WE are told that the Church, in contrasting the natural and the supernatural life, has introduced a false distinction into morals; that she requires us to accept truths that we have not "evolved from our own hearts," but found presented to us as God's revelation in the Bible or in the doctrines of the Church. Such faith based on authority is pronounced "a deep corruption of the soul."{1}
It is the same with regard to the will. Morality is said to be explained as due not solely to activity of the will, but partly to grace and the Redemption; i.e., "to a process standing entirely outside the religious and moral consciousness of the individual."{2} This double reproach can, of course, be advanced only by modern free thought. It is applicable to orthodox Protestantism even more than to Catholicism. On the other hand, opponents in both camps condemn the Catholic theory of grace as being a "physical, supernatural elevation of life"; the sacraments are condemned as being "conjuring tricks," infusing grace, a supernatural substantial force, "like medicine."{3}
I may say, by way of introduction, that in theological language the word "nature" denotes, in its most general sense, the essence of a thing, and especially its essence in so far as it is connected with some definite activity. Hence we call natural the properties and effects which belong to a thing, the advantages that it acquires by its growth and activity, and the possessions, aids, and aims to which it is directed by its inner life and to which it has a right. Above all we apply the word "nature" to creation as a whole and to its order in conformity to law. In ordinary language man, the ruler of the irrational world is often excluded from nature in this sense; but in ethical and theological language the words "nature" and "natural" are used primarily of man and his disposition. This explanation will suffice to show that, in discussions of the latter kind, supernatural is not to be understood as equivalent to immaterial or supersensual, since the immaterial, spiritual soul belongs to man's natural substance, and spiritual and moral perfection to his natural destiny and obligation. Even religion, the turning of his mind to God, is not in itself anything supernatural, but the necessary completion of the spiritual life of man. As the life of the spirit is immortal, its natural, final end is conceivable as being in the world to come; and man, if he were limited to his own inner development and to the natural providence of God, would have to strive for this end and seek to attain it. It would be a happiness realized in the knowledge and love of God acquired through His creatures and imperishable.
On the other hand, we ascribe the quality of supernatural to what belongs neither to the essence of man, nor to the properties and attainments of this essence, nor to its claims and inward possibilities of development. We apply the word to those advantages which man cannot acquire by himself, but which the Creator must bestow upon him by virtue of His wisdom and justice, and not because of His act of creation. What is supernatural participates in the divine perfections in a way surpassing the disposition of man; it has its origin in God's favour freely bestowed, and its formal character is that it is gratuitous. These supernatural works of God are also parts of one whole; i.e., "a realm of the supernatural,"{4} with its varieties and gradations. In some cases a fact exceeds the natural order only in the manner of its accomplishment (miracles and prophecies). In others an advantage surpasses earthly human nature in the permanence of its effect, although it would not be considered supernatural for other creatures of a higher order (certain gifts of Paradise). In other cases, again, the gift includes an approximation to God, going far beyond anything to which a creature could lay claim. Such a gift is grace, the inward quickening of life, the equipment of a man with actual and habitual graces, and the grace of justification and adoption by God. In the realm of the supernatural the final end forms the completion that throws light and glory on the whole, and this end is the happiness of heaven, far exceeding every anticipation and need of the human heart. The supernatural character of this happiness lies in seeing God "face to face," in knowing Him as He is, and in the love and joy proceeding from this knowledge and contemplation.
Even in its original purity the natural, spiritual, and moral activity of man was not enough to establish or merit the life of grace, and it was far less possible for man to acquire such a life when in a state of sin and weakness.{5} Yet there is no antagonism or incompatibility, but an inward relationship and connection, between nature and grace; the spiritual nature of man, created in the likeness of God, presupposes grace and possesses an interior susceptibility to follow the call of grace and to grasp its constraining force.{6}
According to this conception of the supernatural, it is taken for granted that the presence of grace raises the soul and imparts to it strength, beauty, and fertility. Grace presupposes nature, just as the idea of perfection presupposes the existence of something capable of perfection. Perfection is the development of a potentiality into action, of a capacity into a reality, and hence, in speaking of the faculties of the soul, it means an increased ability to convert capacity into reality.{7}
Grace, as we have just seen, presupposes nature, just as faith presupposes natural knowledge.{8} The supernatural, final end of man, and the order of salvation tending to it, can only be recognized as graces, freely bestowed by God upon man by means of a supernatural communication; viz., by revelation and faith. Most of the doctrines of Christianity and its institutions of grace are, in relation to our cognition, supernatural both in their substance and intellectually; their truth and reality are grasped only by faith, and they remain in many cases to the believing mind a secret shrouded in impenetrable darkness. Modern rationalism and autonomism rebel against these supernatural truths. Herrmann remarks: "We should regard it as sinful to treat a statement as true, unless its ideas coincide with our own."{9} His true meaning is revealed more plainly when he says that all our thoughts must evolve from our own hearts and be based upon our own experience.{10}
But with the statement thus worded more explicitly, its falsehood becomes at once apparent. We have acquired many ideas and much knowledge regarding history, geography, and physics, and we act in accordance with them, without having witnessed the historical events or visited the places or understood -- much less discovered -- the physical laws. If, then, the only-begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, reveals to us certain things regarding God and eternity, are we to refuse to believe them because we have not evolved them out of our own hearts? Our whole spiritual knowledge of truth depends ultimately not upon any evolution of truth from within, but upon the acceptance of truth, objectively presented to us, and upon action in conformity with it. The clearest difference between faith and knowledge is generally admitted to be that, in the case of faith, the testimony of others takes the place of interior reasoning. "Quod scimus, debemus rationi, quod credimus, auctoritati." Have all who, following St. Augustine, accepted this distinction said what was contrary to common sense and morality? Herrmann will not deny that the Gospels, unless they are critically "expurgated," demand faith in the supernatural, and that St. Paul makes acceptance of the resurrection the fundamental article of faith and regards submission to God's revelation as essential.{11} Harnack says that the Apostolic Fathers regard faith as "reliance on the truth of a number of sacred traditions."{12}
The apologetic writers of the second century look upon faith as the "recognition of the mission of Christ, the Son of God, and the conviction of the truth of His doctrines";{13} and all subsequent doctors of the Catholic Church hold the same opinion; and the reformers and their disciples, although they altered the idea of faith, retained its dogmatic character. Even Plato and Aristotle admit that "a philosopher by no means derives his knowledge of divine things solely from his divinely inspired inner consciousness, but he has at the same time to refer to tradition, to which religious sanction is attached."{14} In the face of so much evidence taken from history and religion, Herrmann, not satisfied to express modestly his own contrary opinion in the way of criticism, dares to speak of the want of common sense and morality as being involved in the old idea of faith, just as if it were something perfectly obvious to every rational human being!
For thousands of years men had been striving to attain to a knowledge of God and inward peace by their own spiritual and moral efforts. History before the Christian era had taught that on these lines no pure, trustworthy, and consoling religion was attainable, even for the individual, much less for mankind as a whole. The Revelation given in Christ offered a wealth of heavenly truth to man in his desire for light and sanctity; he did not evolve it from his own mind, but in faith accepted it, relying upon Christ's wonderful testimony. The Church, being commissioned by our Lord Himself to teach all nations, has passed on these good tidings to every race, and thus she has constructed Christendom as we know it historically.
If Herrmann's idea of faith were correct, there would be at the present time no Christianity, no Bible, no knowledge of Christ as "the manifestation of the Almighty's good will." If our own feelings and experiences were the sole infallible criteria of truth, every vagary of visionary mysticism would be justified, and religious truth, stripped of its objective dignity, would be at the mercy of every fantastic opinion.{15}
God's thoughts are not always "our thoughts." In Isaias we read: "As the heavens are exalted above the earth, so are my ways exalted above your ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts."{16} St. Paul applies the word "mystery" not only to isolated doctrines of the Gospel, such as the resurrection,{17} but to Christianity as a whole, and speaks of the mystery hidden from all eternity, but revealed through him as "minister of the Church."{18} If God and not man is the measure of truth, the fact that it is difficult for us to comprehend a religious revelation is no evidence of its being untrue. "The reason of man," says Goethe, "and the reason of God are two quite different things." According to Lessing's well-known remark about Revelation, "to a reasonable man it ought to be a proof of its truth rather than an argument against it if he finds in Revelation things that surpass his understanding."
Such mysterious doctrines are not without a bearing on our spiritual and moral life. The history of art and science, as well as that of religious thought, shows that when the human intellect adopts new and lofty ideas, which it has not evolved from itself, accepting them as true, it is by no means "mentally crippled." Can we describe as intellectual cripples men like St. Athanasius, St. Augustine, St. Thomas, Bossuet, and Leibniz, all of whom accepted and respected the supernatural element in Christianity and tried to press forward "through faith to knowledge"? Have not the very dogmas that are most offensive to modern minds exercised the most profound and beneficial influence upon the development of art, such as the Virgin Birth of Christ, His death upon the cross, and His presence in the Blessed Sacrament? The same thing that awakened the inspiration of the artist was the chief cause of piety which in its turn gave rise to moral heroism and devoted charity. Whence could the martyrs have derived their hope and courage, whence could the teachers of the faith have drawn their zeal for souls, how could the virgins sanctified to God have renounced the world, had they not believed in our Lord's resurrection and divinity and in His mystical life in the Church? Can subjective faith, based on reason or the emotions, produce anything great enough to compare with the flood of light bursting forth from the obscurity of these mysteries? Has it ever for even a short time exerted a similar influence upon the thoughts, life, and actions of men, rendering them fruitful in good works, holy and contented?
With regard to the fact of Revelation, on which our faith is based, we certainly ought to be able, by examining its proofs, to arrive at a reasonable conviction of its truth. Herrmann speaks of a "naive reflection," of a "deadening" of all thought, when we Catholics refer to the miracles wrought by Christ and the apostles as evidence in support of Revelation. He thinks that the historical accounts of these occurrences can never produce absolute certainty.{19}
This is not the place to discuss the abundant reasons (over and above the miracles wrought by Christ and the apostles) which satisfy a Catholic that his faith rests on a moral and rational basis; such a discussion belongs to apologetics. It is, however, interesting to see upon what foundation Herrmann builds up his own faith. Faith is supposed to be produced in the soul by a revelation made by God to the individual, in which God makes Himself known as the good will dominating over all real existence. This revelation is effected through Christ; His moral excellence, as presented to us in the Gospel, awakens confidence in a moral force controlling all reality.{20}
Now Herrmann asserts that every detail in the traditional account of Christ is historically open to criticism; how, then, can His moral sanctity -- as contrasted to His miracles -- appear as an undoubted fact? Herrmann replies: "The evident force and perfection of this spiritual life fills us with such reverence that it is impossible for us to regard it as a product of the human imagination." Therefore Herrmann first breaks off the traditional connection with Christ, and then proceeds to reëstablish from his own inner consciousness the historical fact that Christ led a holy life, making it the actual foundation of his faith. No less clear and "certain" is it in his opinion that God speaks to him in this inner consciousness; this is the second, formal foundation of his faith. Herrmann ought not to be surprised if most people "who can lay any claim to higher intellectual training" regard such an argument on his part as another "naive reflection."{21}
A. Messer has severely criticised Herrmann's theory of religious knowledge in his "Einführung in die Erkenntnistheorie," 1909, p. 172, etc. With reference to a lecture given by Herrmann on "Faith in God and modern science," A. Neumann remarks that, judging it from a religious-theoretical point of view, it produced a most unpleasant impression; the ideas with which Herrmann started were "obscure and very carefully limited," his standpoint was "a constructive kind of scepticism," involving serious danger of illusionism, and that he has absolutely no right to look with scornful compassion at Christian philosophy, which still accepts theoretical truths in matters of religion.{22}
Herrmann's strange confusion of contradictory assertions, relegating religion to the sphere of the imagination, and self-assured, critical superiority, reaches its climax in the statements in the third edition of his "Römische und evangelisehe Sittlichkeit," pp. 59-80, where he attempts to refute my arguments given in the preceding pages. All that he says proves that his ideas of knowledge, truth, and reality differ so widely from those of other people that we cannot hope to arrive at a mutual understanding. Throughout his discussion he places himself upon the standpoint of socalled psychologism and pragmatism, according to which truth consists, not in the real substance of thought, but in its psychological reality or practical utility. Herrmann's remarks suggest a serious doubt whether, in speaking of "the life of the spirit," "the supreme power," and the "spirit of goodness and justice," he is really alluding to the living, supramundane God, or to some pantheistic universal spirit; if to the latter, his "experience of the Godhead," and his description of piety as "an interior recollection in the self-evolved thought of the everlasting power of the good will," become intelligible, and his rejection of revelation and faith in authority would be self-evident.
However this may be, it was obviously Herrmann's duty, in defending himself, to reproduce objectively his opponent's arguments. I had said that we appropriate mentally many facts and thoughts and much information that we have not evolved for ourselves nor experienced; and yet we take them as the basis of our actions. This statement showed the falsity of his alternative: either self-evolved thoughts or the thoughts of others, forced upon us and "not expressing our own opinion," although we say "nothing against them." What is Herrmann's answer? "Mausbach ought not to urge that we often make use of ideas regarding things connected with geography, physics, etc., although we could not evolve them from ourselves. That we do so is a matter of course. But Mausbach assumes, after the genuine Romish fashion, that what is true in everyday concerns is still more true in matters of religion" (p. 60). In this passage Herrmann suppresses the chief point -- viz., our "mental appropriation" of the thoughts and knowledge of others; he represents me as alluding to the use of ideas not understood, and of external concerns, whereas I had expressly said that we appropriated the thoughts and made them our own, and although I was speaking of a "knowledge of truth" which I defined as an acceptation and following of objectively imparted truth.
It is characteristic of Herrmann that he makes no reference to the historical facts and truths that I had mentioned with the gcographical and physical; they would probably have too plainly recalled the historical character of Christianity, the personality of Christ and His works, our knowledge of which is based upon the testimony of others, In the same way Herrmann passes over St. Paul and his claim that we should have faith in the work of our salvation. With regard to St. Athanasius, St. Augustine, Bossuet, Leibniz, and Luther, however, Herrmann is obliged to admit that I am justified in quoting them in support of my own views; but he thinks that their erroncous idea of faith must be ascribed to the opinions current in their time, and that on the subject of religion the only questions asked were what was customary and what was traditional (p. 61). "For this reason it was not difficult for Christians at that time to allow ideas to be foisted upon them, of which their own souls knew nothing, so long as it was for the sake of religion. The more alien these ideas were, the more did they stimulate the imagination, provided that they appeared to be in some way connected with tradition" (p. 65). What a contemptuous degradation of the great minds of Christianity! No one reading St. Augustine's "Confessions" could believe that he had allowed ideas of others to be foisted upon him of which his own soul knew nothing! Herrmann speaks of the old faith as a religion based on the imagination, and yet he himself asserts that our hearts derive from God's revelation courage to produce new -- therefore not already experienced -- and wonderful thoughts, the substance of which thereby -- i.e., through their courageous production -- becomes reality; and he again declares the actuality of Christ to be an effect of the wonderful charm and beauty of His character (pp. 67, 8, 52, 78). Might not this much more reasonably be called a religion based on the imagination?
It is only too plain that no amount of repetitions or ingenious arguments can make such a philosophy of religion acceptable to an unprejudiced mind. Hence one of Herrmann's followers, who rejects as impossible all belief in doctrines, and defines faith as "a personal relation of intellects, an ebb and flow of mental forces, in which the strongest force makes the weaker subservient to it," complains that "it is a pity that so much mischief is done in the use of the words 'faith,' 'faithful,' and 'unbelieving.' In our use of these words we are still trammelled by the Middle Ages, and things have come to such a pass that we are almost compelled to devise a new terminology in order to express our thoughts."{23}
This remark is quite true, but it only shows how far these modern theologians have diverged from universal usage in thought and language. To be consistent, these inventors of a new terminology ought to begin with the ideas of "truth" and "reality," for these words, too, have a new meaning on their lips. Would any one telling a story, and wishing to asseverate the truth of his report, make use of Herrmann's expression and say that "he had evolved the whole out of his inner consciousness" (p. 59)? What would an ordinary man think if to his question "Is that true?" he would receive the answer: "Of course it is true, I have produced it from my own heart and evolved it from sources contained in my own consciousness" (p. 59)?
The phenomenon that Protestantism is far more than Catholicism susceptible to critical attacks upon faith in dogmas and to religious subjectivism, is not due solely to the fact that the Reformation identifies justifying faith with a conviction of personal salvation. Catholicism also requires besides faith, which believes in the truth of redemption, the hope that grasps it with confidence. The chief reason of this phenomenon is that the teaching office of the Church is denied and in its place the principle of "independent investigation" is established. Further, in connection with this, all the historical arguments in support of Christianity upon which the Catholic Church relies, and with right, are cast aside as worthless, in favour of subjective grounds for faith. The straining of the contrast between reason and faith, which appears so prominently with Luther, has called forth from enlightened thinkers a severe and reckless criticism of faith. Finally, however, -- and this is essential also for the doctrine of faith, -- all comprehension of the truths of faith that lie beyond the sphere of reason must disappear in the degree that men deny the supernatural dignity of the Christian aim and standard in life. To the present day Protestant theology has continued to attack the Catholic teaching as to the twofold condition of man, the natural and the supernatural, maintaining that it involves taking a superficial view of the relation existing between nature and grace.
According to the New Testament, the final aim and heavenly calling of a Christian surpasses all human thoughts and imagination and is comprehensible only by the help of the Spirit of God;{24} it is free and mysterious, decreed by God for His own glory and for the welfare of His creatures,{25} and it includes the riches of divine glory and the exceeding greatness of His power.{26} Christ is the mediator and surety of this calling, and when we are mystically united to Him in baptism, the higher life begins in us here below and the powers of the world to come are planted in us;{27} we become God's children, endued with His Spirit, new creatures, in the form of God.{28}
While, according to Protestant opinions, the union with God of one in a state of grace is exhausted in the conscious activity of man and in submission to God's will, St. Paul says that the Holy Ghost worketh in us "more abundantly than we desire or understand,"{29} and asketh "for us with unspeakable groanings."{30} St. John describes the mystical new birth and uplifting of the soul in a similar way; he says that we are born of God and have His seed abiding in us, so that we live in Him and He in us,{31} and all because "He hath given us of His Spirit."{32}
The Church has never lost sight of this supernatural and mystical side of Christian sanctity, which was especially extolled by the Greek Fathers and subsequently received its definite theological expression in the doctrine of sanctifying grace. That this theory is based upon the New Testament is acknowledged by modern Protestant theologians. According to Holtzmann, St. Paul teaches a "real, genuine new creation, a renewal of the whole personality from its lowest foundation."{33} Jacoby says: "Through the pneuma of God, acting within a Christian, there is formed in him also a pneuma an ethical quality, which is essentially akin to God's quality."{34} In another place he remarks that in St. John "the mystical union between Christ and His followers is represented as the mysterious source of moral action."{35}
Not only the Greek Fathers, but also St. Augustine speaks of man in the state of grace as no "mere creature" or "only a human being," but as "participating in the divine nature" and "deified." This is more than a mere rhetorical phrase. Just as the humanity of Christ was supernaturally exalted by personal union with the Son of God, so does every Christian receive in grace a supernatural restoration to life. This restoration is mystical and lies beyond our consciousness. Baptized children "know not the Holy Ghost that dwelleth in them," and its full meaning is hidden even from adult Christians, who resemble trees in winter -- their life is concealed and will reveal itself resplendent only in the spring of the world to come.{36}
St. Thomas alludes to the fact that, according to Holy Scripture, God loves those in a state of grace in a peculiar manner, looking upon them as His friends. But His love has a creative force and gives rise to the good that makes us worthy of love, whereas human love is caused and evoked by the goodness already present in the beloved. Therefore whenever God has special love for any human being, special goodness must be communicated to him by God, and he must possess a special perfection. The advance of man towards his supernatural goal cannot, according to St. Thomas, be effected solely by means of actual graces; it is only when grace is a permanent condition, an interior principle of existence and action, that the Christian life is revealed as a spontaneous development, homogeneous with the final end, and the supernatural life of virtue forms a higher analogy and culmination of the natural life with its inward motive powers.{37}
But how is this higher life communicated to man? The spirit bloweth where it listeth, but just as God, being a spirit, chose the human nature of Christ in order by its means to procure grace for mankind, so did He destine the Church, the mystical body of Christ, to be the permanent channel for the distribution of His grace. At the Incarnation He divested Himself of His Godhead to assume our flesh, and in His death on the cross He gave up His vital force by visibly shedding His Blood, In the same way in the sacraments the Holy Ghost effects the sanctification of the soul through the agency of created means. These mysteries become intelligible not merely through their deep, underlying connection with the humanity of Jesus Christ, they are venerable and beneficial also as significant symbols, as consoling pledges, as belonging to the common cultus, and as means of furthering the faith.
The grace of the Holy Ghost, which communicates a higher existence to Christians, is designed to render their actions more fruitful. Their mystical communion with God is, as we have seen, the mysterious source of ethical communion in God. "If we live in the spirit, let us also walk in the spirit."{38} The close relation between grace and morality is apparent throughout the Catholic doctrine of justification. Catholicism teaches that man, in spite of the loss of power due to the Fall, still retains in his mind and will a capacity for natural morality and ability to receive a higher supernatural endowment; hence he can and must freely cooperate with the grace that arouses him to action. Although he cannot merit the higher life of grace, he can prepare himself for it by moral activity. Grace plays a prominent part also in this moral preparation. Every higher effort of the will presupposes a corresponding enlightenment of the mind; our Lord's miracles in the Gospel were invariably dependent upon the faith of those in whose favour they were worked, In the same way, with regard to justification, faith must recognize the supernatural destiny of a Christian and the wonderful sanctification offered in Christ, before the will can exert itself to strive after salvation and make it the guiding star in life. Through fear and hope the will is then enabled resolutely to turn away from sin and to begin to love God; i.e., it resolves to dedicate its life to God and to order its moral actions in conformity with His laws and the example of Christ. Only he who approaches the sacrament in this spirit will receive remission of his sins and sanctifying grace.{39} When grace has thus entered into the soul, its connection with morality becomes still more manifest. As it is life, it must grow and be fruitful in good works, and good works contain in themselves the germ of eternal glory.{40}
On more than one point the dogma of the Reformers destroyed this harmonious connection. According to Luther, sin did not deprive us of supernatural gifts, but degraded our nature. The will is not free, but merely the instrument of some divine or diabolical power, incapable of answering to the call of grace by making an independent moral choice. Our only salvation is the redemption effected by Christ and laid hold of by us in faith. This justice, however, remains something essentially exterior and foreign to ourselves; it really and properly belongs only to Christ and is simply imputed to us. Thus fundamentally the work of redemption was completed for all men when Christ died on the cross; subjective redemption is limited to a process of the mind whereby the individual arrives at certainty regarding the absolute sufficiency of Christ's holiness.
The profoundly realistic Catholic theory of grace as a higher life implanted in the soul cannot be reconciled with this nominalism, according to which God declares the soul to be just, although it is not so. The weakening of this fundamental doctrine by emphasizing the ethical effects of faith, new birth, etc., does not alter its dominating character. Luther's retention of the sacraments of Baptism and Holy Communion was altogether inconsistent with his doctrine of justification by faith alone. In maintaining the importance of infant baptism and the justification resulting from it, Luther sacrificed the "great doctrine of the Reformers regarding faith" and reintroduced the idea of opus operatum;{41} and in admitting the Real Presence, he allowed the greatest "mystery," the vital point in every "mystical view" of Christian sanctity, to resume its prominent position. Even during Luther's lifetime this contradiction led to divisions among Protestants, and its destructive influence continued to be felt in subsequent years.{42} A great many gradually ceased to understand these remnants of a supernatural view of Christian salvation, and the more learned were quite right in declaring that the Christian doctrines regarding grace and redemption, as understood and formulated by Luther, were antagonistic to natural religion and morality, and consequently they were right in treating these doctrines as they did.
Even to the mind of a believer there is much obscurity and mystery attaching to the relation in which nature stands to grace; and therefore some thoughts, old indeed but full of wisdom, are theoretically and practically important on this subject. Not all mysticism is superstition; the most profound philosophy reveals a mystical feature. We gain access to God not only by searching after Him with our understanding, but also by a direct uplifting of our hearts in faith or in inspired contemplation. Not only the postulates of practical reason and the exertion of the will promote moral progress, but also the immediate stimulus given to the spirit by God's light and strength.
This is the thought underlying all sound mysticism; the great pagan philosophers had some foreshadowing of it, but it reached its full development in Christianity. Such immediate, inconceivable contact with what is divine occurs in the efficacy of the sacraments and in the indwelling of the Holy Ghost. This is far different from the effects of "magic." We call a process "magical" when insufficient causes are expected to produce a higher effect, when what is material is thought to give rise to what is spiritual, what is created to what is divine.
Now the efficacy of the sacraments depends not upon the human being who administers them, nor upon signs used by creatures, but upon the Holy Ghost, who employs the human being and human action as His instruments. Let us take an illustration from everyday life: It would be magical, if a pen wrote words and thoughts by itself; but there is nothing magical about it when the pen is guided by the hand of an intelligent being. The means of grace have not a magical effect because in their case the cause is not only equal to the result, but it is the divine and universal Cause, the source of all being and all life. "God's grace, given to be our aid, flows from the same source as that whence we have received our existence, the beginning of our being, the forces and tendencies of our nature"{43}; viz., God Himself. In this way we exclude altogether the pagan idea that some rite or formula, devised by human beings, could force God to change His mind and determine upon certain actions. The sacraments have no "magical" effect for the further reason that they do not eliminate, but take for granted, promote, and fructify the moral dispositions of men. What we may call the "supermorality," contained in them, includes morality; but all magic is below the standard of morals and therefore immoral.
It is impossible to think too seriously of the connection between the divine and the human factor in Christian virtue, In the first place, the human ideal of morality is not destroyed in the order of grace; as morality is essentially directed towards the highest, absolute Good, it may be transfigured by grace, but not altered. The supernatural truths of faith supply fresh motives to virtue, intensifying the fervour of our efforts, but not disturbing the rules laid down by the natural law for morality. St. Augustine says of the Old and New Testaments: praecepta eadem, sacramenta non eadem, and St. Thomas applies these words to the relation in which morality stands to religious knowledge; faith has increased, but the moral law has remained the same.{44}
In its realization, also, the claims of morality are not diminished, and moral activity is not, as Kant feared would be the case, weakened or replaced by grace, but it receives fresh impulse. It belongs to the marvels of grace, rather than the order of grace, for divine activity to release a man from moral exertions. To believe that the more God does, the less there is for man to do, is as fatal a mistake as it is to suppose that the more we pray, the less need is there for work. A false assumption of this kind is the cause of the discouragement felt when, in spite of many prayers, our efforts on behalf of education and our battling for the Church, etc., are unsuccessful; and the same cause underlies our despondency when, after spending hours in prayer, we again fall a prey to our old frailties and faults. Not only in order to make us practise faith and humility does God hide His activity behind created forces, but He acts thus also because the interior order of things requires the divine and human factors to work together, and not one independently of the other. Otherwise the natural sequence of life would be broken up into a series of miracles and the motive power of natural virtue, and especially of prudence, would be destroyed, whilst the relations of creatures to one another would cease to exist and be merged into one sole relation towards God. According to Catholic teaching, as a rule the reverse holds good: the more abundant the grace, the higher is the independent activity required of man, and thus grace is shown to be a principle of life and of perfection. Grace, including sanctifying grace, is not a substance cut off from God and resting in the soul of man, but it is the light and life ever proceeding from the Holy Ghost and ever being communicated to the soul, which it penetrates, transfigures, and renders ardent and eager for good.{45}
In supernatural matters it is not possible to add and subtract grace and individual activity so as to make a plus on one side denote a minus on the other; the good is wholly the action of grace and wholly the action of man.{46} Mediaeval asceticism laid down the golden rule: "Trust in God, as if the whole issue depended upon Him, but work as if all must be accomplished by thyself alone and unaided."
A striking illustration is afforded us by organic life, which even in Holy Scripture is used as a type of grace. Modern biology shows that the chemical and physical forces are not suspended in animals and plants, but make themselves felt in every part and in every manifestation of organic life. At no point does the mysterious vital force take the place of these lower forces, and yet life is something far above the sum of chemical forces, because a higher wisdom, having an aim in view, controls their action; and the soul is more than a vortex of millions of atoms, because the whole as a unit takes precedence of and dominates the particles of matter. The connection between mind and the senses in man supplies us with another, perhaps still more apt, comparison. Our thought is dependent upon our imagination, upon our brain; we cannot form an idea unless we have some sense conception and an analogous action of the brain. We are incapable of thought if our sensitive faculties fail in consequence of excessive stimulation of the brain. Yet the mind of man is more than the animal soul, and the great achievement of thought cannot be explained by stimulus of the nerve centres. In the same way the supernatural forces imparted by grace require, it is true, natural freedom, and morality in their action, but on the other hand in their essence, dignity, and fruits they are absolutely superior to freedom and morality.{47} From the supernatural character of grace itself it follows that it is not directly and infallibly recognizable by our self-consciousness. Moreover, the gifts infused by grace are not primarily definite forces, but tendencies to and capacity for supernatural activity.{48} Now even in the natural life of the soul we have direct cognizance only of acts, the substance of the faculties, not of the faculties themselves; otherwise there could not be so many different opinions regarding the reality and number of the faculties of the soul. It is true that indirectly, from facts belonging to the religious and moral consciousness, there are certain points d'appui which afford us moral certainty of being in the state of grace. The Catholic system also admits of such a certainty, but not of an absolute, dogmatic assurance of salvation, in the sense required by Luther.
It is true that, in the Christian life, there are workings of grace which suggest most forcibly its divine origin; there are thoughts full of light and consolation that arise out of the soul; impulses filling an undecided or dispirited will with assurance and energy. When we look back over long periods of life, and see wisdom and mercy revealing a design that gives unity to all the accidents of our earthly existence, and a mighty will steadying our wavering tendencies and turning them into the right path, we feel still more convinced that grace is of divine origin. Man is lord only of each moment as it passes; the guidance of times and events is in God's hand. The supremacy of a higher principle is much more obvious in the lives of the saints, where it amounts to extraordinary manifestations, to those "ethical miracles" which, like miracles in the physical order, afford certainty of divine causality.
From the time of St. Paul's miraculous conversion and mysterious ecstasy, grace has never ceased to raise to heights of heroic sanctity those chosen to receive it in overpowering fulness, and by its marvellous consolations it has lifted them above all earthly sufferings and trials. With regard to the moral perfection of the saints, it has been rightly said that it is possible to challenge individual actions of a saint, but that their sanctity as a whole is beyond question and forms one of the brightest spots in the history of the world, In the same way many mystical occurrences in the story of the saints provoke criticism, but mysticism as a whole is included in Catholic sanctity and is upheld and justified by it. Moreover, considering the life of the Church as a whole, we find the divine element characterized by the permanence, participating in the eternal, which it bestows upon the temporal struggles of mankind. The slender seedling planted by men like St. Benedict and St. Francis seems placed in a soil far richer and more productive than the measure of their actual human talent, their natural power and foresight. Many other works of the saints display the greatest disproportion between the natural gifts and conscious intentions of their author and the magnificent and permanent results of his labour. As the Psalmist says, the works of the wicked perish like dust, but the righteous is "like a tree which is planted near the running waters, which shall bring forth its fruit in due season, and his leaf shall not fall off."{49}
As has been said above (p. 315), like the natural, so the supernatural forms a kingdom or cosmos. Although the splendour of this kingdom, like the life of grace in the individual, is at present "hidden with Christ in God" and will be revealed completely only in the Church Triumphant, yet the Church Militant, being the congregation of the redeemed and inspired by the Holy Ghost, is even now the most imposing historical manifestation of the supernatural. Miraculous, supernatural events accompanied her entrance into the world and have shed their light on her course through history. Her solid foundation, that none can move, and her living growth have always distinguished her from all, even the greatest, temporal institutions, with their liability to fluctuation and change. She teaches with divine authority, and with logical accuracy she develops the dogmatic truth committed to her charge. She interweaves most precious and mysterious means of grace with the natural life of man, thus bringing it into immediate connection with the world to come; in specific states, dedicated to God, she removes souls with noble aspirations from earthly interests, to devote their undivided attention to the supernatural. The imperishable, fruitful "tree" of moral sanctity on earth, of which there was mention, is planted beside running waters of the Church and derives its vigorous life from her sources. Here, too, it is plain that grace, far from injuring nature, actually uplifts and furthers it. The Church of the supernatural life protects and strengthens the foundations of all natural, spiritual, and social civilization. She preserves philosophy from destructive errors; she encourages ethics to keep in view what is universal and beyond the sphere of the senses; she purifies and inspires the productive genius of the arts, and she upholds those principles and rights without which the state and society would eventually perish, in spite of their possessing great authority and power.
Protestants, in their recent researches, show that the mystical and sacramental element was far more highly developed in primitive Christianity than was formerly supposed to be the case.{50} As a matter of fact, everything essential in the mediaeval doctrine of the opus operatum was already taught then. Cardinal Newman regarded the doctrine of spiritual regeneration as a fundamental idea in Christianity, which the Church has rightly placed as the central point in her dogmatic teaching and practically developed in her liturgy and cultus.{51}
Kant, the enemy of all mysticism, to whom most modern objections against the doctrine of grace and the sacraments can be traced, nevertheless admits that the impossibility of grace cannot be proved, and that ultimately the freedom of the will is "as incomprehensible as the supernatural." Even during Kant's lifetime many great men, with more emotional dispositions, rejected his ethical rationalism. Goethe was inclined to recognize in all productivity of the highest kind the action of a divine influence, beyond the control of man. In "Faust" he expressed as a fundamental idea the theory that we are saved not merely through our own strength, but "through divine grace added to our strength." In describing the release and salvation of his hero, he makes use of thoughts and descriptions borrowed from Catholic mysticism, and he does so in a way that deserves for him, far more than for the Church, the reproach of seeing in it something magical.
Goethe's brilliant and appreciative account of the Seven Sacraments in "Dichtung und Wahrheit" (Bk. VII) is well known. He expresses, above all, great admiration for the organic connection between the various means of grace, and for the way in which the Catholic priesthood is adapted to them. Jean Paul Richter asks on one occasion: "Is it not a consoling thought that we possess this hidden wealth in our souls? May we not hope that, without being aware of it, we love God better than we know, and that some silent instinct is preparing us for the world to come?"
Of more recent writers Eucken should be mentioned, who abandons the optimistic valuation of morality based on reason, and regards it as essential that fresh forces should be brought to bear upon the soul, and its renewal effected, if the moral principle is to be saved and an absolute consecration to be given to life. "A breach with the past, a fresh beginning, a new existence, an inward miracle is necessary, if life is not to succumb to vast destructive and impeding forces and if our best energies are not to be frittered away to no purpose. This breach with the past and fresh beginning are required by all interior development; and, under the forms of grace and reconciliation, of self-conquest and self-sacrifice, it affects all human relations." Thus a higher life is communicated to ours; viz., the force of divine love and wisdom. "In these associations the gain is not to be regarded as the result of the exertions of an individual, but as the work of that supreme power which raises us from our embarrassments into a new world. In this way the achievement becomes a boon received, a gift of free grace. Without such a foundation all human life fades away and falls into decay; the victory of reason in the individual is inconceivable apart from its triumph in the whole race. Even the freedom of man, without which he cannot make the new world his own, is not a possession independent of that power, but it is something determined by it and continually proceeding from it."{52}
The idea, so emphatically stated above, that supernatural grace is something apart from human self-consciousness, that its action, however, is naturally perceptible at least if a wider view be taken of its whole development, agrees with the teaching of the theologians that grace is primarily the condition of supernatural, meritorious action, but that it is necessary also if natural morality is to be permanently maintained and if the manifold temptations, which we can resist singly with our natural strength, are to be overcome collectively.
In this sense some addition is needed to the analogy, already pointed out, with natural life. It seems that, at every point in the organism of a plant, the physical and chemical connection between cause and effect is enough to explain what is going on there; but for the whole, in its morphological and biological formation, a higher principle, making for some definite end, must be assumed to exist. In agreement with this theory Hilty remarks: "At the end of a great crisis there often comes a moment in human thought when a man looks backward and forward over his own life with almost superhuman impartiality. If, in looking at the past, he perceives many occasions when he might have gone astray, and was deterred only by what seems an almost miraculous intervention and providence of God, his heart swells with gratitude for graces received and rises to full confidence that the rest of his life will also be rich in blessings."{53}
It is desirable that Catholic writers on dogma should not only theoretically trace the principles of the doctrine of grace to their source, but should compare them, more accurately than has hitherto been done, with the facts of actual morality and illustrate them by means of experiences derived from the ascetic and mystical life. Such a defence of dogma from the point of view of morality is desirable, not only to ward off attacks made by scholars upon the mystical element in the sacraments,{54} but also because from time to time educated Catholic laymen find difficulties in the teaching of the Church on grace and on the means of grace. Difficulties of this kind are apt to result from the unsatisfactory state of Catholic districts where religion is zealously practised by priests, religious Orders, and influential classes of the people, yet no corresponding advancement and triumph of the principles that they represent is observed. The solution of the problem is to be found in the fact that grace refuses to act alone, but makes its claim upon human nature and liberty; it does not exclude spiritual, social, and moral efforts, but demands and blesses them. Many Christians use the means of grace and make intelligent and vigorous efforts to advance, but their progress is subject to so many conditions, the opposition of the sensual and individual is so strong, the conflict so bewildering and exhausting, that, in comparison with all this, the brilliant descriptions of the magnificence of grace, found in devotional writings, have a depressing rather than a convincing and encouraging effect.
Other dogmas regarding God, Christ, the angels, etc., are naturally beyond the sphere of human experience, but the doctrine of grace is so intimately connected with the moral life that no sharp dividing line can be drawn between its dogmatic and empirical aspects. For this reason we require a more profound and thorough appreciation of psychological and ethical knowledge in order to defend successfully the real truth and the harmonious structure of the dogma. If I may indicate a few thoughts needing consideration, I should like to see a demonstration of the fact that the life of grace as a rule has a very insignificant beginning and grows imperceptibly; that the obligation of the natural life to conform to law is not removed by the action of grace, and that only by steady perseverance this life is raised and adjusted; that a growing force may be for years habitual and latent, like a stream of water flowing underground, before it finally shows itself alive and victorious over obstacles; that a cultured and refined existence is, more so than a simpler one, liable to strong emotions and conflicts; that Christianity, being the religion of faith, humility, and struggle, must inevitably attach particular value to that kind of virtue which perseveres in spite of obscurity, poverty, and labour, and has no thought of its own greatness.
{1} Herrmann, p. 10.
{2} Wundt, op. cit., p. 262; Jodl, Gesch. der Ethik, I, 55, 74; v.. Hartmann, op. cit., p. 810.
{3} Harnack, Dogmengesch., 4th ed., III, 561, 566; Hase, op. cit., p. 340; Ziegler, op. cit., p. 291; Braun, op. cit., p. 108. A number of similar remarks emanating from Protestant theologians are cited by Seitz in Die Heilsnotwendigkeit der Kirche nach der altchristl. Literatur, 1903, p. 268.
{4} Cf. Scheeben, Dogmatik, II, 393; A. Weiss, Apologie, III, Natur und Uebernatur; Pohle, Natur und Uebernatur, 1913.
{5} Cf. supra, pp. 151, seq.
{6} St. Augustine, de praed., ss. 5, 10; St. Thomas, S. theol., I, q. 2, a. 2 ad 1: Fides praesupponit cognitionem naturalem sicut gratia naturam et ut perfectio perfectibile; I, II, q. 113, a. 10: Justificatio impii non est miraculosa, quia naturaliter anima est gratiae capax; eo enim ipso, quod facto est ad imaginem Dei, capax est Dei per gratiam. Pius X, ap. Denz., p. 2103: capacitas et convenientia. Scheeben, p. 400; Pohle, p. 333, etc.
{7} Cf. preceding note; Thom., S. theol., I, q. 1, a. 8 ad 2: Cum gratia non tollat naturam sed perficiat. . . . De malo, q. 2, a. 11: In natura animae vel cujuscumque creaturae rationalis est aptitudo quaedam ad gratiae susceptionem, et per gratiam susceptam fortificetur in debitis, aetibus. . . . Gratia naturam perficit et quantum ad intellectum et quantum ad voluntatem et quantum ad inferiores animae partes obedibiles rationi.
{8} See p. 314, note 2.
{9} Herrrnann, p. 5.
{10} Ibid., pp. 3, 9, 57.
{11} Cf. Rom. xv. 1, etc.
{12} Harnack, Dogmengesch., 3d ed., I, 163, note 2.
{13} Ibid., p. 501, note 2.
{14} Willmann, Gesch. des Idealismus, I, 411, etc., 453, etc.
{15} With reference to the Gnostics, K. Jentsck writes in the "Grenzbote," 1904, 1, 251: "The Gnostic organization would not have been able to take the place of the Church, because its leaders regarded themselves as Pneumatics, possessing knowledge not to be acquired by ordinary instruction. A body of men capable of such imaginations will inevitably in course of time become an association of fools, if they are not such from the very beginning."
{16} lv. 9.
{17} 1 Cor. xv. 51.
{18} Col. i. 25.
{19} Herrmann, p. 57.
{20} Ethik, p. 95 etc.
{21} The picture of Christ contained in the Gospel would not make so powerful an impression upon us as it does if all the miracles and supernatural truths were eliminated. If Christ's miracles are not divine actions, but natural processes, we could not successfully maintain even His morality from the facts of His life as recorded in the Gospels.
{22} Theolog. Jahresbericht, 1905, p. 960, etc.
{23} Christl. Welt., 1904, p. 267.
{24} 1 Cor. ii. 7, etc.
{25} Eph. i. 3, etc.
{26} Eph. i. 15, etc.
{27} Heb. vi. 4.
{28} Rom. viii. 9; Gal. iii. 26, vi. 15.
{29} Eph. iii. 20.
{30} Rom. viii. 26.
{31} 1 John iii. 9, 24, iv. 13.
{32} Cf. Radernacher, Die übernatürliche Lebensordnung nach der paulinischen und johanneischen Theologie, 1903.
{33} Neutestam. Theologie, II, 150.
{34} Op. cit., p. 302.
{35} Ibid., 52. Cf. J. Wendland, op. cit., p. 120. According to Lagarde (op. cit., p. 45) the primitive Christian idea of justification was not Luther's "faith," but the "new creation."
{36} Mausbach, Die Ethik des hl. Augustinus, p. 126, etc.
{37} S. c. Gentil., III, 150 (Thomas Texte, § 48).
{38} Gal. V. 25.
{39} Cf. supra, p. 154.
{40} In the liturgy of the Church the connexion between grace and morality is again and again clearly expressed; for instance, it is suggested with inimitable brevity in the prayers: "ut tuae redemptionis effectum et mysteriis capiamus et moribus" (Postcommunio at the ordination of priests); "Ut sacramentum vivendo teneant, quod fide perceperunt" (Collect for Tuesday in Easter week).
{41} Hase, op. cit., p. 347.
{42} Harnack, Dogmengesch., III, 881, etc.
{43} Schell, Apologie, 2d ed., I, 448.
{44} S. theol., I, II, q. 108, a. 2 ad 1; de vent., q. 14, a. 10 ad 3.
{45} Thom., S. theol., II, II, q. 4, a. 4, ad 3.
{46} St. Bernard, De gratia et lib. arb., c. 14: Non partim gratia, partim liberum arbitrium, sed totum singula opere individuo peragunt. Totum quidem hoc et totum illa; sed, Ut totum in illo, sic totum ex illa. A. Weiss, op. cit., 111,538: "God's activity is indeed the beginning of and stimulus to our own; it is the strength in which we do everything, the completion and perfection of our work, but it is not a substitute for our exertions. God acts before us, otherwise we should be unable to be active at all. God acts in us, by inspiring our weakness and indolence with the desire and resolution to act. God acts with us, for through him alone can we translate our wishes and powers into action. But God does not act instead of us." Ibid., p. 1079: "The whole supernatural life, if it is to continue undisturbed and reach its goal, must be a constant alternation, or rather an unbroken cooperation of grace and nature."
{47} Thom. in III sent. dist. 23, q. 3, a. 2 ad 1. The angelic doctor remarks in this passage that infused virtue, i.e., virtue imparted by grace, resembles an innate rather than an acquired habitus, and he goes on to say: Naturalis autem habitus sicut intellectus principiorum indiget, ut cognitio determinetur per sensum, quod acquisitus non indiget, quia, dum acquiritur per actum, determinationem acquirit. Et similiter oportet, quod fidei habitus determinationem recipiat ex parte nostra (by means of instruction in the faith and theological knowledge, as he goes on to say). There is a very clear and definite statement in Qu. disp. de virt. card., q. un. a. 2 ad 2: "Just as the use of knowledge is hindered by sleepiness or drunkenness, that is to say, by disturbances in the sensitive part of the soul, so is the action of the supernatural virtue, imparted with sanctifying grace, impeded by the evil inclinations or similar perverse dispositions remaining as a result of previous sins." The fundamental idea of the comparison -- it is not intended to be anything more -- is expressed by St. Thomas again in De virt. in com. a. 10 ad 1 and ad 17. The conclusion is worded thus: "Just as the lower animal forces do not suffice, at the conception of a human being, to produce a human soul; so all our natural knowledge and morality is not able to produce the life of grace, although in both cases, according to the order established by God, there is an intimate relation between the higher and the lower factors" (In I. sent. dist. 14, q. 3. De virt. in com. q. 1, a. 10). This analogy can he applied most advantageously in support of the doctrine regarding the life of grace.
{48} Cf. also note 1, de vent. q. 10, a. 10: Certitudinaliter nullus potest scire se caritatem habere, nisi ei divinitus reveletur.
{49} Ps. I, 3, 4.
{50} Harnack in his "Mission und Ausbreitung des Christentums" and Heitmüller and Wrede in their studies of St. Paul.
{51} Apologia pro vita sua, 1895, p. 247, etc. Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der bI. Vernunft., IV, 2, § 4.
{52} Eucken, Der Kampf um einen geist. Lebensinhalt, 1907, pp. 254, 259: Even Jodl (Gesch. der Ethik, I, 75) sees in the idea of grace the expression of an important ethical fact, viz., the sense "that between the moral ideal and the self-judgment inevitably resulting from it, there is an unknown something which does not proceed from man, or at least not from his consciousness, and which cannot destroy his moral judgment; but the ultimate decision regarding the moral worth or worthlessness of a man rests with a power, mysterious indeed, whatever name may be given to it, and the operation of which is independent of all human influence."
{53} Hilty, Schlaflose Nächte, 1903, p. 186: "From another point of view, in considering the objective varieties and forms of the supernatural, J. Pohle arrives at a similar conclusion: "While detail is a matter of faith, the whole by its magnitude and harmony affects the reason with convincing force" (Natur und Uebernatur, in Religion, Christentum, Kirche I, 327, etc.
{54} Cf. e.g., K. Jentsch, Christentum und Kirche, p. 560, etc.