Thomas on the Literalness of Christ and the Interpretation of Scripture (January 2019)

Aquinas Day Lecture, Thomas Aquinas College, Santa Paula California, 28 January 2019

St. Thomas Aquinas, by Fra Angelico

[It is true what Paschal says: The last thing one settles in writing a work is what one should put in first.[i]]

I would like to dedicate this time together to exploring some aspects of Saint Thomas’ work as a commentator on Scripture. This is not a topic often broached in courses on Saint Thomas’s thought. And if it is discussed it is usually in a passing nod to article 10 of the first question of the Summa. Now that is a very interesting article, but I do not think we can grasp its significance within the overall aims of the Summa Theologiae nor within the overall work of Thomas the theologian without looking at how Thomas actually handled Scripture in his Scriptural lectures and commentaries. It is always good to remember that lecturing on Scripture texts was Thomas’ main occupation, his day job if you will.

My modest aim today is to encourage you to look to the commentaries on Scripture in order to better understand the vision of Saint Thomas. Thomas’s vision was profoundly Christological, and his Christology was profoundly Scriptural. One of the things we will see today is Thomas’ intense interest in the literal sense of the Scriptures. This must be understood as more than an academic and interpretive exercise. It is directly related to the wider ecclesial interest, especially noteworthy in the mendicant movements, in the literal following of Christ. This was part of the reform movements of the 12th and 13th Centuries, and a hallmark of the charismatic influence of both Saint Francis and Saint Dominic.

I.               The Literalness of Christ the WORD:

I will start with Thomas’ commentary on the Letter to the Hebrews. His exposition of that letter is a beautiful expression of Thomas’ robust exegetical mind. It is also a text that had been somewhat neglected by both philosophers and theologians. This may have to do with the fact that within the commentaries on the Pauline corpus, Thomas’ commentary on Hebrews presents unique textual difficulties; it is transmitted to us through two interpolated reportationes.[ii] This is vexing to the reader for reasons I need not go into here. The first lecture on chapter one, the received text reports Thomas commenting on the sense of the first verse:

In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our fathers through the prophets; in these last days, he spoke to us through a son, whom he made heir of all things and through whom he created the universe […]

Thomas uses the occasion to explain that God’s speaking is first of all the Father’s eternal generation of the Word. This eternal conceptum is, in fact, further expressed in three ways: First in creation, secondly in the revelations to the angels, the saints and the prophets of what lays hidden in the WORD, and thirdly in the Incarnation itself. Within this three-fold movement of expression that issues from the eternal WORD, only the latter two, Thomas says, revelation and Incarnation, have the character of a word, properly speaking.

Thomas says explicitly that this is because the latter two are ordered ad manifestationem.  Both are a kind of opening up of what is inside the mind and heart of God; and both are directed to knowers capable of receiving the manifestation.

The first expression, he says, namely creation, is not ordered to manifestation but rather to being, and thus does not have the character of a word spoken. It is never said in Scripture, Thomas notes, that God speaks by creating creatures, but rather that he is known by creating them: numquam dicitur, quod Deus loquatur creando creaturas, sed quod cognoscatur. Rom. I, 20: invisibilia Dei etc,...[iii]  In short, creation is an act of the Word, but it is a speaking (Let there be light) producing something that is not quite a word.

This way of describing reality puts into play the existence of knowers other than God, namely angels and human beings. Because even if Scripture does not ever say God produced a kind of word by creating creatures, it does say that he is known in this creative act. Creation is capable, and in the divine wisdom was meant to convey something beyond itself, to other knowers. We might say that this expressive power of created being, in the long run, is fairly meager, for although it can express beyond itself, it never quite allows us to know the who behind all the whats of creation.

When moving from expression to word, Thomas describes how God’s speaking ad manifestationem makes known more about the speaker than what his created works convey. What characterizes this “more” made known by words is the manifestation of God’s own interior intentionality. This is equivalent to saying that God’s speaking to angels and prophets is variously ordered ad cognitionem sapientiae divinae.

Thomas thus preserves the word “word” as an intentional revelation of a prior intellectual understanding, by its nature interior to the speaker, to another intellectual being. Thomas, not surprisingly, refers in this context to Augustine’s discussion of the verbum vocis being a manifestation of the prior Verbum cordis. The Incarnation, in this analogy, is the singularly perfect self-expression to us of the Verbum cordis of the Father.[iv]

What is implicit in this account, unspoken we could say, is that we human beings are capable of putting words together to describe expressions, that is to say, realities that are not words. This is the primordial grandeur of the human creation. Our first words are words about what is. And when it comes to other persons, our words are about who the what is.

Apparently, when speaking to human beings, the only way available to God is that of adaptation to our mode of understanding things. And this involves adaptation to the way signaled by our own prior exercise of the speaking power, which in turn derives from our interaction with created things and other speaking human beings.

But to speak of God having to adapt to our way of speaking, while true, is not the most fortuitous way to say this. It is more accurate to describe Thomas’ wisdom here by saying creation was conceived originally in the WORD precisely to serve as the gentle medium of God’s speaking to us about what lies hidden in his heart, the verbum cordis. Creation is the language God conveniently uses to address us because he made us word capable beings who already interact and put words on creation.

Now then, the sensible, intelligible and imaginal species granted to the prophets are communications conveyed by God using images drawn from our experience of creation and specified by Him to say something about Himself, God the speaker. Part of what God speaks has to do with the deeper rationes governing creation of all things ad esse in the first place.

Thus, the interpersonal use of wordy images to say something to each other makes it possible for God to specify created knowables to say something about Himself to us. Think of Hosea 11:4:

Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, who took them in my arms; I  drew them with human cords, with bands of love; I fostered them like one who raises an infant to his cheeks; Yet, though I stooped to feed my child, they did not know that I was their healer.

We have to have had some interaction with cords and bands to understand their relation to love, and we have to have some concept of familial fostering to understand that God is saying something about himself beyond what our human interactions can express. Again, in the divine wisdom, creation is the medium through which God can speak this word to us.

Which brings us at length to how Thomas describes the Incarnation in this context. He reserves a particular phrase for describing the Word Incarnate, viewed precisely as Word. His coming in the flesh is ordered ad expressam manifestationem. With delightful austerity of words, Thomas says of the WORD: Et se nobis expresse manifestavit.[v] The adverb expresse for Thomas implies a kind of literal directness. We will see this word again later. God expressed Himself literally; Jesus is the historically literal expression of the divine wisdom. Thus, it is essential to Catholic Christology to profess that the Second Person of the Trinity literally acts and expresses himself through his sanctified humanity. Thus, for example, when Scripture says Jesus was angry at the hardness of heart of the Pharisees, it is true to say that God’s anger was literally manifested in and through the Son’s humanity. Interpretavit se nobis, we could say: He translated Himself to us, in a language we could understand. That literal language is the humanity of Christ.

Human nature is a created expression of image and likeness, but by the Incarnation the human creation is elevated to become a word. And the concrete human nature of Christ becomes the word addressed by God to us. Indeed, the whole of Christ’s living, dying and rising (the acta et passa mentioned in the Summa) is creation becoming the most expressive, literal word from God to us.

In short, we could say that neither things nor persons could ever tell us how much love sustains the existence of all that is were it not for the WORD made flesh who in the flesh and in time showed us his heart.

II.  A Literal Sense Controversy

At this point I would draw your attention to Thomas’ commentary on the Psalms, probably the last work of his teaching life.[vi] The prologue to this commentary shows us Thomas devoting not a little effort to deal with an errant understanding of the literal sense of Scripture. I hope to show that his interest here is directly related to protecting the literalness of Christ’s teaching and example, and to accounting for the Old Testament as primarily prophetic and intentionally preparatory in nature. The principal antagonist in this dense discussion of erroneous expositional procedure is Theodore of Mopsuestia.  

Concerning the mode of exposition, it must be noted that in the Psalter, as in [the exposition of] the other prophets, we ought to avoid one error condemned in the Fifth Synod.  Theodore of Mopsuestia, indeed, said that in Sacred Scripture and the Prophets, nothing is expressly said about Christ, but rather [these words were said] about certain other things, and, in fact, they [i.e. these words said about certain other things] adapted to Christ.  Like, [that text of] Psalm 21, [19]:they divided among themselves my vestments, etc.[is said] not about Christ, but literally said about David. This mode [of exposition] was condemned in that Council, and whoever asserts such a thing in expounding the Scriptures is a heretic.[vii]

Now this is fascinating. Theodore of Mopsuestia’s teaching on Scriptural interpretation was sparsely and vaguely known in Thomas’ time. In fact, Thomas may be the first theologian of the High Middle Ages to reference it at all, or in such detail. His references to it were likely made possible by his personal quest for reliable texts stemming from the patristic period; that personal quest is well attested to in the abundant citations of the Greek Fathers in such works as the Catena Aurea, the Contra Errorum Graecorum, and the Summa Theologiae itself. Some were probably Greek texts recently translated into Latin, others older Latin translations discovered in monastic, papal or episcopal archives. In addition to the description of Theodore in the commentary on the Psalms, Thomas references Theodore’s error also in his expositions of the Gospel of Matthew and of the Gospel of John, both late commentaries. In other words, Thomas’ awareness of and his concerns about Theodore of Mopsuestia are late elements in his teaching career.

The reference to the determinations of “the fifth synod” clearly identifies the authority for the question at hand with the Second Council of Constantinople. Thomas likely reviewed documents surrounding Constantinople II and documents prepared by Pope Vigilius both before and after the Council’s decrees.  In addition to the Acta of the Council, with the accompanying excerpts from Theodore’s writings, the Latin tradition preserved particular texts of Theodore’s writings about the prophets, together with point by point anathemas by Pope Vigilius in the Constitutum Vigilii.[viii]

In the history leading up to the Council, the Constitutum Vigilii was issued by the Pope in 553 in an effort to condemn certain errors in Theodore’s writings, without condemning him personally in posthumous fashion.  The Council did, in fact, condemn him posthumously, and anathematized his writings; the Pope subsequently recognized the Council’s decrees. The Constitutum of Pope Vigilius contains some sixty Latin excerpts from the writings of Theodore, and includes texts from his notes on particular Psalm verses.[ix]  The Latin texts certainly derive from the same source as those contained in the Council’s acta.  Leontius of Byzantium is recognized as the translator.[x] The Constitutum Vigilii proves singularly important, however, because the Pope offers a point by point explication and condemnation of Theodore’s texts, something not found in the Conciliar decrees themselves. Similarities between the Pope’s characterization of the texts before him, and Thomas’s characterization of Theodore’s teaching on adaptation can be discerned.  To go into this discernible similarity would be different and much longer lecture.

The error attributed to Theodore involves two major aspects: First that he denied the prophets ever intended to say anything literally about Christ. (nihil expresse dicitur). To say this in terms related to what we saw earlier in the commentary on Hebrews chapter 1: Nothing was expressly said in the Old Testament about the One who is the Incarnate and thus expressly manifested WORD of the Father. As you can imagine this undermines any understanding of the Old Testament as words from the Word, preparing for the Word’s expressed manifestation.

Thus, Theodore accounts for New Testament references to the prophets as a work of textual adaptations. “Adaptation” is a bad word for Thomas, if it is used to describe how Old Testament texts can be made to refer to New Testament realities. What is adaptation? The short answer is that it implies that the Old Testament authors did not intend to refer to New Testament things, rather, New Testament authors appropriated the words at will: they made them fit.

Thomas gives an interesting elaboration on this point in his commentary on Matthew. Probably his earliest reference to Theodore the exegete, Thomas says the following about what adaptation implies:

And another was [the error] of Theodore saying that nothing of those things which are brought forth from the Old Testament are literally said about Christ, but they are adapted, as [for example] when they bring forth that [text] of Virgil:  recalling such things, he hung suspended, and affixed he remained.[xi]  Now, this [text of Virgil] is adapted concerning Christ; and next [it is said], that [the text of Matthew] that it might be fulfilled, ought to be thus exposed, as if the Evangelist were saying and this can be adapted.  Against which [can be adduced the text] from the last chapter of Luke:  It was fitting that all those things which were written in the Law of Moses, and the Prophets, and the Psalms about me be fulfilled.[xii]

Now, stick with me here: Thomas is saying that adaptation involves appropriating words away from the author’s intention, like when some people read in the Aeneid that Anchises’ “pendebat and fixusque” (he hung suspended and was affixed) can be applied it to Christ. Martin  Morard has identified the source of Thomas’s example.[xiii]  Thomas seems to be making a passing reference (probably from memory) of a letter from Saint Jerome to Saint Paulinus of Nola. In that letter St Jerome severely rebukes those who manipulate classical pagan texts to make them refer to Christ. The following appears in Jerome’s Epistola LIII to Paulinus of Nola:

[Those] who come boldly to the Sacred Scriptures after secular letters, […] whatever might be said there they think to be the Law of God, nor do they think it worthwhile what the prophets or what the Apostles think, but rather they fit (aptant) the incongruous testimonies to their own sense, as if it were a great thing, and not a most vicious thing to deprive a way of speaking of its sense, and to drag a writing according to their own will to a repugnant sense.  As if we could not read Homeric verses and Virgilian verses and not also call Maronus a Christian without Christ, because he wrote […] the words of the Savior on the Cross:  talia perstabat memorans fixusque manebat. These are childish things, and similar to a game of circles.[xiv]

Interestingly, Jerome’s letter censures the adaptations of Proba, the well known Roman matron and convert who herself received lengthy responses to her letters from Augustine.  Jerome rebukes any attempt to offer as legitimate a reading of a secular text which prescinds completely from the intention of a classical author; the activity is an active one, involving imposing (by will of the reader) something at variance with the original author’s intentional use of words.  Jerome of course knows the context of Anchises’ statement, and is quite sure that there was no intention to speak– even in a vague way– about crucifixion.  Thus, for Jerome, the practice of reading Virgil in this way involves a re-figuration of the words’ contextual sense away from one of Anchises’ resoluteness. The words used by Virgil take on a significantly different meaning through the transfer of context.  

Through this example Thomas understands that adaptation involves a radical manipulation of words based upon verbal ambiguities and the equivocal use of language.  When “they” adjust the text of Virgil to signify something about Christ, they do something at variance with what Virgil himself intended to signify through the words he used.  The text is adjusted with no real reference to what the poet intended.  To say, therefore, that the Apostles and Evangelists adapted prophetic texts to Christ implicates them in a falsification of textual integrity of the kind Jerome attributed to Proba and her circle.

Ok, so clearly a Scripture reader, in this case an Apostle, cannot expose a prior prophetic text by prescinding from the intention of the author. To do so does violence to the text because it separates words from the things the author wanted to talk about. But here is the point: when the New Testament speaks of the prophets, it cannot be doing so in the way Jerome ascribes to childish Roman matrons reading Christ into Virgil. So what are the New Testament authors doing when they quote the Old Testament and use the common NT phrase: “This was to fulfill what was said by the prophet,… etc.” ?

Countering the claim that the New Testament authors intended to say that the prophetic words of Isaiah could conveniently be adapted to signify something about Christ, Thomas (in the commentary on Matthew) offers the text from Luke 24, 44:

[…] Against which [can be adduced the text] from the last chapter of Luke:  It was fitting that all those things which were written in the Law of Moses, and the Prophets, and the Psalms about me be fulfilled. And it should be known that in the Old Testament there are certain things which refer to Christ, and are said about him alone, like that [text which says] Behold a virgin shall conceive in the womb, and bear a son, Isaiah 7, [14]; and also that [text] Psalm 21, [2]:  God, my God, look upon me, why have you forsaken me? etc.  And if anyone should put a different literal sense, he would be a heretic, and the heresy is condemned.[…][xv]

The sense of this citation moves the argument to another level:  Matthew could not have intended to say that “the text can be thus adapted,” because he only conveyed what he learned from Christ, namely that “all these things” written in the Law, the Prophets and the Psalms were written about Him. The argument against Theodore thus is reduced to a Christological error. The Lord Jesus knows what the intentions of the Old Testament authors are, and it is his knowledge, confided to the authors of the New Testament, that sustains the propriety of New Testament citation of the Old. It is the literal historicity of the WORD made flesh (expresse manifestavit se), the One who spoke through the prophets prior to his Incarnation, that gives the Apostles (and the Church) access to Old Testament intentions.

III.         The Rule of Saint Jerome:

After addressing the error attributed to Theodore of Mopsuestia, Thomas turns to a principle of exposition he calls the Rule of Saint Jerome. Bear with me as I read it to you in full:

Blessed Jerome, therefore, [in his commentary] on Ezechiel handed on to us a rule which we will use in the Psalms:  namely that concerning things done, they are to be exposed thus, as figuring something about Christ or the Church.  As, indeed, it is said in 1 Cor. 10, [11]:  all these things happened to them in figure.  Prophecies, moreover, were sometimes said about things which were of the time then, but [the prophecies] were not principally said about those things, but, in fact, [the prophecies were said about those things] inasmuch as they are figures of future things: and thus the Holy Spirit ordered that when such things are said, certain things are inserted which exceed the condition of that thing done, so that the soul might be raised to the thing figured.  Like in [the book of] Daniel many things are said about Antiochus in the figure of the anti-Christ:  hence, there certain things are read which were not completed in him, they will be fulfilled, indeed in the anti-Christ; as also certain things are read about the kingdom of David and Solomon, which were not to be fulfilled in the reign of such men, but were to be fulfilled in the kingdom of Christ, in whose figure they were said:  as [for example] Psalm 71, [2]:  God, your judgment etc. which is according to the title about the reign of David and Solomon; and [the author] places something in it that exceeds its capacity, namely [in verses 7] justice will arise in his days  and abundance of peace, until the moon be taken away:  and again [in verse 8], he will rule from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends [of the earth] etc.  Therefore, this Psalm is expounded about the reign of Solomon, inasmuch as it is a figure of the reign of Christ, in which all the things there said will be completed.[xvi]

This proposed regula has two distinct parts and is designed to counter Theodore’s principal errors by re-casting the issue of signification. Thomas here aims to address the wider issue of authorial intent by discussing how both the words and deeds in the Old Testament intentionally refer to realities in the New Testament.  He explicitly links this account to the tradition of the Fathers, specifically through the authority of Saint Jerome. The mode of exposition appropriate to the sacred text, therefore, has its own kind of authority, rooted in Thomas’s sense of the consuetudo ecclesiae. Thomas works here to integrate the newly discovered determinations of Constantinople II into the distinctly developed tradition of Latin Scriptural exposition.

By way of quick summary of the regula, we should first note that not every signifier in the Old Testament signifies the New through the literal sense. The Pauline teaching in 1 Corinthians 10, (All these things happened to them in figure), opens the issue by noting that the great bulk of the pre-New Testament Canon is a narrative of literal history and is embedded in that history. As it unfolds, the history itself aims to Christ and, and at the same time the history figures his identity and mission. The general figuration is prophetic and applies to the literal history. This is what we could call the classic spiritual sense of the Old Testament: persons and events in the OT bear an anticipatory likeness to NT persons and events.

Thus, for example, the literal accounts of Moses interceding with God for Israel’s sake after the incident of the Golden calf literally and historically prepares for Christ’s coming by divine pedagogical action at that time: God, after all, desires a people free from idolatry, and this in itself prepared for Christ. Yet the history also pre-figures what Christ’s mission will entail. Christ the mediator once revealed is revealed to have been figured in Moses. The text is literally intended of Moses; and Moses Himself figures, shows likeness, to the coming Christ.

This initial principle encompasses the whole of the intentional signification found in things done, that is to say the entirety of those res recounted in the Old Testament.  The articulation accounts for the relation of res ut figura to res figurata established through the Lord God’s expansive and significant accommodation of Israel’s history toward the Incarnation.[xvii]

The “Rule of Jerome”, though, extends also to address prophetic events and discourses that have both an Old Testament historical referent and a literal sense extending to Christ. First, let me point out that I am persuaded that in the received text on the Psalms, the reference to Jerome on Ezekiel is incorrect. There is internal evidence to support this, evidence I cannot go into here.[xviii] Instead, I would argue that what Thomas says here ,..

[…] Prophecies, moreover, were sometimes said about things which were of the time then, but [the prophecies] were not principally said about those things, but, in fact, [the prophecies were said about those things] inasmuch as they are figures of future things: […][xix]

… corresponds more precisely the following text from Jerome’s exposition of Hosea 1, 3:[xx]

The prophets promised about the coming of Christ after many centuries and the calling of the gentiles in this way, in order that they might not overlook the present time, lest they seem not to teach the convoked assembly [of their time] about the things that occur through their fault, on account of the other [future realities], but instead seem to [neglect the present] and rejoice about obscure and future things.[xxi]

This particular text from Jerome focuses specifically upon the prophet’s intention to signify both the present historical res and the future historical res with the same words.  In Osee, 1, 3, in fact, enunciates a principle quite decisive in determining the modus exponendi of prophetic texts that involve reference to OT history and yet are understood by the New Testament as literally referring to Christ. 

To do justice to Old Testament history and to avoid the error of Theodore, Thomas thus articulates a specific principle by which this kind of signification can be discerned. Call it the principle of exceeded conditions. Speaking summarily, if the words attendant to the OT history exceede the condition of the histories, then the exceeded description itself extends to a literal application to later realities. Thomas’s intention here is to permit this aspect of Jerome’s rule to counter Theodore’s nihil expresse dicitur in a way that allows for literal reference to Christ yet does not altogether preclude a genuine OT historical res at play in the prophecy.

The verbal description exceeding the condition of an Old Testament reality corresponds more exactly to that which the history figures; this does not, however, suggest that the figure is itself superfluous to the mode of signification.  For one thing, Solomon or Antiochus do not cease being historical res simply because they are presented to us on occasion through descriptions verbally designed to set in relief how much they– considered as figures– fall historically short of the future reality they signify. The immediate historical res addressed by the prophet requires the expositor’s attention because without knowledge of it, the very fact that the prophetic description exceeds the context would escape significant notice.  

That the prophetic description does in fact exceed the condition of the earlier history indicates to the reader that the littera of the description– at least in those parts exceeding local circumstances– intentionally signify New Testament history expresse through the words. By means of this kind of inspection of the words and the Old Testament res, discernment of expresse and ad litteram signification is possible. In the end, this is Thomas’s most sophisticated analysis of textual signification; it amplifies the traditional categorization according to literal and spiritual significations, for it contains elements of both. The OT history signifies, but the description expressly points beyond the OT history.

Why does Thomas think it necessary to expand the discussion of Theodore’s error beyond the immediate affirmation that some Old Testament texts do in fact signify Christ ad litteram? Partly, I think, because Thomas understands Theodore to have focused his interpretation of the Old Testament texts solely in terms of the immediate historical context surrounding the articulated words.  There appears to be no room for any other kind of signification in Theodore’s teaching: in Psalm 21, either David spoke about his persecution by Absolom, or he spoke about Christ. Since for Theodore it was obvious that David had Absolom on his mind when composing Psalm 21, it could not be that Christ could be understood in that text except through an adaptation. Theodore views Old Testament intentionality to be confined to one historical thing only.  

Theodore thus sounds to Thomas like a strict Aristotelian when it comes to textual signification. Indeed, Theodore sounds a lot like the fifth objector in Quodlibetum VII, q. 6, a. 1, that is to say, an Aristotelian that cannot admit of more than a single referent per signifier. Thomas dealt then (the late 1250’s) with the issue by noting that Jerome on Hosea rightly says that nothing prohibits a single deed or thing from having several related senses, inasmuch as one is a figure of the other.[xxii]

Ironically, Theodore reads Psalm 21 the way Jerome says Virgil should be read: solely in terms of the immediate historical intentionality. The point Thomas makes, though, is that the Christian cannot read Isaiah or David the way Jerome reads Virgil for the simple reason that God can do what Virgil cannot, namely accommodate history to signify his intentions. Related figurative senses are present in the thing described. Thus, Theodore, in addition to having erred in his appreciation for the intentionality of prophetic texts uttered about Christ alone, also lacks an understanding of the unified intentionality governing the whole of the Old Testament aimed toward Christ. Doubtless, Thomas saw Theodore’s reading of Scripture as ultimately rooted in a Christological error. Theodore has no room for a  real relation between the facta of the Old Testament and the facta of the New; he has no room for the intentional governance of history by the WORD.  

IV.         CHRIST in Figure and the Figure in CHRIST

Figuration is an essential element within the Scriptural tradition, and in the Catholic tradition of Scriptural interpretation. Figuration is built into the Scriptural self-understanding itself. It concerns events that are intelligible in light of other events. “Moses, with his arms upheld”; “Israel, with unmoistened foot”; “As at Meribah, when they hardened their hearts”. The Old Testament itself depends on these kinds of historical invocations in order to understand its later historical moments. In the last books of the Old Testament, the invocation of the Exodus event in remarkably nuanced ways both interpret the later moments of Israel’s history, and expand Israel’s perception of the meaning of Israel’s foundational historical events. Later events are figured in the foundational event. The WORD, who authored the first Word-Event, guides the later prophetic tradition to its figurative amplifications. The self-understanding of the New Testament reads the prior figurative tradition as brought to clarity in the Paschal Mystery. At the Easter Vigil this interpretive dynamic is on full display.

Now then, throughout the commentary on the Psalms, Thomas respects and shows remarkable dexterity in locating, or in wanting to locate, the historical references in the Psalms: anything from the Exodus, to troubles with Absalom, thanksgiving for victory in battle, to psalms composed to accompany cultic worship, etc. After locating the history, Thomas then usually goes on to read those events as prefiguring something having to do with Christ. We could call this a discernment of the spiritual sense of the OT. This is not an exercise in seeking out fanciful allegories; rather it is rooted in a pre-critical theological conviction that Israel’s history was governed by a special providence, a grace that orders its signification in a way that is anticipatory of the final revelation of God’s historical intent in Christ. This serves as the basis for a Christian reading of the psalms that respects the history of the psalmists. Figuration, in this tradition, (and here I must insist Thomas is very much in the spirit of the Fathers) is rooted in history, not in words; in events understood a certain way, not in poetic allusions.

So what does it really mean to say that there is a literal historical New Testament sense in OT prophecy which also involves reference to OT historical events? To get a sense of Thomas’ response to such a question, let’s look at his particular commentary on Psalm 21, the celebrated Passion Psalm, the one cited by Christ himself from the Cross. Exposing the text, Thomas will not say that the history of David’s sufferings there expressed are a prefiguration of Christ. Nor will he allow that the literal sense refers to David, and the spiritual sense of the text refers to Christ. Given all we have seen in the treatment of Theodore of Mopsuestia and the Rule of Saint Jerome, this should not surprise us. Here is what Thomas says:

As was said above, as in the other prophets, also this one treats of certain things then present inasmuch as [those certain things] were figures of Christ, and which pertained to the prophecy itself.  And thus, sometimes some things are put forth [in the text] which pertain to Christ, which exceed, so to speak, the condition of the histories. And among others, specifically this psalm treats about the Passion of Christ.  And thus, this is its literal sense.  Hence, specifically He spoke this Psalm in the passion when He cried out Heli Heli Lammasabactani:  which is the same as God, my God, etc. as this Psalm begins.  And thus, granted this Psalm is said figuratively about David, nevertheless specifically it refers to Christ ad litteram.  And in the Synod of Toledo a certain Theodore of Mopsuestia, who exposed this Psalm about David ad litteram was condemned, and [he was condemned] on account of this and many other things.  And, thus, [this Psalm] is to be exposed about Christ. [xxiii]

Thomas explicitly places the issue of Psalm 21 within the same context governing the exposition of Psalm 71, as explained in the Prologue to the Psalter commentary; both involve discerning words which describe realities exceeding the immediate historical condition.  Neither text can be exposed primarily about the Old Testament figure.  The history narrated in the Psalm is not about David, it is about Christ. This is its literal sense. On this reading, David (the psalmist) has a vision of the Passion, and wrote of it. The psalmists own sufferings are secondarily referenced in the psalm, but only to the extent they are figured within Christ’s sufferings. David saw himself in Christ; he did not see Christ in himself.

Now, you may think this is a distinction without a difference. But in fact, it sustains a whole Catholic understanding of spiritual progress. It is more perfect to see oneself figured in Christ than it is to see Christ figured in oneself. This is because Christ is the supreme locus of intelligibility, and I understand myself better if I see myself figured in him. This is the distinction Thomas wishes to preserve: Israel’s history pre-figures New Testament events, yet the prophets had moments of imaginative vision with understanding that saw from afar the Christian history: they read the contemporary events they lived figured within the history of Christ: Prophets and Kings longed to see what you see, but did not see it.

Thomas is a theological witness to a truth of Catholic Faith, namely that after the full revelation of Christ’s historical appearance, the Church has access to the aim of history. Hence, all the faithful now have the capacity by spiritual instinct and knowledge of the Gospel to see themselves figured in Christ. This, together with the gift of the Spirit guiding our reception of the history of Christ, is what is new about the New Testament revelation. And this is why the Fathers of the Church, following Saint Paul, call the definitive revelation in Christ an “unveiling”. What is unveiled? The aim of human living and all of history. This is a datum in the tradition which witnesses to what then Cardinal Ratzinger called the laying bare of the intelligibility of history by the revelation of its end in Christ.[xxiv] For us who live after the foundational events of the Christian revelation, the figurations are clearer, though not yet perfectly so. The enigmas of the Apocalypse, for example, will remain until the end.

Thomas understands this unveiling of the supreme intelligible precisely in the terms we saw at the outset, namely the expresse manifestavit se of the Incarnation. The eternally generated WORD in the flesh literally and historically expresses what every human life and what all history is really about. What Thomas does here in exposing the text of Psalm 21 as literally about Christ and figuratively about David (effectively reversing the ordinary way of explicating figuration) is grant to David a perspective of vision that is equivalent to ours. We know the history of Christ as literal history, and can see ourselves in it.

Only in this context does the full theological weight of the spiritual or figurative senses of Scripture appear. In the literality of Christ the prior governance of Israel’s history is finally understood; this unveiling guides us to the right reading not just of the books of the OT, but of the history itself. Thomas occasionally uses the term ‘allegory” when referring to the spiritual reading of the OT, but he prefers the term “mystice”; the mystical sense is what is figured within the literal history of Christ. Thus, to state the matter briefly, the ecclesiological sense of a text is the figure of the Church present in the person of Christ; the moral sense of a text is the norm of Christian living present in Christ’s actions; the eschatological sense is the destiny of the Christ as anticipatory of the final destiny of the human race.[xxv] All of this flows from the super-intelligibility of the eternally generated Word, who expressly reveals in the flesh that the intelligibility of history is the Word, a person who creates all things, sustains all things and aims all things to the innermost recesses of the Father’s heart.

***

Thus, and with this I will conclude, we see the transparency of the ecclesial tradition of reading Scripture to the Eucharistic sacrifice itself. In the Sacred Liturgy the sacramental re-presentation of the historical founding Word-event of the Passion, death and Resurrection of Christ comes after the reading of the Scriptures. The Paschal Sacrifice is thus positioned to unveil the fundamental ratio through which the Scriptures just read are rightly understood. The literal body of Christ appears after the worded Scriptural explications, just as the Incarnation follows and clarifies the prior Scriptural pedagogy. And yet the Scriptures read prior to the Eucharistic Sacrifice guide our understanding of what is to be enacted, just as the Scriptural record prepared the way for faith in the Incarnation. It is a reciprocal pedagogy of grace. What concerns Saint Thomas throughout his discussions of Scriptural signification is accounting theologically for how this cohesive reciprocating movement towards the literal expressiveness of God in Christ happens textually and historically.

Christian liturgy and theology breathes of figuration or it dies. Figuration flows to Christ and flows from him. And the root of all figurative meaning is the literal Gospel history of Christ, culminating in the Cross and Resurrection. The Cross, literally understood in light of his Rising, is the supreme intelligible of God’s heart made literally manifest. It is both plainly visible and at the same time a kind of brightness that comes to us under cover of darkness. The Christological truth revealed in Scripture and enacted—made plain and made present– in the Eucharistic intervention is the basis for understanding rightly all subsequent figurative readings, be they moral, ecclesial, or eschatological. And the aim is that we see our lives figured within Christ thus plainly manifested. Of the Eucharist as of the Incarnation itself, we can truly say: Se nobis expresse manifestavit.

Thank you for your kind attention.

+Daniel E. Flores

Bishop of Brownsville

(2019)

+++

[i] Pensées, 19: La dernière chose qu’on trouve en faisant un ouvrage, est de savoir celle qu’il faut mettre la première.

[ii] The Marietti printed editions, and the electronic versions of the Corpus Thomisticum (recognovit ac instruxit Enrique Alarcón automato electronico, Pompaelone ad Universitatis Studiorum Navarrensis aedes a MM A.D.) convey this text to us most readily, and make note of this feature of the textual tradition.

[iii] All translations of Thomas’s commentaries on Scripture utilized in this lecture from Latin to English, are my own. Yo soy el culpable. With the exception of the Commentary on the Psalms, the Latin texts used are from the Marietti editions and the Corpus Thomisticum. Super ad Hebraeos, cap. 1, lect. 1: Prima autem expressio, scilicet in creatione, non ordinatur ad manifestationem, sed ad esse, Sap. I creavit Deus ut essent omnia. Cum ergo expressio non habeat rationem locutionis nisi prout ordinatur ad manifestationem, manifestum est, quod illa expressio non potest dici locutio, et ideo numquam dicitur, quod Deus loquatur creando creaturas, sed quod cognoscatur. Rom. I, 20: invisibilia Dei per ea quae facta sunt, intellecta conspiciuntur

[iv]Super ad Hebreos, cap. 1, lect. 1: Tertio per carnis assumptionem, de qua dicitur Io. I, 14: verbum caro factum est, et vidimus gloriam eius, et cetera. Et ideo dicit Augustinus, quod hoc modo se habet verbum incarnatum ad verbum increatum, sicut verbum vocis ad verbum cordis.

[v] Super ad Hebreos, cap. 1, lect. 1: Secunda vero expressio, quae est editio specierum in mente angelica, vel humana, ordinatur tantum ad cognitionem sapientiae divinae, et ideo potest dici locutio. Tertia vero, quae est per assumptionem carnis, ordinatur ad esse, et ad cognitionem, et ad expressam manifestationem, quia per assumptionem carnis, et verbum factum est homo, et nos in cognitionem Dei perfecit. . (Io. XVIII, 37: ad hoc natus sum, ut testimonium perhibeam veritati). Et se nobis expresse manifestavit. Bar. c. III, 38: post haec in terris visus est, et cum hominibus conversatus est. Sic ergo, licet Deus loquatur in novo et veteri testamento, perfectius tamen in novo nobis loquitur, quia ibi per revelationes in mentibus hominum, hic per incarnationem filii.

[vi] The Latin text of the Prologue derives from the Parme edition (In Psalmos, ed. Parmensis, t. XIV, 1863). This is the received text also utilized in the Corpus Thomisticum.

[vii] Super Psalmos, Prologus:  circa modum exponendi sciendum est, quod tam in psalterio quam in aliis prophetiis exponendis evitare debemus unum errorem damnatum in quinta synodo. theodorus enim mopsuestenus dixit, quod in sacra scriptura et prophetiis nihil expresse dicitur de christo, sed de quibusdam aliis rebus, sed adaptaverunt christo: sicut illud psalm. 21: diviserunt sibi vestimenta mea etc., non de christo, sed ad literam dicitur de david. hic autem modus damnatus est in illo concilio: et qui asserit sic exponendas scripturas, haereticus est. 

[viii] See See J. D. Mansi, Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, Florence: 1763. Vol. 9., Collatio IV, cols. 76-79.  These texts were preserved in the Collectio Avellana, Vigilius, Epist. 83, CSEL 35.  See Martin Morard, “Une source de saint Thomas d’Aquin:  le deuxième concile de Constantinople (553).”  Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques 81 (1997):  pp. 26 and 33.

[ix] A fair amount of discussion has taken place, and continues, concerning the reliability of the Latin excerpts preserved by the Council and by the Constitutum Vigilii.  Some have argued that the texts do not adequately convey the subtlety of Theodore’s teaching on prophecy, and that reconstructive work on the corpus of Theodore’s writings warrants a reconsideration of his actual teaching, considered distinctly from what Constantinople II ascribed to him.  Robert Devreese did considerable work in this area, as did the J. M. Vosté.  Vosté found confirmation of the Council’s judgement in the Syriac versions of Theodore’s work; Devreese considered the Syriac version not much more reliable, textually speaking, than the Latin excerpts.  De Margerie points out that Devreese seems inexplicably to have overlooked the fact that the Latin excerpts in the Collatio IVand Constitutum Vigilii are taken largely from Theodore’s comments on the Minor Prophets, and not from the Commentary on the Psalter.  He further suggests that the comments on the Minor Prophets are more explicitly errant than those in the Commentary on the Psalter.  For a review of the debate concerning the degree to which the excerpts in the Collatio IVand the Constitutum Vigilii fairly reflect Theodore of Mopsuestia’s teaching on Scriptural exegesis, see the following:  J.M.  Vosté, “L’Oeuvre Exégétique de Théodore de Mopsueste au IIa Concile de Constantinople,” Revue Biblique, 38 (1929), pp. 382-395 et 542-554; Robert Devreesse, “Par Quelles voies Nous sont Parvenus Les Commentaires de Théodore de Mopsueste?”  Revue Biblique 39 (1930) pp. 362-277; Pietro Parente, “Una riabilitazione de Teodoro Mopsuesteno,” Doctor Communis, 1950, pp. 3-15; Bertrand De Margerie, An Introduction to the History of Exegesis. Vol. I: The Greek Fathers, translated by Leonard Maluf, (Petersham, Massachusettes:  St. Bedes Publications, 1993) pp. 165-187.

[x] Vigilius prefaces the excerpts with a letter to the Emperor, from whose court in Constantinople the Latin translations were likely sent to the Pope.  The Latin version of Theodore’s writings in the Constitutum varies only in the most minor degree from that in the Collatio IV.  On Leontius of Byzantium see De Margerie,  The Greek Fathers, p. 177, n. 34.

[xi] Aeneid 2, 650.

[xii] Super Matthaeum, cp. 1, lc. 5,(Marietti no. 148):  alius fuit theodori dicentis, quod nihil eorum quae inducuntur de veteri testamento, sunt ad litteram de christo, sed sunt adaptata, sicut quando inducunt illud virgilii talia pendebat memorans, fixusque manebat hoc enim adaptatum est de christo; et tunc illud ut adimpleretur, debet sic exponi, quasi diceret evangelista: et hoc potest adaptari. contra quod lc. ult., 44: oportet impleri omnia quae scripta sunt in lege moysi, et prophetis, et psalmis de me.

[xiii] Morard locates the reference in Saint Jerome, Epistola LIII, 7, 2-3, to Paulinus of Nola, which, he notes, was variously transmitted through the tradition of the Vulgate manuscripts and the glosses.  See “Une Source,” pp. 32-33.  Morard is aware of Smalley’s reading, though he does not advert to it’s specifics.

[xiv] Jerome, Epistola LIII, 7, 2-3, (CSEL 54, pp. 453-454):  […] Qui si forte ad scripturas sanctas post saeculares litteras venerint […] quicquid dixerint, hoc legem Dei putant nec scire dignantur, quid prophetae, quid apostoli senserint, sed ad sensum suum incongrua aptant testimonia, quasi grande sit et non vitiosissimum dicendi genus depravare sententias et ad voluntatem suam scripturam trahere repugnantem.  Quasi non legerimus Homerocentonas et Vergiliocentonas ac non sic etiam Maronem sine Christo possimus dicere christianum, quia scripserit […] verba Salvatoris in cruce:  talia perstabat memorans fixusque manebat.  Puerilia sunt haec et circulatorum ludo similia. […]  Jerome’s use of the verbs aptant and trahere (almost 200 years before the controversies prompting the Consitutum Vigilii and the Collatio IV) might well have signaled to Thomas the analogy he perceives between the act of adapting Virgil and the way Theodore understood the Evangelists’ act of adapting the Old Testament prophecies.  See Morard, “Une Source,” p. 32.

[xv] Super Matthaeum, cp. 1, lc. 5, (Marietti no. 148): […] contra quod lc. ult., 44: oportet impleri omnia quae scripta sunt in lege moysi, et prophetis, et psalmis de me. […]  et sciendum quod in veteri testamento aliqua sunt quae referuntur ad christum, et de eo solo dicuntur, sicut illud ecce virgo in utero concipiet, et pariet filium, is. vii, 14; et illud ps. xxi, 2: deus, deus meus, respice in me, quare me dereliquisti? etc.. et si quis alium sensum litteralem poneret, esset haereticus, et haeresis damnata est.

[xvi]Super Psalmos,  Prologus:  beatus ergo hieronymus super ezech. tradidit nobis unam regulam quam servabimus in psalmis: scilicet quod sic sunt exponendi de rebus gestis, ut figurantibus aliquid de christo vel ecclesia. ut enim dicitur 1 cor. 10: omnia in figura contingebant illis. prophetiae autem aliquando dicuntur de rebus quae tunc temporis erant, sed non principaliter dicuntur de eis, sed inquantum figura sunt futurorum: et ideo spiritus sanctus ordinavit quod quando talia dicuntur, inserantur quaedam quae excedunt conditionem illius rei gestae, ut animus elevetur ad figuratum.  et ideo spiritus sanctus ordinavit quod quando talia dicuntur, inserantur quaedam quae excedunt conditionem illius rei gestae, ut animus elevetur ad figuratum.  sicut in daniele multa dicuntur de anthioco in figuram antichristi: unde ibi quaedam leguntur quae non sunt in eo completa, implebuntur autem in antichristo; sicut etiam aliqua de regno david et salomonis leguntur, quae non erant implenda in talium hominum regno, sed impleta fuere in regno christi, in cujus figura dicta sunt: sicut psal. 71: deus judicium etc. qui est secundum titulum de regno david et salomonis; et aliquid ponit in eo quod excedit facultatem ipsius, scilicet, orietur in diebus ejus justitia et abundantia pacis, donec auferatur luna: et iterum, dominabitur a mari usque ad mare, et a flumine usque ad terminos etc.. exponitur ergo psalmus iste de regno salomonis, inquantum est figura regni christi, in quo omnia complebuntur ibi dicta.

[xvii] Thomas often supports the general principal with a reference to 1 Corinthians 10, 11: Omnia in fugura contingebant illis.  See, for example, Secunda Secundae, q. 104, a. 2, c. Super ad Hebraeos 1, 5, articulates this general principle with the phrase […] quaedam vero etiam secundum quod sunt homines quidam, et istorum dicta de ipsis possunt exponi et de christo; sicut illud: deus, iudicium tuum regi da: quia illud potest convenire salomoni. 

[xviii] It is worth noting that an inquiry into the presence of the two lemma Hieronymus and Ezechiel in Busa.  Thomae Aquinatis Opera Omnia cum hypertextibus in CD-ROM, secunda editio,  (Milano:  Editoria Elettronica Editel, 1996) does not yield any other reference by Thomas to Jerome on Ezekiel. Yet, numerous references to Jerome on Hosea, in matter closely related to the issue at hand can be found.

[xix] See note 16 above for the Latin.

[xx] See in Quodlibetum VII, q. 6, a. 1, ad 5, a specific text from Jerome on Hosea is referenced. See also the presence of this text from Jerome in Prima Secundae, q. 102, a. 2, c.

[xxi] Jerome, In Osee Prophetam, I, i, 3.4; CCL, 76, p. 10, lines. 148-152:  Prophetae sic multa post saecula de aduentu Christi et uocatione gentium pollicentur, ut praesens tempus non neglegant, ne concionem ob aliud conuocatam non docere de his quae stant, sed de incertis ac futuris ludere uideantur. […].  De Margerie, writing in a broader context about Jerome’s exegetical approach, finds a similarly expressed principle in Jerome’s in Malachi, 1, 10; PL 25, 1551 B.  See The Latin Fathers, pp. 140-141. 

[xxii]The reference to Saint Jerome here, I think, is the one Thomas is thinking of in articulating the Rule of Jerome in the Psalms commentary. Quodlibetum VII, q. 6, a. 1, ad 5:  ad quintum dicendum, quod auctor principalis sacrae scripturae est spiritus sanctus, qui in uno verbo sacrae scripturae intellexit multo plura quam per expositores sacrae scripturae exponantur, vel discernantur. nec est etiam inconveniens quod homo, qui fuit auctor instrumentalis sacrae scripturae, in uno verbo plura intelligeret: quia prophetae, ut hieronymus dicit super osee, ita loquebantur de factis praesentibus, quod etiam intenderunt futura significare. unde non est impossibile simul plura intelligere, in quantum unum est figura alterius

[xxiii]In Psalmum 21, introduction:  sicut supra dictum est, sicut in aliis prophetis, ita hic agitur de aliquibus tunc praesentibus inquantum erant figura christi et quae ad ipsam prophetiam pertinebant. et ideo quandoque ponuntur aliqua quae ad christum pertinent, quae excedunt quasi virtutem historiarum. Et inter alia specialiter iste Psalmus agit de passione Christi. Et ideo hic est ejus sensus litteralis. Unde specialiter hunc Psalmum in passione dixit cum clamavit, Heli Heli lammasabactani: quod idem est quod Deus Deus meus etc. sicut hic Psalmus incipit. Et ideo licet figuraliter hic Psalmus dicatur de David, tamen specialiter ad litteram refertur ad Christum. Et in synodo Toletana quidam Theodorus Mopsuestenus, qui hunc ad litteram de David exponebat, fuit damnatus, et propter hoc et propter alia multa; et ideo de Christo exponendus est. Sciendum est autem quod quinque Psalmi agunt de passione Christi prolixe: quorum iste Psalmus primus est. Alii enim brevius tangunt passionem Christi. Secundus est, judica domine nocentes me, Ps. 34. Tertius est, ibi, exaudi Deus orationem meam, et ne despexeris deprecationem meam. Quartus, Ps. 68: salvum me fac Deus, quoniam intraverunt aquae. Quintus, Ps. 108: Deus laudem meam ne tacueris. Et hoc propter quinque plagas Christi: vel propter quinque effusiones sanguinis. Et unus est modus procedendi in omnibus, quia incipiunt a gemitu, et terminantur in salutem populorum: quia ex passione facta est salus omnibus hominibus. 

[xxiv] Ratzinger “Biblical Interpretation in Conflict: On the Foundations and Itinerary of Exegesis Today”, in Opening up the Scriptures: Joseph Ratzinger and the Foundations of Biblical Interpretation edited by Josë Granados, Carlos Granados, Luis Sánchez-Navarro (Eerdmans, 2008). Electronic format, pos 466: “When things have reached their goal, one can discover cover the true sense that so to say lay hidden in them. This sense appearing at the end of the movement transcends whatever sense might be inferred from any given section of the now completed path. «This new sense thus presupposes the existence of a divine Providence, the existence of a (salvation) history arriving at its destination.»» God’s action thus appears as the principle of the intelligibility of history. The unifying principle of the whole of past and present «history, which alone confers sense on it, is, however, ever, the historical event of Christ.”

[xxv] See Summa Theologiae, Prima Pars, q. 1, a. 10.

San Felipe de Jesús, Two verses, each a translation of the other (Sometime in 2016)

A couple of verses I wrote sometime in 2016. Dios me ha dado una devoción al joven mártir. Me da consuelo.

San Felipe de Jesús
Proto-Martyr of México
Martyred at Nagasaki, Japan
(1572-1597)

Jamás imaginaste 

cuando a México intentaste 

A un obispo encontrar,

Que el viento se levantase

Y el Pastor te invitase

A Japón sin regresar.

Tempestad no existe 

que la gracia no tranquilice 

con la patria recordar.

Japón recibiste

Y con lágrimas te dirigiste

A la blanca Cruz señal.

Ser sacerdote no alcanzaste

Pero el Santo Nombre dijiste

Y el pueblo sí nutriste

Cuando te dieron tu altar.

+df

Did by grace you imagine

When for Mexico you set

That a bishop would be lacking

But a bride would find you yet?

That wind and sea advancing

Would by Love’s design enhancing

Make the East your best well met?

No gale has yet existed

That grace has not resisted

By the beloved’s longed for sight.

Japan your new embrace

On which your young groom’s face

Saw signed a great white Cross. 

You did not reach to be a priest,

For no bishop was at that East,

But still you said a consecration

And after made Communion ministration

When at the nuptial altar station

you took your appointed place.

+df

Hunger, Poverty and the Eucharist (February 2024)

I gave this talk to students at the University of Notre Dame in Indiana, in February, 2024, as part of a seminar series Dr John Cavadini had organized to help celebrate the Eucharistic Year in the United States.

St Francis of Assisi,
Cimabue, c.1290, Basilica Church of St Francis, Assisi, Italy

Hunger, Poverty and the Eucharist

(Reflections as from different mirrors)

+Daniel E. Flores, STD

Bishop of Brownsville

The question. What to give to the person who has everything? This is something sometimes asked in jest.

The Queen of Sheba may have wondered that when she was preparing to leave Solomon’s Jerusalem.

Had she visited him again later she might have better gifted him a slap across the face with the question: What are you thinking ?

He had grown weak of mind, dizzied by his success, influenced by the flatteries of his courtiers and wives, and the gods of the nations he permitted to be propagated in his kingdom.

Poverty is a reality of the human condition with as many faces as there are vulnerable conditions. Solomon was more vulnerable than he knew. And, we could say, the not knowing how poor he was was his greatest poverty, his greatest vulnerability.

The precariousness of our vulnerabilities is a given in human life. We don’t like it; we would prefer not to think about it, and we would like to overcome it. Yet, we teeter about like a little boat on the Sea of Galilee, trying not to think about the storm that might appear on the horizon. Until it does.

Perhaps the better question: What to give to the person who thinks he has everything?

+++

In the mission of Jesus the gift is crafted to suit the need.

It’s gratuity is pristine and childlike,

yet its arrow is deliberately poised to strike what we didn’t even know we were missing.

The Incarnation itself is the gift most suitable.

The Lord’s public ministry is a pedagogy of deeds and words that when combined form signs of things God would have us learn to hunger for.

The pedagogy of desire is the moving dynamic of the Kingdom.

We are taught what to hope for, and how to attain it.

Not everyone who approached Jesus came seeking the forgiveness of their sins.

The paralyzed man lowered from the rooftop didn’t say anything;

his action and that of the friends who lowered him were expressing an unspoken ache for healing (Mk 2, 1-12).

Jesus spoke and acted;

first he forgave the man his sins,

and then told him to get up and walk.

A sign of who he was and what he came to do.

A sign also that engendered opposition.

John’s disciples were sent to ask Jesus: “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”

Jesus responds: “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.” (See Lk 7,18 ff; Is 61, 1 ff)

The crowds hear about these things, and they want to go see him.

“Blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear” (Mt 13,16).

A kind of hunger, primal almost, to be near where his goodness is.

The crowds sensed the particular character of his goodness;

it was the overflowing of generosity from his person,

And the selflessness of his accessibility.

The cynicism of those days was not so different from our own: “what’s in it for him? What’s the game here?”

In that springtime of his passing by, many perceived: “No game here.”

There was just the gift.

Goodness attracts, even though the attracted are not always so good.

There is both abundance and pedagogy in Jesus’s generosity.

There is a feeding and a progressive teaching of what to hunger for.

Poverty of spirit, purity of heart, meekness, and justice.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness [justice] for they will be satisfied.

A hunger for a right relation to God and neighbor.

A hunger for communion amongst the children of Adam.

In the face of a famished crowd, and helpless disciples, he tells them: “give them some food yourselves“ (Mk 6,37).

A hunger in Christ to have us hunger to feed the weary.

There are so many hungers.

A hunger for forgiveness of sins, and a hunger for being able to forgive.

A hunger for every word that comes from the mouth of God,

and a hunger for a true enfleshment of the words spoken.

A hunger for a pure act of generous love given,

A hunger for a true act of generous love received,

A hunger for a pure act of generous love given in return.

Catholicism is the religion of the response to the gift; of the graced arrow that hits the mark to generate a grace that returns the gift.

Salvation is in the response. Faith operates through love (Gal 5,6);we move in response to the love given, or we, and our faith, are still dead.

+++

Nicodemus seems to have been a well situated individual. He asked questions; Jesus gave him time and responses, both generously suited to his need. What he lacked was an initial openness of mind to how the Spirit of God could work in bringing about a new birth in us.

There is a gift of the Spirit to the mind, opening it to what the Spirit can do.

Nicodemus learned, arduously, to hunger for this gift.

There is the vulnerability of not knowing what it is most vital to know.

Jesus would have us know what we do not know we need to know.

Augustine points out (Tractate 69 on John) that it is possible for a Christian not to know what he or she really does know.

As when Jesus tells the disciples in John 14, 4-5: And you know where I am going, and you know the way. To this Thomas says: Lord, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?

Jesus then says: I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

So, as Augustine points out, they did know the way, because they knew him, they just didn’t know they knew. Jesus had to tell them.

So it is with us, we know him in the Eucharistic mystery.

But, it is possible not to know him, in this mystery, precisely as the Way for us to the Truth and the Life.

We have to let him tells us how we move along towards the Father through this Eucharistic Way.

+++

From the novel by Javier Sicilia,La Confesión”(DEBOLSILLO 2016). (Translation mine).

A poor priest talks to his Cardinal Archbishop aboutthepoor Christ on how the vulnerable Word addresses power.

«Do you know what amazes me about the incarnation? —I continued—, that it is the complete opposite of the modern world: the presence of the infinite within the limits of the flesh, and the fight, the relentless fight, against the temptations of the devil’s excesses. You don’t know how much I have meditated on the temptations of the desert. «‘Assume the power,’ the devil told him; that power that gives the illusion of disrupting and dominating everything. But he remained within the limits of his own flesh, in his own poverty, in his own death, so poor, so miserable, so hard. Our epoch, however, under the face of an enormous kindness, has succumbed to these temptations. ‘They will be like gods, they will change stones into loaves, they will dominate the world’… to this we have handed over the Christ and we do not even realize it.»

To this we have handed over the Christ; to this we have also handed over the poor:

An unrivaled pursuit to overcome the limits of our flesh;

to overcome our poor, fragile, time limited particularity;

as if this overcoming were the Kingdom on the eschatological horizon.

The illusion of invulnerability, and its twin ambition, self-sufficiency, is proposed as the principal aim of the epoch;

it has its own pedagogy of word and act, designed to instill and stir desire for limitlessness.

This pedagogy says “repeat after me”:

I want what I need so as not to need anything.

I have a right to get what I need…

And you have a right to try.

But, you have no right to expect me to help you.

Woe to you if you get in my way.

We have a hunger for it.

“But he remained within the limits of his own flesh, in his own poverty, in his own death, so poor, so miserable, so hard”, … as Javier Sicilia puts it.

Our flesh is the sign and source of our vulnerability, our limitations, our poverty. We have one, time bound life. What shall we do with it?

Christ Jesus, the WORD made flesh, had one time-bound life among us;

his limited flesh, his poverty.

From the Cross he needed someone to give him a drink.

His insufficiency. What did he do with it?

He embraced the limit; not as a curse, but as the path of his gift to us.

He gave it up for us,

offered it to the Father as a gift of love,

—One of us offering what we could not—

rose from the dead still bearing the marks of his wounds.

And he gives us his flesh to eat.

And in his risen body, he breathes the Spirit into us,

That we might be able to join him in the offering.

It is striking that the Risen Christ reveals himself to the Eleven through the signs of his wounds.

That is to say, through the glorified wounds themselves, or through the act of breaking the Bread. To my mind these are roughly equivalent signs.

The wounds speak of the vulnerable One.

And the bread-breaking is a sign of, well, breakability.

Pius XII talks about this in Mediator Dei; so do the Didache and Justin Martyr in the Apology. This is ubiquitous in the Tradition. He is recognized in the sign and act of the Sacrifice.

The Risen Christ desires to be recognizable and recognized under the sign of his vulnerability handed over for our sakes.

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Words and Signs.

Jerome translated the Gk mysterion into Latinusing either mysterium or sacramentum. (It’s not always clear what his criteria were.)

The Liturgy does this also: where in English we say “the Mystery of Faith”, translating mysterium fidei, the Spanish missal translates: el sacramento de nuestra fe.

Jesus is present in mysterium, that is to say, in the sacramentum.

This is instructive. We tend to think of a mystery as a dark cloud, and hiding things deep inside, which it is;

and we tend to think of a sacramentum as a visible sign, which it is;

but each one is a translation of the same New Testament word.

Each one is the other.

A darkly bright cloud, yes, but one that visibly signifies;

a visible sign, yes, but one that hides more than it shows, like the pillar of cloud that guided the Israelites by day.

The mysterium signifies; it shows us some we can understand.

But it is also a cloud we must enter.

In the form of an action that offers his poverty: Take this, all of you,..

His vulnerable life, as a sacrifice of love to the Father, for the sake of his poor, vulnerable little flock.

One solitary vulnerable life, so poor, so hard, so miserable.

The mysterium / sacramentum of the Eucharist is an act that re-presents to us something the Someone of the Son does: it is presence and action; action of perduring gift.

To make us rich, as St Paul says (2 Cor 8,9).

But rich in what sense? In what way?

How are we to understand this?

How can we enter into it?

Rich by sharing in the wealth of his poverty,

now revealed as the glory of the Kingdom in all its dispossessed fullness.

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At the Savior’s command, and Formed by divine teaching

The traditional placement of the Lord’s Prayer after the Great Amen and before the elevation of the Lamb of God leading to Communion is enormously significant.

It is the formative prayer expressing compactly the desires of the Kingdom, and the desires of the Church at this moment.

The response of the Father to these simple petitions is Communion with Him through the gift of the Son,

the Lamb once slain who dies no more, the food of the new life, in the Holy Spirit.

The food of the journey, the Way.

Thy Kingdom Come would seem, then, to be the primary posture of a Christian poised to receive Communion.

That would be the Kingdom

where the blind and the lame are invited,

where the law is for the sake of man,

and not man for the sake of the law;

where mercy flows generously like the wine at a wedding;

where the widow and the orphan are not exploited,

and Lazarus at the door of the rich man is hungry no more.

You have to want to be at that kind of banquet.

Not wanting to is part of our poverty, that neediness that we do not know we have.

We can be so trapped in our self-made frozen lakes.

Mt 25, 31 ff. “For I was hungry and you gave me food,..”

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If there were no Matthew 25, 31: where would we be?

We would be without a vivid expression of how Jesus understood himself in the figure of the Son of Man:

The Son of Man, head of the human race, present in each member.

He who chose to share in our flesh, makes us common sharers in his.

There is no turning away from another that is not a turning away from him.

“You did it for me; or not”.

We would be without an explicit link between “this is my body” and the bodies of every member of the human race:

The vulnerable bodies, our woundable, limited, poor, miserable flesh bodies. Our common poverty. This is our great connection to Him and to each other.

We would be without the parabolic crescendo to the prophetic tradition defending the unjustly oppressed, the widow and the orphan,

The defenseless who are without resource to hold in check the manipulations of those who have the power to do so.

Head of the human race; he is in us and we in him, even in what by shorthand we call the natural order.

All the more so in the order of grace, where his headship is recognized and acclaimed.

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Behold the Lamb of God

In the Apocalypse, and in the Eucharistic Liturgy, the Christ is envisioned as the the Lamb who was slain, but who dies no more.

The triumphant vulnerable,..

The way of Christ is not the way of putting all our energy into a provisional invulnerability.

The self-preoccupation is slowly killing us.

There is a turn here: we stop focusing on procuring our own invulnerability so as to offer some relief to the vulnerable around us.

In Christ the Communion of the vulnerable makes us a people who strive to supply to the other what they may lack, as they supply what we may lack.

Opening us to the truth that our incompleteness, our congenital lack of self-sufficiency, is not a curse but a blessing,

that invites relation and communion.

And the possibility of love.

In the Eucharist we learn that we cannot feed ourselves with what we most need.

It has to be freely given by another.

What we most need is a love that hungers to feed another.

This is the love he feeds us with.

It breaks tbeough.

“Why, you’re one of my little ones,” she said, as she reached out to touch the Misfit. Right before he shot her. (My translation of Flannery O,Connor.)

By his poverty we were made rich.

Rich with what?

As I have done so you must do,..

A generosity that gives outside of ourselves,

That clothes the naked because we have been clothed with the baptismal garment

That feeds the hungry because we have been fed by his sacrificial Eucharistic act

That welcomes a stranger because we were once strangers and have been made members of the household of God.

That visits the prisoner because we were prisoners once, and have been set free.

By this is the Father glorified.

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A practical consequence

Reality is supposed to look different on the other side of the Sacrifice,

On the other side of the dying and rising of Jesus.

Our vision of what is, informed by the light of what has been done for us, given to us, handed over for us, fed to us, breathed into us.

Love acts, or it is not love.

In Christ there is no love of the Father that prescinds from the flesh and blood condition of the neighbor.

When we walk out of Mass is there something we can do, or make plans to do?

I do not ask the “to do” question out of my American proclivity to always seek measurable results,

but rather from a Gospel insistence that love and justice must touch flesh and blood, or they are just words we have emptied of content.

There is a further opportunity to meet Christ in the flesh and blood encounter with the suffering of another.

The Eucharistic encounter summed up in “This is my body given up for you” envelops the entire dramatic unfolding of the Liturgy;

it is mirrored in the outgoing search for some manifestation of “the least of mine, for they are me”.

There should be a hunger to find him in our midst;

on this campus we inhabit, this city and neighborhood. In a soup kitchen, a refugee center, a juvenile detention facility, a prison cell, in a nursing home or hospice center.

The point is that the searching is something that he initiates in us, so that he can be found by us.

Better not to go alone. He tended to send out in pairs, and the Church better expresses herself when the practical encounters are communal. We are not lone rangers.

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The mysticism of the Christ glimpsed

The hunger and thirst for justice is not different than a hunger to go to Christ in his humiliated and broken condition.

This is like the hard mysticism of Dorothy Day.

Mary Magdalene searched for him, his corpsed body; she was found by a Gardener. The words she uses are meant to remind of us the Song of Songs

«Sir, if you carried him away, tell me where you laid him, and I will take him.» (Jn 20,15)

The watchmen came upon me as they made their rounds of the city:
Have you seen him whom my heart loves?
”(Song of Songs, 3,3)

Recognition is the sweetest grace of the New Testament:

Jesus said to her, «Mary!» She turned and said to him in Hebrew, «Rabbouni,» which means Teacher.

This ardent desire for a glimpse of Christ in the flesh is a Eucharistic consequence, a Eucharistic desire.

But it seems a decision of his inscrutable goodness to us that we look for him marred, bloodied, rejected, hungry, imprisoned Alzheimered, drug addicted, ..

Out of his generosity, he insists we learn to see and serve him there, to embrace the leper as St Francis did,

We have to see him there before our eyes can see the Christ that the baroque masters tried to capture in his risen glory.

The Eucharistic sacramentum is a broken host, and a wounded side filling an overflowing chalice.

The Eucharistic mysterium is a making sturdy the heart to go to the difficult places, the places that offer a glimpse of Christ; so poor, so thirsty, so miserable, so hard.

A consolation not a comfort.

It is a love suited to our circumstance.

For stern as death is love, relentless as the nether world is devotion; its flames are a blazing fire. (Song of Songs 8, 6).

Christ hidden, Christ loved and searched for is the only suitable way to get us out of our pervasive self-preoccupation,

and onto a road like the one to Emmaus that allows him to join our company, and show himself.

If we cannot empty ourselves in some way, we are not really receiving the sacramentum we are consuming.

We are worse than lost in the cosmos.

So pervasive are our webs of self-concern, that to leave them is like slowly waking up from a dream or a deep sleep.

It is a kind of rising from the dead.

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Thank you for your kind attention.

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The Politics of Human Dignity: Catholics and Immigration (March 2017)

It was Dr Greg Hillis who in 2016 asked me to give the Fr Vernon Robertson Lecture, at Bellarmine University. Greg very much wanted me to address the topic of immigration, and I was happy to do so.

I traveled to Ballarmine University in Louisville, Kentucky, on 28 March, 2017, to give a lecture entitled “The Politics of Human Dignity: Catholics and Immigration” .

While I was in Louisville, Greg showed me the University, took me to visit Gethsemani Abbey. He delighted in showing me around, introducing me to the monks and sharing with me the stories about Thomas Merton’s hermitage on the grounds of the Abbey. We communicated regularly thereafter. Greg passed away in 2024 after a heroic battle against cancer. I reflect often on the generous time and hospitality he gave to me on my visit. And I am grateful to God for his example as a theologian and “man of the Church” (to use de Lubac’s phrase). May he rest in peace.

Here below is the text of the lecture I gave on the occasion of that 2017 visit. I think it remains relevant to our current situation.

+dflores

Dr Greg Hillis, A theologian those who knew him sorely miss

The Politics of Human Dignity: Catholics and Immigration (2017)

The topic of this lecture is Catholics and the issue of immigration. I view this lecture as mostly addressed to how Catholics can properly grapple with this issue. Catholics have a responsibility to enter into the discussion about immigration in a serious way, and we have a decisive mission to sanctify the discourse that permeates the political process. My lecture today, though, in no way takes for granted that most Catholics are in fact engaged in the discussion, as Catholics. That is to say as equipped to purify, elevate and thus sanctify the situation we face. I rather think many are not. We have far to go. Yet it seems to me Bellarmine University is a good place to lend a bit of shoulder to the effort.

I begin, though, with a verse written by the 20th Century Spanish essayist and poet Miguel de Unamuno who gave to us a poetic meditation on Christ Crucified, emerging from his contemplation of the Crucified painted by the 16th Century artist Diego Velázquez. The poet converses with the artist and his work, exemplifying thereby a rich dialogical tradition of image and word. The translation, for better or for worse, is my own:

While the earth in loneliness sleeps,

there watches the white moon; the Man watches

from his Cross, while men sleep;

watches now the man without blood, the Man white

like the moon of the black night;

watches now the Man that gave all his blood

that the peoples might know that they are men. (1)

A Catholic must begin with hope which for us can only emerge from our contemplation of the One who watches in the night. For us politics can only really be about keeping faith with Him, and what he shows us about God, about ourselves and about our neighbor. For He comes, “that the peoples might know that they are men”.

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I am not primarily interested in talking about the current state of political discourse in the United States. I will, however, have to do so in order to clarify in some way how a Catholic moral and political perspective differs from the current dominant way of talking about this issue. So, I will spend a few lines on a description of the current political and moral universe Catholics inhabit.

The state of public discourse about immigration and immigrants is an exemplary case of a poverty that exists within our culture. By poverty I mean that the culture seems to lack the resources needed to engage in significant moral discourse on issues that impact the social order. We churn like a perpetually stationary hurricane sitting in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. Immigration is not the only exemplary case, there are others. Still, it is the one I want to address today.

We are mired in a poverty of moral discourse that manifests itself principally as an perpetual battle of narratives. And this happens in two ways: first the narratives are presented more or less syllogistically, and second, the place of sentiment and emotion in the narrative is used to bolster the persuasive intent of the narrative. Classically, persuasion is aimed at the will, though in modern political discourse this is so only confusedly. The discourse is not primarily aimed at the will as the agent of rational judgment about what is best to do about immigration, but rather at the will insofar as it can be moved by sentiment to accept a narrative syllogism, from which follows a position on immigration. The narratives in themselves are problematic inasmuch as they are mutually exclusive, but what is more corrosive is the manner in which the narratives are evaluated.

The first problem here is the widespread belief that the battle is won by those who are perceived to have the most relevant facts on their side. And despite the fact that these facts are passionately and often angrily listed, all sides in the debate seem to accept as given that facts are facts and that their moral import follows as an evident conclusion upon the narration of them.

The role of the emotions in this dynamic is inordinate precisely because they are asked to bear the decisive weight. Since the syllogistic narratives evidently fail to persuade a majority one way or the other, as a practical matter, the extra push to political judgment is supplied by appeal to emotion and sentiment. Each side will ascribe to itself the appropriate sentiment motivating its own narrative of the facts. Proper love of country, respect for law and order, sympathy for national sovereignty are principally appealed to, while conversely, on the other side, the appeal is to global solidarity, concern for the poor, and compassion for the suffering of others.

These descriptions are usually coupled with a twin argument about the faulty sentiments of those in opposition. So the argument becomes one between sides that claim the moral evaluation of the other is faulty because of its corrosive relation to an inappropriate sentiment. Thus, for example, those sincerely in favor of a more humane immigration policy in this country often narrate the relevant facts and then discuss how the facts of those opposed are corrupted by anger, racism, hyper-nationalism etc. On the other side, those in favor of a stricter immigration policy, of walls and even mass deportations, list the facts relevant to them, and then charge the other side with an anemic love of country, of heartlessness in the face of crimes committed by immigrants, or of exaggerated sentiments of compassion for persons that this country is not able to help.

Thus, I suggest that the factual presentation is a competitive one, presented as exclusive of the other; the emotional narrative is also mostly a competitive one, exclusive of the other. To close the description here, the opposing sides tend to view each other’s facts and sentiments dismissively, and as irrelevant. Charges of irrelevancy further impoverish the discussion.

What is lacking in the discourse I have only briefly and generally described is a proper estimation of what constitutes a moral and political judgment. We never move to the discussion of how to integrate and prioritize the legitimate goods variously identified by both sides. Nor do we acknowledge that affections, despite their immediacy, are not beyond the need for purification. Without these steps, there is no real political judgment. This kind of atrophied discourse is a kind of poverty and paralysis in our culture, and not one that we need accept with resignation. Perhaps, as Thomas Pfau suggests in a very fine book called “Minding the Modern” the very concept of judgment as something involving a reasonable dialogical engagement with various goods and affections has slipped from our practical public awareness. (2) I will say more about this further step needed, in course.

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At this juncture, I would like to place on the table a few words about the broader Catholic moral imagination. An aspect of our contemporary Catholic culture is the increasing difficulty we have picturing how providence manifests itself. I do not mean giving a theological account of God’s governance, I mean shedding a little light on how everyday Catholics live and pray it. God’s governance in history expresses itself primarily through human agency. This is for a Catholic something so deep in our theological tradition and in our habitual awareness that in a memory-blocked age we can forget where it comes from.

I had it taught to me by my Grandmother, who used to rise early in the morning to pray several Rosaries. And when I would ask her what she prayed for, she would tell me that she prayed for all her grandchildren, especially the ones far away. She said simply that she prayed that if ever they are in trouble, God would put a kind and generous soul in their path to help them. She was a realist, that is to say, she knew her grandchildren, my older cousins, were quite capable of finding all sorts of trouble. But she was a woman of faith, and trusted to God that He would find ways to help them. Mostly, that meant He would put the right people in their path. The mirror image of that kind of perception, available to anyone with faith and a little imagination, is that we are also all potential answers to some grandmother’s prayer in some place far away. Indeed, the generosity God inspires in each one of us today is his answer to someone’s prayer. 

This imaginative perception communicated to me by my grandmother is an echo of the lived transmission of the faith, and of many a hagiographical account. Perhaps most famously in the tradition is the account of Saint Francis and his encounter with the Leper. Surely the Leper prayed for a touch of human compassion, and surely God inspired something in Francis to respond in the way he did. (3) But Francis also prayed to know Christ most intimately, and in the Leper found Christ waiting. This awareness is present also in the stories told today among immigrants of the mysterious figure of Santo Toribio Romo, who is said to emerge from the desert to assist an immigrant who has lost his way and is in danger of perishing.

The daily perceptions of providence exist principally within the ethos of charity; that is to say, within an imaginative vision of life that sees cohesion in the grace God gives to a generous human heart, and the care for those who are in trouble. Even in a wounded world, people find themselves crossing paths with someone who will not abandon them to disaster. The parable of the Good Samaritan is prototypical of this perspective maintained in faith.

One could imagine the Father of the prodigal son praying in the way my Grandmother described, asking that someone be placed in his son’s life to render him aid in the moment of need. It is doubtful that the older brother bothered to pray this way, and indeed, the older brother’s unwillingness to go seek his younger brother is one of the “indictments by absence” present in the parable. I say this because a Christological reading of the parable takes note of how it begs for the sending of the “first born” to the aid of the younger sibling.

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Unamuno on Christ the reckoning rod and carpenter’s square:

You are the Man, the Reason, the Norm,

your cross is our reckoning rod, the measure

of the pain that elevates, and the carpenter’s square

of our rectitude: it makes straight

the heart of man when bowed low.

You have humanized the universe, O Christ.

«Behold the Man!» through whom God becomes something. (4)

I actually think most Catholics still perceive to some degree this mysterious dynamic linking human responses to divine governance. What is lacking, however, is a bridge between this manner of perceiving life and Catholic participation in contemporary discussions about a just social order. We are not sufficiently aware of the absence of this bridge, nor have we examined how it might be built. In this sense, I read the following passage from Pope Benedict’s Caritas in Veritate as a plea for the building of this bridge:

«The more we strive to secure a common good corresponding to the real needs of our neighbors, the more effectively we love them. Every Christian is called to practice this charity, in a manner corresponding to his vocation and according to the degree of influence he wields in the pólis. This is the institutional path — we might also call it the political path — of charity, no less excellent and effective than the kind of charity which encounters the neighbor directly, outside the institutional mediation of the pólis.» (5)

The political world Catholics inhabit seems to have no room for this kind of perspective. I do not mean simply a perspective that includes grace as a vehicle of human participation in the providence of a Good God, or a perspective that has room for the appearance of the miraculous in history; rather more to the point, I mean that the political discourse does not take sufficient account of human agency as intimately involved in the sustenance of human and social cohesion. Charity has been privatized, and as a result, our pursuit of adequately just solutions to contingent social circumstances has become truncated. Further, moral judgment, as an act of prudential reason, has also been privatized, and this has impact on the character of political judgment in the wider public sphere.

Part of the problem is that individual’s relations to the world outside are increasingly difficult to account for, apart from willing them. Our wider culture has no basis to talk about mutual concern and compassion apart from the language of purely willed associations. (6) These willed associations resolve to the isolated individual who tends to view relations suspiciously. When social relations are conceived as fundamentally voluntary, they are subject to severance for whatever provocation an encounter might unpleasantly cause. The “I do not want to deal with you” that is an ever present temptation to fallen nature becomes a normative and politically acceptable response.

Catholic moral teaching, including the Social Justice magisterium, presumes a metaphysics of human nature in relation, and proposes a healing and strengthening of these relations by faith, hope, and charity. The Church stubbornly insists that human political judgment cannot prescind from a metaphysically prior existential relatedness. When there is no intellectual respect within public discourse for the given of human relatedness, we end up with what Pope Francis calls the culture of indifference. Indifference perceives no moral claim based on relation, and it kills by neglect. In the Church’s life this breakdown of presumed relationality prior to willing it is reflected in the privatization of charity, its reduction from a robust gift of social cohesion to an individually willed act of selflessness. There is not much urgency to it, certainly not like in the parable of the Good Samaritan. There is only me, wanting to help.

The eclipse of human relationality as a fundamental given of politics and law is the legacy of a post-Kantian search for an expression of law that serves as a kind of imperative derived a priori and applied universally. The tragedy of our age is that the a priori universal that seems to govern our moral/political discourse is that of individual autonomy and the radical freedom of the will. Limitation of freedom by secondary laws is permitted only in so far as the freedom is perceived to cause injury to another. At present the “perception of injury” that society permits to be legally prohibited capriciously excludes vast swaths of the population from the unborn to the comatose patent, with the poor and the immigrant standing temporally somewhere in between.

In our current social predicament law is conceived as primarily a matter of discerning how to avoid the evils that unrestrained relationality might cause to the good of national sovereignty, community safety and personal rights. This state of affairs is precisely the result of the dropping out of our political consciousness a sense of legally expressed positive norms that govern the prior good of human relationality. Law as aimed at promoting the good ordering of relations, so that goods can be achieved by individuals and families within a community, seems to have passed out of our perception of social order.

We seem also to have lost the public and habitual ability to derive principles and then discern their applicability within contingent historical circumstances. Politics, and by extension, law, is increasingly perceived as ahistorical. This is to say, the principles, or facts, once assembled, are treated as universal imperatives that admit of no adaptation to particular historical circumstances. The law is the law. If we seem to be facing a choice between extremes, between high border walls on one side and open borders on another, it is because the discourse does not have room for integrating principles. Only in a political universe where law is conceived as essentially a collection of universal norms that are prohibitive of evil—evil understood minimally as causing obvious injury to another– and not also aimed at promoting the good of human relationality, is this poverty possible.

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Catholic moral life and thought is essentially integrative, that is to say, it assembles relevant aspects of a human situation and in so doing begins the work of forming an evaluative judgment about how particular situations do or do not attain to the more universal human goods like life, family and work. The move to the particular application is a move of practical reason that assesses goods and circumstances in a prioritized way. This way of thinking and speaking is essentially dialogical and integrative. It flows from a tradition of moral discourse that finds exemplary, though not exclusive, expression in Saint Thomas. The move from the reality of historical humanity, to the consideration of prioritized universal human goods, and then a renewed consideration of how to support these goods among particular peoples and historical circumstances is the social analogue to the Thomistic return to the phantasm. (7) Such dialogical movement is a necessary and always needed verification of rational adequatio ad rem socialem. The move from the particular to the universal back to the particular again is basic in Catholic social teaching.

People do this kind of reasoning all the time; you do not need a degree in philosophy or theology to have a habitual sense of this. Health is a human good, so we try to eat healthy foods and get some exercise and enough sleep. But if our child is sick and we have to drop everything to take her to the hospital, and stay up at night with her, and eat peanut butter and jelly because there is nothing else available, at least until she gets better, then we are spontaneously re-ordering our principled priorities. This kind of thinking is not outside of our experience, but together with charity it has been privatized. There is little concourse between the moral reasoning of individuals and the moral discourse of the political order.

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The papacy in contemporary times, from Pope Pius XII to Pope Francis, has spoken with increasing urgency about the phenomenon of human migration, and what a Christian and politically responsible response looks like. The development of the Magisterium on this issue has been largely a matter of expressing how a theological anthropology rooted in the Scriptural tradition lived in the Church and interpretive of the natural law impacts the social order as it develops and changes. This responds to a recognition that the primordial goods of human life, family and social cohesion have been radically affected by the development of the modern nation-state and the emergence of post-modern global economic structures. The papal magisterium thus expresses principles, and then asks that the principles be applied in a practical way to the particular, and often shifting conditions on the ground.

How immigration policy is formulated in the United States is an example of the move to particular application of principles. How a particular border patrol agent applies the policy when interviewing a 14 year old apprehended at the Rio Grande River is the move to the most particular. It is at these more particular levels, though, that the Church is often told she has no relevance to the conversation. Often our own people do not know what to make of what bishops say about the application of principles to the issue of immigration.

It is important that we understand, however, that if the Church as teacher, and if Catholics in general, cannot engage actively in the articulation of norms that require careful prudential application in law and in practice, then we are, de facto, limiting ourselves to the poverty of the post-Kantian search for ahistorical universal norms I spoke about earlier. The Church does teach norms that admit of no exceptions, but the culture suffers and persons suffer if we do not also temember that we also teach about human goods that must be balanced practically and politically in a prioritized way.

It is to this aspect of Catholic life and the just treatment of immigrants that I now wish to turn. To do this, I will use a document issued jointly by the United States Bishops Conference and the Mexican Bishops Conference in 2003. The discussion of principles found there is found in similar form in other documents, but this one remains particularly relevant and lends itself to the kind of discourse I am describing.

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Unamuno on the King of landless exiles:

«I have no man», we say in the anguish

of mortal life; yet you [Christ] respond:

Such is the Man, King of the nations

of the landless exiles, of the Holy Church,

of the people without a home that goes crossing

the mortal desert behind the banner

and cypher of the eternal, which is the cross! (8)

Love of country and the pursuit of justice within a sovereign nation need not be seen as exclusive of charity and justice for a suffering immigrant population that is either already here, or is seeking entry. Thus, for example, the first principle enunciated some years ago in the joint letter from the US and Mexican bishops Conferences indicates that persons have a fundamental right to find opportunities in their homeland. (9)

This flows from a basic human reality: we have in us a natural love for our own homelands and the cultures that flourish there. This is true in the United States and it is true in Mexico or in Honduras. As a basic norm, people and families should be able to live, raise their families, work and enjoy basic human goods like security, and education in their native land. Most people would prefer to stay in the country where they were born, if conditions permit it. Many immigrant parents I know dream of one day being able to go back home and raise their children there, if conditions back home would allow.

There are many places in the world where there is a state of affairs that roughly provides the kind of social equilibrium that this principle describes; and there are many places where these conditions are nearly non-existent. Immigration tends to happen when people do not judge they have a chance to survive and raise a family in their native place.

This principle (i.e. people have a right to stay home) has the character of a kind of temporal end, and as such is rightly held in sight as we discuss the other principles that the bishops identify as morally relevant to the just treatment of immigrants. It is also a principle which is admittedly beyond your or my personal ability to enact today, by personal effort alone. We can contribute to it (look for the Catholic Relief Services website), but it is not something we can do in the same way we can make a sandwich for a person who is hungry.

The principle points to the need to formulate a cooperative and cohesive response from peoples and nations around the world, principally in developmental support for countries where poverty and insecurity exist in devastating proportions. Such efforts take time to have effect, and certainly the bishops do not suggest that we alone in the United States are solely responsible for helping promote the human good in other parts of the world.

Thus, there is a second, closely related consideration that flows from the first: Persons have the right to migrate to support themselves and their families. The Church recognizes that all the goods of the earth belong to all people. When persons cannot find employment in their country of origin to support themselves and their families, they have a right to find work elsewhere in order to survive. Sovereign nations should provide ways to accommodate this right. (10)

Thus, realistically, immigration is most often the human response to a moment of crisis, of people responding to hardship and fear. Today, immigrants are often pawns in a harsh power-game that involves governments on one side and criminality and corruption on the other. In some parts of the world the distinction between the two is not so easy to see.

Two things that I want to note about this principle, which is in some ways the nub of the question today. The principle exists in relation to the Catholic teaching about the universal destination of all goods. Like the right to private property, sovereign control of borders is not an absolute; it is rightly accommodated in view of the right of persons to survive. (11) Further, there is a recognition that this principle of social good must be politically accommodated as an expression of political responsibility. This implies a willingness to revisit how well a nation is responding to conditions of poverty, drought and famine within its own borders and in other countries. In times of crisis, a global or hemispheric response is called for, and this may require a more generous policy of receptivity to immigrants. In principle, though, a Catholic cannot say “that is none of our nation’s concern”.

Subordinated to these two general principles is another that can only be understood in relation to the prior more universal principles. Sovereign nations do have the right to control their borders. (12) This principle predates the modern nation-state, though it accommodates to the current reality. (13) This principle is rooted in a judgment about the good of promoting a cohesive social order that acknowledges the diversity of familial, cultural, social and national identity patterns. The neighbor is the neighbor precisely because we live distinct familial and national dynamics. Law recognizes this, and history shows it is a principle that has stable meaning and yet admits of shifting applications over time.

In the current context, the right to enforce internationally recognized borders is itself conditioned by a responsibility to do so with an eye on the previous principles articulated, and on the realistic appraisal of national resources. More powerful economic nations, which have the ability to protect and feed their residents, have a stronger obligation to accommodate migration flows. (14) This is a call to application on the level of political prudence of the Scriptural injunction Share your bread with the hungry; shelter the oppressed and the homeless. Clothe the naked when you see them, and turn not your back on your own (Is 58, 7).

The final two principles articulated in the joint document move decidedly to the particular, and thus begin to address the practical question of how to respond to persons who are at the border, or who wish to come into the United States because of what amounts to the proximate danger of perishing in their homeland. Thus, the United States and Mexican bishops integrate into the narrative of principles a special word about refugees and asylum seekers: They should be afforded protection. Those who flee wars and persecution should be protected by the global community. This requires, at a minimum, that migrants have a right to claim refugee status without incarceration and to have their claims fully considered by a competent authority. (15)

And at its most immediate, the bishops reiterate the obligation of those charged with law enforcement to do so with due regard to the dignity of persons who migrate: Regardless of their legal status, migrants, like all persons, possess inherent human dignity that should be respected. Often they are subject to punitive laws and harsh treatment from enforcement officers from both receiving and transit countries. Government policies that respect the basic human rights of the undocumented are necessary. (16) Here, the point is about how persons entering the country without the documentary permissions a sovereign state may require are in fact treated when apprehended. As “Strangers no Longer” puts it: While the sovereign state may impose reasonable limits on immigration, the common good is not served when the basic human rights of the individual are violated. (17)

The call of the American Catholic bishops for a comprehensive reform of the current immigration law is mostly about how to balance the goods outlined in these principles I have outlined. It is a call for reasonable political will, and it involves a realistic accommodation of the particular situations affecting immigrants today. It is not adequate, from a Catholic point of view, to base a national immigration policy on purely economic criteria. The fact of global economic displacements, of war or lawless violence in numerous parts of the world must be addressed in a way that reflects a realistic response to a proximate threat to human life and its proximate goods. 

In particular, national policy should reflect the fact that the family is the most basic pedagogical vehicle for wider human and social cohesion. For this reason, the bishops continue to ask that the law recognize that deportations resulting in the separation of parents and children is harmful to the good individuals, of the family, and of the country. If families are separated, the whole fabric of the culture unravels. The breakdown of the family structure vitiates the social good because it directly affects the formation of the young.

In the political order, to frame the discussion around cases of obvious crimes and misdeeds committed by members of “the immigrant population”, for example, often aims rhetorically to short-circuit the discussion. Within a generous response to immigrant persons and families can be accommodated a legitimate concern for stopping criminal elements from injuring others, either here or abroad. A great many immigrants that I know are seeking permission to stay in the United States because they are fleeing the very same kinds of criminal elements and activities that we rightly do not want causing harm here. One of the tragedies of the mutually exclusive narratives, and of our anemic discourse is that we do not currently have a an effective legal way to distinguish between immigrants who are fleeing criminals, and immigrants who are criminals.

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Let us return now to the concrete particular, the phantasm of our social thinking, the reckoning rod and builder’s square of our human living. 

A couple of years ago I met a young man in Honduras, 16 years old. His parents were either dead or gone, he didn’t say. He had recently been summarily deported from Mexico. He told me he had tried 5 times to get the United States, because there was nothing for him at home; the gangs would kill him if he stayed. He said he would try again. He wanted to have a life, he said, a job, maybe a little house and get married. And if he didn’t make it to the US, he would try to live in Mexico. At least there, he said, you can have a life. I think of this young man often.

I do not tell you about him to stir your sentiments. I tell you because there are hundreds of thousands like him, who live at the edge of human society, They are the ones who are told there is no room for you here, and there is no room for you anywhere else: «it  is not our concern what happens to you».

He is just one young man. But our political activity as Catholics must keep faith with him if we are to keep faith with Christ. Maybe he is still alive, maybe he is in Mexico; maybe he has a grandmother somewhere praying for him. And maybe someone will respond to him. He is in some real way Christ Himself whom Velázquez and Unamuno sought, that particular wounded flesh, to whom also we we must ultimately return.

While the earth in loneliness sleeps,

there watches the white moon; the Man watches

from his Cross, while men sleep;

watches now the man without blood, the Man white

like the moon of the black night;

watches now the Man that gave all his blood

that the peoples might know that they are men. (18)

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Notes:

1) Miguel de Unamuno, “El Cristo de Velázquez”, I, iv:

Mientras la tierra sueña solitaria,

vela la blanca luna; vela el Hombre

desde su cruz, mientras los hombres sueñan;

vela el Hombre sin sangre, el Hombre blanco

como la luna de la noche negra;

vela el Hombre que dio toda su sangre

por que las gentes sepan que son hombres.

2) Thomas Pfau: Minding the Modern, (University of Notre Dame Press, 2013).

3)  See Saint Bonaventure, Life of Francis.

4)  Miguel de Unamuno, “El Cristo de Velázquez”, I, vi:

Tú eres el Hombre, la Razón, la Norma, 

tu cruz es nuestra vara, la medida 

del dolor que sublima, y es la escuadra 

de nuestra derechura: ella endereza 

cuando caído al corazón del hombre. 

Tú has humanado al universo, Cristo. 

“¡He aquí el Hombre!” por quien Dios es algo. 

5)  Caritas in Veritate, no. 7. 

6)  The empiricism and positivism that are the godparents of this emphasis on purely willed relations have roots in the earlier adoption of univocal discourse over the analogical, and the voluntarisms that followed upon it. See John Milbank (Beyond Secular Order: Wiley and Sons, 2013), and Charles Taylor (A Secular Age: Belknap Press, Harvard, 2007)

7)  Summa Theologiae, Ia, 84, 7.

8) Miguel de Unamuno, “El Cristo de Velázquez”, I, vi:

«¡No tengo Hombre!”, decimos en los trances 

de vida mortal; mas Tú contestas: 

¡Tal es el Hombre, Rey de las naciones 

de desterrados, de la Iglesia Santa, 

del pueblo sin hogar que va cruzando 

el desierto mortal tras de la enseña 

y cifra de lo eterno, que es la cruz!… 

9)  Strangers No Longer: Together on the Journey of Hope, Issued by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops and the Conferencia del Episcopado Mexicano, January 22, 2003, no 34: All persons have the right to find in their own countries the economic, political, and social opportunities to live in dignity and achieve a full life through the use of their God-given gifts. In this context, work that provides a just, living wage is a basic human need.

10)  Strangers No Longer, no. 35.

11)  CCC no. 2404:  «In his use of things man should regard the external goods he legitimately owns not merely as exclusive to himself but common to others also, in the sense that they can benefit others as well as himself.» The ownership of any property makes its holder a steward of Providence, with the task of making it fruitful and communicating its benefits to others, first of all his family.

12)  Strangers no Longer, no 36: The Church recognizes the right of sovereign nations to control their territories but rejects such control when it is exerted merely for the purpose of acquiring additional wealth. More powerful economic nations, which have the ability to protect and feed their residents, have a stronger obligation to accommodate migration flows.

13)  See Jacques Maritain, Man and the State. 

14) Strangers no Longer, no. 36.

15) Strangers no Longer, no. 37.

16) Strangers no Longer, no. 38.

17) Strangers no Longer, no. 39. 

18)  Miguel de Unamuno, “El Cristo de Velázquez” I, iv: 

Mientras la tierra sueña solitaria,

vela la blanca luna; vela el Hombre

desde su cruz, mientras los hombres sueñan;

vela el Hombre sin sangre, el Hombre blanco

como la luna de la noche negra;

vela el Hombre que dio toda su sangre

por que las gentes sepan que son hombres.

+df

El Cristo de Velázquez (1632)

A few translated lines suitable for consideration

Saint Augustine, Tractate 96 on John:

Isto enim modo vos docebit Spiritus sanctus omnem veritatem, cum magis magisque diffundet in cordibus vestris caritatem.

«En efecto, de ese modo os enseñará el Espíritu Santo toda la verdad, cuando derrame más y más en vuestros corazones la caridad.»

«Indeed, in this way the Holy Spirit will teach you all truth, as he pours charity more and more into your hearts.»

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San Juan de Ávila, “Audi Fila et vide”:

“Y de aquí es, que aunque no hubiese infierno que amenazase, ni paraíso que convidase, ni mandamiento que constriñese, obraría el justo por sólo el amor de Dios lo que obra.”

«And from here it follows, that even if there were no hell that threatened, no paradise that beckoned, no commandment that would constrain, the just would do what he does for only the love of God.”

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Leo the Great, Sermo XXI in Nativitate Domini:

«Memento cuius capitis et cuius corporis sis membrum.
Reminiscere quia erutus de potestate tenebrarum, translatus es in Dei lumen et regnum.
Per baptismatis sacramentum Spiritus Sancti factus es templum»

«Recuerda la Cabeza y el Cuerpo de quien eres miembro. Recuerda que fuiste rescatado del poder de las tinieblas y trasladado a la luz y al reino de Dios. Por el misterio del Bautismo fuisteis hechos templo del Espíritu Santo»

«Remember the Head and the Body of whom you are a member. Remember that you were rescued from the power of darkness and brought [translated] into the light and kingdom of God. Through the mystery of Baptism you were made a temple of the Holy Spirit.»

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John Henry Newman

Sometimes I enjoy reading Newman more in Spanish than in English. Most times actually. The Spanish translation of the Parroquial and Plain Sermons by VÍCTOR GARCÍA RUIZ, working in collaborative with José Morales y Luis Galván (Ediciones Encuentro, S.A., Madrid. 2020) is really quite fine. Here is a good example (The English, which is incomparable, follows below):

Sermones parroquiales/Sermón 26, LA MADUREZ CRISTIANA, 15 de mayo de 1831

«Pero, si hay entre nosotros (bien puede haberlos) alguno que, como el joven rico, «arrodillado» ante Cristo y «amado» por Él (Mc 10,17 y 21), ha obedecido sus mandatos desde la juventud y, sin embargo, no puede sentirse más que «afligido» ante la idea de abandonar sus gratas perspectivas, sus idolatrías infantiles y sus gozosas ilusiones de felicidad terrenal, a ese le animo a estar alegre y ser valiente. ¿Acaso te pide el Salvador algo más que lo que te arrancará el dueño duro y malvado que desea tu ruina? Cristo te dice que dejes el mundo; pero ¿acaso el mundo no te va a dejar pronto a ti, en cualquier caso? ¿Lo vas a conservar si te haces su esclavo? Por mucho que ahora te prometa otra cosa, ¿no sabes que el príncipe de este mundo, que usa el mundo para tentarte, te lo acabará quitando? ¿Qué te pide tu Salvador sino mirar las cosas como realmente son, considerarlas como puros instrumentos suyos, y creer que lo bueno es bueno porque Él lo quiere, que Él puede otorgar sus bendiciones por medio de piedras duras lo mismo que por medio de pan, en el desierto lo mismo que en un campo cuajado de frutos, si tenemos fe en Él, que nos da el verdadero pan del cielo?…»

But if there be those among us, and such there well may be, who, like the young ruler, «worshipping Christ,» and «loved» by Him, and obeying His commandments from their youth up, yet cannot but be «sorrowful» at the thought of giving up their pleasant visions, their childish idolatries, and their bright hopes of earthly happiness, such I bid be of good cheer, and take courage. What is it your Saviour requires of you, more than will also be exacted from you by that hard and evil master, who desires your ruin? Christ bids you give up the world; but will not, at any rate, the world soon give up you? Can you keep it, by being its slave? Will not he, whose creature of temptation it is, the prince of the world, take it from you, whatever he at present promises? What does your Lord require of you, but to look at all things as they really are, to account them merely as His instruments, and to believe that good is good because He wills it, that He can bless as easily by hard stone as by bread, in the desert as in the fruitful field, if we have faith in him who gives us the true bread from heaven?