Gerald B. Phelan. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press,1995. Rahner, Karl. Hearer of the Word. Trans. Joseph Donceel. New York: Continuum, 1994. Ratzinger, Joseph. Introduction to Christianity. Trans. J.R. Foster. San Francisco: Ignatius, 2004. Voegelin, Eric. The New Science of Politics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987.