St. Thomas Aquinas and Me

Over on X (Twitter) there is a feature called "grok" that when asked assesses you based on your posts (tweets). I had earlier asked which saint I am most like (St. Augustine) and which writer I am most like (C. S. Lewis).

The other day I asked: "Which philosopher am I most like?"

 

The response: Given your interests and the themes in your posts, you seem most aligned with the philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas was a medieval Catholic philosopher and theologian known for his efforts to synthesize Christian theology with the philosophy of Aristotle. His work often deals with ethics, morality, and the nature of God, which resonates with your expressions of faith and moral concerns. Aquinas's emphasis on natural law and the moral implications of human actions could be seen as parallel to your focus on life issues and the integration of faith into daily life. 

Wow. What an honor.

To my shame, I have read very little of St. Thomas Aquinas's writings - except for his proofs for God. But I have read St. Thomas Aquinas by G. K. Chesterton and The Quiet Light by Louis de Wohl. 

So when I stopped by the library to return a book yesterday - the Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas - I found Thomas Aquinas: A Portrait by Denys Turner.  I started reading it, and am enjoying it.

I suspect I have a book or two containing the writings of St. Thomas in storage upstairs. I'll dig them out at some point. 

Meanwhile, here is a clerihew I wrote abut him a few years back:

St. Thomas Aquinas was noted for his reticence and shyness. But crack open a bottle and he’d expound at length on Aristotle.

Pax et bonum

Natural Law Essay

A fine essay from Law and Liberty published June 14, 20230 


What Natural Law Can and Can't Do

By Thomas D. Howes

Sometimes you see religious conservatives online argue for a moral position by simply stating that “the natural law says x.” This happened recently when Michael Knowles posted a video in which he argued, that, unlike drag shows, visiting a Hooters bar is morally legitimate because it does not “contradict the natural law.” One gets the idea that “natural law,” like appeals to “the common good,” just saves everyone the trouble of making an argument.

The discourse about it is usually so poor it makes it hard for outsiders to take it seriously. But that is not how natural law theory works. There is a great deal of disagreement and debate among advocates of natural law theory. Various standpoints carry the banner of natural law, including various theories that claim to represent natural law theory’s greatest thinker, Thomas Aquinas. But there is also something common that unites them. I would venture to say that most people embrace that common element of natural law theory whether they realize it or not. But it does not save its advocates from the work of defending their positions with arguments. And so it is with a more filled-out account of natural law, like that of Thomas Aquinas. Rather than an end to all moral arguments, such accounts provide tools to make moral arguments possible.

In perhaps its most basic sense, to invoke natural law is to affirm moral objectivity and to acknowledge a standard that transcends positive or civil law. According to Thomas Aquinas, some of natural law’s requirements are more obvious than others. Some are recognized by most societies, such as prohibitions against murder, assault, stealing, fraud, and lying—though interpretations of the specific scope and demands of these norms might differ among peoples. There is some overlap between these basic norms of natural law and what is called the law of nations, or ius gentium: the positive law common to all or most places, insofar as the rationale for such laws follows closely from these basic moral norms.

Just as some demands of natural law are more obvious than others, some may be more obvious to certain cultures than they are to others (e.g., norms against polygyny or against cousin marriage were less obvious in many cultures). In some cases, genuine moral norms may only be grasped by the wise and, it is hoped, taught by them to the rest of the community. Discussing natural law in this way will not settle many debates about its content but, again, is to affirm the existence of a moral law graspable by human reason and one which sets limits on the legitimacy of positive or civil law. Such a claim has value, and most people affirm it even if they do not speak explicitly of “natural law.” It is also a foundational presupposition of modern constitutional democracy, with its attention to abuses of sovereignty, whether from a despot or a mob, even when such abuses are consistent with current law.

Thomas Aquinas’s doctrine of natural law is at the same time a doctrine of practical reason and its principles. As such, it provides a framework for moral argument and teaching, not readymade answers to settle arguments before they start. For Aquinas, practical reason is reason applied to action—reasoning about what to do rather than what is or why. Practical reason, moreover, has its own principles—goods that we are inclined by nature to grasp in ordinary experience as we learn our native language and progress to an age of reason. These first principles of practical reason might include survival, life, health, knowledge, skillful activity, friendship, virtue, and religion. Goods like these serve as a horizon of value in which we reason about what to do here and now. Following earlier medieval thinkers, Aquinas calls the intellectual habit through which these and additional principles of practical reason are grasped “synderesis,” which other times he simply calls natural (practical) reason.

Between these most basic principles of practical reason and moral norms like those mentioned above (e.g., norms against stealing, murder, etc.) stand the common precepts of natural law, the most general normative principles grasped by natural reason—e.g., do no harm, love your neighbor as yourself, the golden rule. Some, like Thomas de Vio (Cajetan), or more recently Martin Rhonheimer, include as principles of natural reason the basic ends of the cardinal virtues—to give to each his/her own (justice), to train our passions and affections according to reason (temperance), to develop strength to overcome obstacles to the good (fortitude)—seeing the other principles, e.g., the golden rule, as more obvious implications of these. New Natural Law theorists like John Finnis have unique terminology but cover this with talk of basic requirements of practical reasonableness, which also includes what might be called maxims of prudence (e.g., the demand for commitment in projects).

Thus, according to this kind of interpretation of Thomas Aquinas, we are naturally inclined to grasp certain goods as the ends of our inclinations, along with basic moral principles that we bring to our daily reasoning about what to do. And with authentic moral experience and instruction, we can come to understand these principles and their implications for conduct further. It is easy to see how we are thus inclined to recognize certain obvious moral norms, such as those against murder, assault, etc. For instance, we recognize survival—or more abstractly, life—as a good, and we recognize that this or that person is just as deserving of this good as we are (the golden rule); we thus recognize it is wrong to take that life from them. Note that this basic moral insight is shared by all cultures.

But if there is disagreement about harder cases—euthanasia, for instance—Aquinas’s natural law theory also provides a framework for making moral arguments about them. Most of the disputes about natural law are not really about its general validity—though, for instance, opponents of moral realism deny it—but about the conclusions natural lawyers draw from it, or about what constitutes genuine moral principles. For example, the neo-scholastic “perverted faculty” argument, arguing against behavior based on the natural purpose of bodily organs, implies an especially contentious principle. But that principle is hardly embraced by all natural lawyers.

Therefore, one does natural law theory a disservice by pretending that disputed questions can be settled by simply invoking natural law. In its most general sense, natural law is an affirmation that morality is objective, as well as a claim that truths about it can be recognized and defended. If you want to persuade someone who disagrees, make an argument. Now it may be that some moral norms require additional good-faith moral experience or even practical wisdom to grasp, and thus even good arguments for a genuine moral norm may not convince everyone. But the goal of such arguments is to identify true moral norms and explain them in terms of their principles. If they are good explanations, they will at least give more credibility to the norm even if they do not convince everyone. When they do not convince, supplementary arguments might help, such as appeals to empirical research about the effects of the disputed behavior.

Finally, natural law is complementary to virtue ethics. The general norms that natural law theory allows us to identify and make explicit may rule out certain options, but they do not identify with exact precision what a reasonable course of action is in this or that context. Prudence is still necessary, and prudence requires the other virtues. At the same time, natural law theory provides an account of practical principles that are normative in the identification and pursuit of authentic virtue. Therefore, it provides general moral principles and norms that are eschewed by many contemporary accounts of virtue ethics.

There are many misconceptions about natural law theory, even by purported advocates of it. It may be unpopular in name, but it is popular in spirit, and everyone would benefit from engaging with its best proponents. Moreover, despite what some purported advocates imply online, it does not rid us of the burden of making moral arguments. In its best forms, it is a perennial doctrine that survives the many passing fads of academic moral philosophy, and it is not going anywhere. Therefore, it is in the best interest of those serious about moral philosophy to at least understand it for what it is—as a framework to begin a discussion, not a blunt instrument used to end one.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thomas D. Howes is managing editor of the The Vital Center, a research fellow at the Austrian Institute, and a Lecturer at Princeton University. He has completed a book manuscript called Natural Law & Constitutional Democracy, which is a defense of modern constitutional democracy informed by the natural law tradition.
Pax et bonum

Church Fathers

I keep seeing people saying that we should read the Church Fathers - and that reading the Church Fathers turned many a Protestant into a Catholic.

I've read some of the works of the Church Fathers, but to be honest, I've often been confused about who is included among the Fathers.

In his book The Father Know Best, Jimmy Akin lists some 100 of them! 

I did find a list on one site listing the early Doctors of the Church who were Church Fathers:

 

St. Ambrose (340–397), 

St. Jerome (347–420), 

St. Augustine (354–430)  

Pope Saint Gregory the Great (540–604)
St. Basil the Great (329–379)

St. Athanasius (296–373)

St. Gregory of Nazianzus (329–389)

St. John Chrysostom (347–407)

I've also seen others named as significant Fathers:

St. Ignatius of Antioch 

St. Polycarp of Smryna

St. Irenaeus of Lyons

St. Justin Martyr 

Pope St. Clement I

There are more. 

As I said, I've read the works of some of them - St. Augustine, St. Ignatius, and St. Polycarp.

I have to read the works of some of the others. And Akins's book.

That Longfellow

I saw a movie about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and his son during the Civil War (I Heard the Bells), and I grew curious about him. I'd read a few of his poems, but not many. I had even covered a couple of them with my students. 

So I read a brief online bio of him, then checked at the local library for a longer biography and a collection of his poems. Alas, no biography, but I did find one small collection: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Selected Poems. 

I just finished reading it. Interestingly, the poem on which the movie based,  "Christmas Bells," was not in the collection. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the book and many of the poems. As is typical of me, I preferred the shorter poems in the collection. One that struck me was 

Mezzo Cammin

Half of my life is gone, and I have let
The years slip from me and have not fulfilled
The aspiration of my youth, to build
Some tower of song with lofty parapet.
Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret
Of restless passions that would not be stilled,
But sorrow, and a care that almost killed,
Kept me from what I may accomplish yet;
Though, half-way up the hill, I see the Past
Lying beneath me with its sounds and sights,—
A city in the twilight dim and vast,
With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights,—
And hear above me on the autumnal blast
The cataract of Death far thundering from the heights.

It resonated with me because I too have looked at my life and what I have done - and failed to do. But he wrote this when he was just 35! He lived to be 75, and wrote quite a bit more. Me, well, I'm still trying as I approach 70.

As for "Christmas Bells", I found it online.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

I looked in my book collection upstairs and found one of his, Tales of a Wayside Inn. I'll read some of the poems in it - though not necessarily all. 

Just some of the shorter ones!  

Pax et bonum

Transubstantiation and Marriage.

At Men's Group today we were talking about Transubstantiation after watching a part of Bishop Barron's Catholicism.

When the priest says the words, the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ, although still having the appearance of bread and wine. Bishop Barron came up with a couple of analogies to help explain it, but during the discussion after viewing I came up with one of my own.

When I was single, I dated different women. My appearance remained the same. I was just a guy with a particular physical appearance that remained unchanged. (Well, I did comb my hair more.)  Then I met my future wife. I fell in love, and we married. When we married, the priest said the words. I was changed in spirit, yet I still looked the same. Indeed, when I went back to work, my co-workers saw the same person. Yet inside I was different.  

Pax et bonum

I Grok

On X (Twitter) there is a feature called "Grok." You can ask it questions about yourself and it will answer based on your recent tweets and responses.

I asked two questions:

Which Saint am I most like?
Which writer am I most like?

The responses:

Based on your posts, Lee, you might find a kinship with Saint Augustine of Hippo. Augustine was known for his profound personal transformation from a life of indulgence to one of deep Christian faith, reflection, and intellectual pursuit. His writings, particularly "Confessions," delve into the human struggle with sin, the search for truth, and the importance of prayer and inner conversion, which resonates with your emphasis on prayer, moral integrity, and challenging societal norms.

Like you, Augustine was not afraid to engage in discourse, critique falsehoods, and seek a deeper understanding of divine truths, often through his own personal experiences and reflections. His life and works reflect a journey from skepticism to faith, a theme that might parallel your posts about confronting ignorance, advocating for truth, and the personal practice of faith.

***

Based on the themes and tone of your recent posts on X, Lee, you seem to resonate most with C.S. Lewis. Lewis was known for his deep Christian faith, which heavily influenced his writing, similar to how your posts reflect a strong emphasis on faith, prayer, and moral considerations. His works often blend elements of fantasy with profound philosophical and theological questions, akin to your posts that challenge or reflect on contemporary issues through a spiritual lens. 

Lewis's ability to critique societal norms and explore the nature of good versus evil in his writings, like in "The Chronicles of Narnia" or "The Screwtape Letters," mirrors your engagement with topics that touch on morality, truth, and the human condition.

Wow. What responses. What an honor. I have always admired St. Augustine, and Lewis is one of my favorite writers. 

Good role models for my spiritual and literary lives!

Pax et bonum

Chesterton's Novels

During his lifetime G. K. Chesterton published six novels: The Napoleon of Notting Hill, The Man Who Was Thursday, The Ball and the Cross, Manalive, The Flying Inn, and The Return of Don Quixote. Years later, long after Chesterton left this world, the manuscript of an unpublished novel written when he was just 19 was discovered: Basil Howe: A Story Young Love. 

Of the published novels I have read the first five. I do have a copy of The Return of Don Quixote, and will likely give it a read at some point. 

As for the previously unpublished novel, first, the name was just one given to it after it was discovered. We don't know what Chesterton would have given it if he had chosen to try to publish it. It is also hard to find, so there's a good chance I never will get a chance to read it. 

Of the novels I have read, I liked Napoleon the best, despite the fact that most critics and readers  consider Thursday his best novel. I rank it my second favorite. Ironically on the Chesterton blog to which I contribute I am "Thursday."

My Ranking:

The Napoleon of Notting Hill, 

The Man Who Was Thursday

Manalive

The Ball and the Cross

The Flying Inn,

I've also read all the Father Brown stories, but there are a number of his short story collections to read. Indeed, my reading list for this year includes The Poet and the Lunatics. 

Given how much Chesterton wrote, I could spend the rest of my life reading just his published essays, poems, plays, and fiction, and probably not get to them all.

 

Pax et bonum

Murder in the Lincoln White House by C. M. Gleason

I decided to read some Civil War-era mysteries because of my interest in that conflict and that time period, because I like mysteries, and because I have an idea in the back of my mind about a mystery story of my own set in that period and I wanted to see how other writers handled it. Combining research and pleasure.

I'd seen the Civil War mystery series of C. M. Gleason praised on some mystery lists, so I got a couple of them from the library. Murder in the Lincoln White House is the first in the series, and the one I read first.

Overall assessment: Good period mystery. There are some interesting characters, the writing is competent, the plot works, the historical details were obviously researched. Worth reading, and enough to inspire me to read more in her series.

It's set at the time of Lincoln's Inauguration in 1861, with the Civil War about to break out. The novel deals with those tensions, and they play into the murder mystery, though they are not the only reason for the killer's action.

A couple of quibbles, though.

As I was reading, I noted:

The protagonist, ruggedly handsome and moral and upright, has a disability.

The protagonist was also an orphan and a frontiersman.

He studied tracking and hunting techniques under a wise Native American mentor.

He enlists the aide of a Black doctor who is skilled at autopsies. (In 1861?)

He encounters a female journalist who disguises herself as a man and who becomes another ally and potential romantic interest. (Yes, I know there are stories of women disguising themselves to be, for example, soldiers.)

He recruits an Irish immigrant boy as a messenger and spy.

He meets up with an 1861 Smithsonian version of the Lone Gunmen to help in his investigation.

He meets a beautiful, willful Southern Belle who provides insights, and serves as a possible romantic rival for the journalist.

I kept wondering what box was going to get checked next.

Our protagonist keeps trying to figure out the real identity of the journalist. But at one point the protagonist seems to know her name - chapters before he actually discovers it. Hmmm. Did an editor miss that one?

One other observation - though it is not a quibble.

I had no idea who C. M. Gleason was before I started reading. But as I read, I began getting the feeling Gleason has to be a woman given some of the character descriptions, the way the protagonist thinks, and certain details about fashion and setting. That the protagonist was tall, well-built, ruggedly handsome, with a cleft chin ... well.

When I finished, I looked up Gleason. Sure enough, a woman.

Maybe I should be a detective!

Pax et bonum

Sayers Goal Met!

I just finished Have His Carcase by Dorothy Sayers. I have now read all of her Lord Peter Wimsey mystery novels. My goal for this year was to read the last two that I had not yet read, this one, and The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club.

To be honest, it was not my favorite of her books. I have found the romance ones involving Wimsey and Harriet Vane like this one among the least satisfying. I like the focus being on just Wimsey, which was one of the strengths of the Unpleasantness. Moreover, this one involves a cipher, and pages of solving it. I've never been a fan of ciphers. Finally, I found the ending unsatisfying and a little too contrived. 

Whatever, I have now met one of my reading goals.

More mysteries await!

Pax et bonum

The Catholic Church Helps the World

Pax et bonum

Reading Reflection: Tears in Rain

When I retired midway through 2020 one of my plans was to read books/works I had always wanted to read, or reread books/works that were particularly important or that I had not read in years (sometimes decades!). Those works included not only novels, but plays, collections (poetry, essays, stories), encyclicals, histories, biographies, and so on. There are literary and spiritual classics, mysteries, and some contemporary works. 

I keep a count for each year. 

2020 - 55 

2021 - 85

2022 - 66

2023 - 69

2024 - 72

There were also some mini goals, focusing on works I had not yet read by authors I liked. So in the past five years I have finished all of Shakespeare's plays, the poetry of Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost, the Navajo mysteries of Tony Hillerman, the Divine Comedy, and the Father Brown mysteries of G. K. Chesterton.

I did not always finish works I set out to read. I tried to read Don Quixote, but gave up 100 pages in. I tried to read all the poetry of Walt Whitman, but got tired of his style.

I'm getting to the point where I'm running out of good works to read! I like classic mysteries, for example, but contemporary ones are often not to my taste.

And as the years advance and mortality looms I have increasingly begun to think that when I go all this will be lost. I think of that scene in Blade Runner as Roy Batty is "dying":

"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die."

It's not time for me to die, yet. At least I think it's not!

I still have some goals to meet. I want to read all the Dickens novels have not yet read, for example. Still a few to go. And I'll soon be done with all the Lord Peter Wimsey mystery novels. I've set goals for this year.

And even if all I've read will be "lost" the memories of me will live on, and those works will have shaped who I am, the impressions I have left with people, and even the poems, plays and stories I've written. Hopefully after I'm gone some of my creations will still be read, and might inspire at least a smile or two.

So ... Onward!

Pax et bonum

Some Nature Pictures

Pax et bonum

A Pleasant Unpleasantness

One of my reading goals for this year is to read the two Dorothy Sayers Lord Peter Wimsey novels that I had not yet read.

I started The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club just before New Year's Day, but I finished it on New Year's Day, so it becomes the first book of 2025, and gets me closer to my goal. 

I really enjoyed this one. More of Wimsey comes through, and the book has none of the Harriet Vane romance I've found tiresome in some of the other Wimsey books.

Good mystery. Interesting characters.

One quibble, though. Something I've noted in British mysteries is the acceptance of suicide as an "honorable" way out for for guilty parties facing trial for murder. I don't like that. 

Other than that, I only have praise for this book.

One more Wimsey to go! 

Pax et bonum

Sun

Pax et bonum

Moon

Pax et bonum

Happy Hogmanay!

Looks like Grandpa Broon!

Pax et bonum

Brother Rat ( an update)

My wife is for the birds.

Literally.

She's a member of Audubon.

Our backyard has several feeders and birdhouses. We have to make regular runs to buy 40-pound bags of seeds.

But along with the birds come some other critters.

Squirrels. (For whom I have a certain fondness, so we also feed them!)

Chipmunks. (Not singing, though.)

A woodchuck. A large fellow that makes my dog nervous.

And ...

A couple of summers ago, at least one rat.

He had apparently taken up residence under the garage, and was spotted making runs out to seed debris beneath the largest feeder.

My wife referred to him as Rattus rattus. But since he was a brown rat, he was technically Rattus norvegicus. Not that it mattered.

He was a rat.

The other guests were welcome. But Brother Rat, while still one of God's creatures, was an uninvited guest.

Besides, he and/or his brothers and sisters got into some books I had stored in the garage.

Now I know Francis was not a big fan of books, but to chew them that way ....

Options:

Poison.

A deadly rat trap.

A capture alive trap.

I opted for the latter.

First day, a chipmunk. I let him go in the yard.

Second day, Rattus norvegicus was in there.

He did not look happy.

After morning Mass, I took him to a nearby park where there's a picnic area and a large often-full dumpster. Mmmmm.

I released the lock on the trap. He leaped out in mid air, hit the grass running, and was gone.

I didn't even get a chance to preach to him!

After that, we watched to see is any of his buddies show up under the bird feeder before resetting the trap.

As for Brother Rat, given the life span of rats, he's probably no longer with us. But I hope his last days were happy and full of good things to eat.

Just as long as he didn't spend them in our yard.

Pax et bonum

Jubliee Year Prayer

2025 is a Jubilee Year. The following is a Jubilee Year Prayer from Pope Francis:

Father in heaven,

may the faith you have given us

in your son, Jesus Christ, our brother,

and the flame of charity enkindled

in our hearts by the Holy Spirit,

reawaken in us the blessed hope

for the coming of your Kingdom.

May your grace transform us

into tireless cultivators of the seeds of the Gospel.

May those seeds transform from within

both humanity and the whole cosmos

in the sure expectation

of a new heaven and a new earth,

when, with the powers of Evil vanquished,

your glory will shine eternally.

May the grace of the Jubilee

reawaken in us, Pilgrims of Hope,

a yearning for the treasures of heaven.

May that same grace spread

the joy and peace of our Redeemer

throughout the earth.

To you our God, eternally blessed,

be glory and praise for ever.

Amen

Pax et bonum