The Not-So-Dumb Ox
Reginald, I cannot, because all that I have written seems like straw to me.
Thomas Aquinas, in response to Reginald of Piperno’s urgent request he return to work
During our school days, we all saw the poor souls who were so different from other students face constant ridicule. Maybe they stood out because they were smarter, more dedicated, shorter, awkward, socially inept, or just looked or sounded different. For many of them the daily grind of school was an unending chain of ridicule. Every generation has a percentage of people who serve as targets for the mockery of others. Some would go on to achieve great things; others would drop out.
Some may not have fit in during their school years but blossomed in their adult years. I went to school with several such people. One was hopelessly awkward, and he endured more emotional hardship than anyone his age should have to. Another of my classmates cared little what others thought. He had a gift for the sciences, and spent some of his nonschool hours working at a prestigious cancer research department of a nearby medical school. In his adult years he has dedicated his time and efforts in the fight against diseases such as diabetes.
The Tough Beginning
Around 1225, in the family castle in Lombardy, in the kingdom of Naples, a noble Italian family welcomed the birth of their ninth child, a son. His father, Landulf, the count of Aquino and his mother, Theodora, the countess of Teano, named him Thomas.
Even as a child Thomas Aquinas showed a devout nature, and so his family sent him to school at a nearby abbey. He would go from there to study at the finest schools of his day. Those days were not easy. At the University of Naples, his fellow students called Aquinas “the dumb ox,” most likely because of his physical heft, his less than handsome appearance, and his quiet, taciturn nature. Although he might have appeared as a dumb ox to his classmates, he was not. He had a keen intellect, a dedication to study, the ability to think in the abstract, and the ability to formulate answers to complex questions. His teacher, Dominican monk Albertus Magnus, predicted the young man would change the world: “We call this young man a dumb ox, but his bellowing in doctrine will one day resound throughout the world.”1 This echoes a statement made by a “holy hermit” before Thomas’ birth: “He will enter the Order of Friars Preachers, and so great will be his learning and sanctity that in his day no one will be found to equal him.”2
Albertus Magnus so impressed Aquinas that he decided he too would join the ranks of the Dominicans, but despite the pre-birth prediction of the holy hermit, his parents did not share Aquinas’ spiritual enthusiasm. Monks lived a harsh life and took a vow of poverty, something his parents, people of nobility, did not want to see their son endure. They tried to persuade him to seek positions in the church that provided greater comfort and more esteem. They even offered to buy him the position of archbishop of Naples, but Thomas had no interest in this and remained determined to become a Dominican monk. His parents, apparently out of desperation, had him kidnapped and held him against his will for well over a year. In addition to this unorthodox act, they even went so far as to tempt him with a prostitute in hopes that he would leave behind the idea of being a monk. Their efforts failed. Thomas Aquinas, in spite of the wiles of his parents, would become a Dominican monk.
An Old Philosophy Made New
Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher, lived fifteen hundred years before Thomas Aquinas. While his work was well-known in some parts of the world, much of it had been lost in Europe. When the thinking of Aristotle was reintroduced, it made a splash. Thinkers of every kind studied the old philosopher. Thomas Aquinas was one of them.
In the church of that day, however, ancient philosophies that emphasized reason and observation were not well-received. Aquinas did not let that stop him. He made it his goal to understand Aristotle and to see how much of the philosopher’s thinking could be applied to Christianity and what should be dismissed. His ruminations would lead to one of the most famous writings in church history: the Summa Theologica—summary of theology. Although he wrote other material, this book is by far his best known.
“In sacred theology, all things are treated from the standpoint of God,” Thomas states in the beginning of his work, thus establishing his Christian approach. The book is structured into three parts (Part I: Theology, Part II: Ethics, Part III: Christ) and contains 3000 articles, 38 tracts, 631 questions, and 10,000 objections and answers. Thomas introduces each subject with a question, raises objections that others had voiced or might bring up, and replies to those objections.
It was a monumental work. One recent translation runs five volumes and more than three thousand pages. Impressive as that is, it is even more stunning to realize that the work is unfinished. Thomas died in 1274, leaving the work he had spent the last nine years composing incomplete.
Reason and Revelation
Thomas was a controversial scholar, and his use of a pagan philosopher in his reasoning created a few enemies. Thomas made no attempt to show human philosophy as greater than the Bible. Quite the contrary. He did, however, acknowledge that human reason was useful. Thomas’ scales had reason on one side and revelation on the other. To him, the two were complementary.
Reason, he argued, could lead a person to a belief in God but lacked the ability to provide the details necessary for the person to act on that faith. A person might see the endless universe and realize a Creator must be involved. From such observations, generalizations could be made, but those concepts lacked sufficient detail to paint a full picture. For that, one needed revelation. Revelation is the act of God whereby he reveals what would otherwise be unknown.
Today, theologians speak of “general” (sometimes called “natural” revelation) and “specific” revelation (sometimes called “special” revelation). General revelation describes how God is revealed through observation of nature; specific revelation is the information God made available through the Bible, prophecy, and Christ. General revelation might suggest that there is a God who loves us, but specific revelation is needed for us to know it as a fact (John 3:16, for example) and to see how that love was displayed through Christ. Reason is limited to sensory knowledge, what we learn by observation; revelation is detailed and personal. Reason is good, Thomas believed, but revelation was necessary. Understanding always came back to God. His teaching on reason versus revelation is appreciated by Protestants and Catholics alike.
First Cause
Thomas also offered five arguments for the existence of God. He called them “ways.” Three of the “ways” are forms of the cosmological argument, a reasoning based on Aristotle’s belief that every effect has a cause, and that cause has a cause, and that cause has a cause, and so on until we reach the First Cause—God—who started everything. Another one of his “ways” is now called the “teleological argument.” Although teleology might not be a familiar word, the concept is simple: if we see a design, then there must be a designer. The interstate freeway system did not come about by accident or a confluence of coincidence. Someone conceived of the system of roads and designs were made. Thomas saw design in the universe as well as concepts unique to humanity (beauty, truth), and said those things could only come about if there is a God.
Thomas Aquinas was Roman Catholic through and through. He believed the church was a channel of salvation, and salvation could not be had apart from the church. Although many of the concepts of the Roman Church came about before Thomas’ day, his writings gave them greater weight and would become some of the hallmarks of the world’s largest church.
Purgatory was one concept Thomas defended. He believed that those who are evil went straight to hell after death, while the godly went to heaven and less dedicated believers went to purgatory. Purgatory comes from a Latin word meaning “purifying.” It was believed (and still is in the Roman Catholic Church) that the bulk of the deceased, who are not holy enough for immediate entry into heaven, pay for their sins in purgatory until such time that they can be received into the joys of heaven. He went even further in this thinking by teaching that the living could pray for the dead and those prayers would be beneficial to those being purified. In other words, the church’s influence could impact the souls of the dead. Purgatory is a doctrine rejected by Protestants and similar groups who find no evidence for it in the Bible.
Thomas also defended the sacraments as having the power to impart grace to the participant—that is, to help maintain salvation. He believed in the seven sacraments: baptism, confirmation, Eucharist (Lord’s Supper), extreme unction, marriage, penance, and ordination. Perhaps the most significant of these is the Eucharist. For Catholics then and now, the Eucharist is very special and miraculous. Thomas taught “transubstantiation,” a belief that the elements of the Lord’s Supper changed physically from wine and bread to the blood and flesh of Christ. Again, this is an idea Protestants reject.
Thomas defended the supremacy of the pope, salvation through the church alone, and grace received through the other sacraments.
All of this makes what Thomas Aquinas represents a conflicting bundle of ideas for Protestants, who appreciate his powerful arguments for the existence of God but who can’t accept his ideas about salvation through the church, purgatory, and transubstantiation. To Roman Catholics, however, he is one of the great teachers of the church.
Unfinished Work
Thomas’ work is central to the Roman Catholic Church, but he was not immediately elevated to the rare position of Doctor of the Church (doctor meaning “teacher”). Just thirty-three men hold that title, and getting on that list takes time. In Thomas’ case it took 314 years.
His greatest work—the book he gave nearly a decade of labor to—was never finished. Thomas told those close to him that he had received a vision and saw things that caused him to consider all his work as “straw.” He put down his pen and, despite the encouragement of others, refused to take it up again. The Summa sat incomplete. We don’t know what Thomas saw in the vision, but whatever it was, it took the wind from his sails.
Three months later, he died. It was March 7, 1274. He was forty-nine years old. One church history sums up his life this way:
The influence of Thomas Aquinas even today is profound and widespread: it is seen in theology, philosophy, ethics and in major issues facing government and other branches of society. The Christian of such a deep, broad, and lasting impact is a kind of thinker with the kind of vision that the church needs in every age.3
Whether we agree or disagree with certain aspects of his doctrine, one thing should be acknowledged: Thomas Aquinas must be numbered among those who shaped the church.