a) For the faithful, being retains some fundamental aporia relative to our natural understanding; but ultimately, insofar as God is all-knowing, etc., there is no question which cannot be answered, no problem beyond understanding. So what I mean by fundamentally aporetic is that the philosopher sees wisdom precisely is seeing that there are no answers but rather more questions about certain things, usually the highest things.

b) Would you say more about how you see doubt and wonder at odds? I am not inclined to agree, not because I see any affinity between them, but because I cannot imagine a basis on which they may be considered contraries. Are you saying that they are conflicting performances or dispositions such that a man may not both wonder and be in doubt at the same time? That seems to call for more understanding of doubt.

c) (Your division of the types of questioning reminds me of the opening of Book II of Aristotle’s Posterior Analytics.) It must be a question available to the philosopher whether or not there are first principles, but it is not the only question. I think the more interesting questions and the ones that get more traction are the other ones your mentioned. The key, though, is that the first question is available to the philosopher, and is available to him as a serious question.

Your mention of vulgarity reminds me that this question of philosophy and revelation cannot be extricated from questions of the city.

Thanks for the feedback!

Plato, lacking faith, points to its necessity if one is ever to have an account of the whole – he acknowledge we cannot attain wisdom by our own reason. While he may prove that philosophy as a way of life is appropriate in man’s reason-limited state, Plato does not ever suggest that given unforeseen access to wisdom and a subsequent life lacking the pursuit of that wisdom—that such a life would have lost something of value. In Book VI of Plato’s Republic, Glaucon presses Socrates to give an account of the “supreme principle of the good” . Socrates acknowledges that such an account of the “highest knowledge” is indeed desirable—it would constitute the achievement and end of the quest for knowledge of the whole of reality which Socrates, as a philosopher, has made his way of life. Socrates, however, quells Glaucon’s optimism, arguing that the soul of man pursues this principle “having a presentiment that there is such an end, and yet hesitating because neither knowing the nature nor having the same assurance of this as of other things.” In other words, Socrates knows that he cannot attain through his reason an account of the totality of being—he knows “he does not know”. Man’s reason can have a presentiment that wisdom exists, can recognize reason’s limitation in achieving this wisdom on its own, and can recognize that the best life given this limitation is the pursuit, nonetheless, of wisdom. But: Socrates nevertheless affirms that wisdom is desirable, and that the philosophical way of life is good only by way of a lack in man; it seems only logical that a life ordered to knowledge of the wisdom unattainable by man’s natural light would, like that wisdom itself, also be desirable.

A look at what Aquinas has to say about faith may clarify precisely why nothing is lost by the man of faith. Aquinas addresses in his Expositio superlibrum Boethii de trinitate the scope and nature of the human intellect—what it can know. He considers the manner in which the natural mind can ascend from effects to cause to acquire an analogical knowledge of God. But the human mind can know that it cannot attain propter quid knowledge of the First Cause. The principles of the divine science are not given by natural reason: this type of knowledge requires faith. Theology is wisdom: when first principles are believed in faith they give wisdom—an account of the whole which philosophy cannot attain. Thus, like Socrates, Aquinas recognizes the limitations of man’s reasons—opening the way for a desirable infused gift that enables a higher knowledge, and thus a higher way of life.

Aquinas considers in question one of the Exposition the capabilities and limitations of the human mind. For Aquinas, the human mind can reach a certain knowledge of God through its own ability. However, Aquinas argues that this knowledge is limited to knowing that God exists: the human mind cannot reach any knowledge of God’s essence—the whatness of God. This is due to the human mind’s way of knowing: the mind can only abstract the whatness of sensible things. Through its own light, reason can know the natures of things encountered in the sensible realm, but such knowledge is limited to these sense-perceptible realities. Thus, the mind cannot attain knowledge of the essence of God, who is not sense-perceptible.

Nevertheless, Aquinas argues there can be a “science”—an absolute knowledge—of divine realities. This science of divine realities is not based on knowledge given to the mind from the senses, but is rather based on faith—“the starting point of this science” (2, 2, reply to obj. 7). Revelation, for Aquinas, does not give us the essence of God: divine revelation comes to us adapted to our mind’s way of knowing. We cannot apprehend the divine realities in themselves, but “there arises here and now in us a certain sharing in, and a likeness to, the divine knowledge, to the extent that through the faith implanted in us we firmly grasp the primary Truth itself for its own sake” (6, 3, response). Thus, faith is not an intellectual grasp of the divine essence, yet it is the basis for a certain science of the divine reality.

Aquinas deals with faith in question three. He argues that faith is necessary for the human race on several levels. Faith is present on a human level when persons trust one another and make promises: faith is in this way “necessary in human society”—each human being dependent on others for what is “unknown to himself” (3, 1, response). Further, in every science man must have faith in the science’s principles, which ultimately are derived from the highest science. These highest realities are, although most necessary, least apparent to us and arrived at last in the human way of knowing. Humans have to begin with what is less knowable and posterior by nature to arrive at what is more knowable and prior by nature. However, “what we first know is known on the strength of what we eventually come to know; so from the very beginning we must have some knowledge of those things which are more knowable in themselves, and this is possible only by faith” (3, 1, response). Thus, for Aquinas the highest science cannot be reached without faith in its principles at the outset—principles which later will be demonstrable. From this it follows that faith is necessary in all sciences, including the divine science.

While faith is thus necessary in all sciences, it absolutely crucial for the divine science. In faith, man’s intellect (which as we have seen cannot begin with the most knowable) goes beyond the height of human accessible divine knowledge—it attains those “aspects of the divinity that human reason is utterly incapable of knowing fully” (2, 1, response). As we saw in the first question, the human mind cannot attain any knowledge of God’s essence from the sense-data it encounters; faith enables man to know what is beyond the limits of reason alone.

Faith, for Aquinas, is not blind or irrational. Aquinas compares faith to trusting another human person: a man believes another until he has reason to mistrust him because it is necessary to believe other men (as we have seen). In faith, man knows divine realities in a similar way: “the articles of faith, which are the principles of this science…are believed on the word of him who reveals them to us through his witness, in much the same way as a physician accepts the testimony of a scientist” (2,3, reply to obj. 5). Divine faith thus has as its object a set of revealed principles—accepted because man trusts the authority. Faith is the assent one gives to the articles of revelation—not an intellectual grasp, but an act of the will. Aquinas argues that like science and understanding, faith has “unerring and firm assent” as do science and understanding, but it “has to do with matters that are not clear to the mind”, and is in this way like opinion—something that seems probable. To assent man must have an adequate force motivating the will to do so. For assent through natural powers of the intellect, self-evident principles and their conclusions are necessary. For assent in faith, the power of the natural intellect is not enough: as we have seen, the human mind cannot reach principles of the divine science. Faith is rather “a kind of light”—a new light supplementing the natural light which allows the will to assent.

Faith is, for Aquinas, a habit: a “disposition whereby that which is disposed is disposed well or ill…either in regard to itself or in regard to another” (ST, I-II, 49, 1, response). Faith is the habit that disposes the will to accept divine revelation: a disposition that inclines the will “well”, and thus is also a virtue. Faith, consequently, is the virtue that disposes the will well towards man’s end of knowing divine realities. It is imparted to man by God, and allows the mind to accept the articles of faith—an object of belief not known naturally by the mind. In this understanding of faith, then, it is clear we are given the ability to assent to divine realities: we possess a habit that we did not ourselves acquire. Faith is not forced on us because it is in accord both with our way of assenting and with our way of knowing. Aquinas argues: “Faith comes from God in two ways: by way of an interior light that leads to assent, and by way of the realities that are proposed from without and that had as their source divine revelation” (3, 1, reply to obj. 4). One has to trust the source in order to follow the disposition to believe in the revealed objects: “just as the knowledge of principles is taken from the senses, and yet the light by which principles are known is inborn, so ‘faith comes from hearing,’ and nevertheless the habit of faith is infused.” Thus, Aquinas reaches the crucial conclusion regarding faith and reason: the articles of faith do not contradict reason, but they are believed because of a higher motive force since they are not rationally demonstrable.

Thus, faith is not an irrational leap for Aquinas; it is rather a second way of knowing available to human beings (by the gift of God). Faith is from the very same source as the first way of knowing—the natural light and natural reason. Aquinas describes the relationship of faith and reason: “The gifts of grace are added to nature in such a way that they do not destroy it, but rather perfect it. So too the light of faith, which is imparted to us as a gift, does not do away with the light of natural reason given to us by God” (2, 3, response). Further, what is divinely taught to us by faith cannot be contrary to what we are endowed with by nature: faith is in no way contrary to reason. Reason has both preparatory and subsequent roles in relation to faith: a threefold relation. Reason first can demonstrate the preambles of faith which are necessary to know in order to have faith. For faith in revelation about God, one must first believe that God exists and is one—preambles knowable by unaided reason. Second, reason can help illuminate the content of faith with analogies—making principles of faith more intelligible to the human mind. Finally, reason can refute assertion contrary to faith—showing their falsity or lack of necessity.

We can conclude that for Aquinas, both faith and reason are necessary for man to know God. The contents of philosophy—what reason knows by its own light—can not possibly be contrary to the contents of faith, but rather fall short of them. Aquinas thus shows that faith enables man to know God and attain the wisdom that reason knows it cannot know, due to its sense-bound character. Reason knows it cannot reach the end it desires, and knows it needs another light. It recognizes divine revelation is not contrary to what is known by the natural light. Finally, the light or habit of faith disposes man to believe that divine revelation, which is above his natural mind’s capability to know. This virtue of faith is the cause and source of religion—the worship of the God known by faith. Thus, the faith which gives a knowledge which philosophy cannot attain, also gives a way of life beyond that of the philosopher (the one who seeks wisdom): this way of life is precisely the Christian religion in which man gives to God what is owing to him. Such a way life, motivated by the wisdom that reason knows reason alone cannot attain, can thus be recognized by reason as higher than the life of the philosopher.

Please tell me what you think. I look forward to your thoughts!

Next blog entry, attach some more of your wonderful art, k?

2. “Aggressive peer-to-peer marketing” does sound trite, especially from a school that prides itself on making independent thinkers, i.e. people who are not swayed by aggressive peer-to-peer marketing.

3 & 9. Numbers are now had. I suppose that is embarrassing. Also embarrassing is some commentators inability to recognize a simple rhetorical flourish.

4, 5, 8, & 10. You are right to point to the economic woes and social and vocational circumstances of many UD alumni. The response that one could simply donate $1 is true, I suppose. On the other hand, there are a great many organizations and individuals asking for donations. When you are strapped for cash, it is not unwise to be discreet about where you choose to donate.
On a related note, I feel pretty stupid donate $1, but many will say that I ought to donate just to raise the percentage of donating alumni. After all, they say, the money bomb is really to increase the percentage of donating alumni. On the other hand, if they simply wanted to increase donating alumni, a money bomb to raise $100K is counter-intuitive. Would you not have, instead, a “alumni donor percentage bomb,” perhaps with a goal of raising the alumni donor percentage to a whopping 15?

Furthermore, Chris Brown’s point that the university ought not to make donations a jocular point ought to be well noted. Making jokes about people’s possible financial situations when asking for money is rather insulting, as if the person did not have actual problems. Furthermore, it betrays an adolescent mode of garnering funds. One cannot just say, “Donate! It’s Great,” add a joke and expect it to happen, as if this were a TGIT banner hanging in Haggar.

Other #’s.
Money is fungible, as Chris pointed out. I don’t think anyone has questioned that point much. I’d like to push it further. Even if you donate to a particular department or area, does that actually matter? I recall several years ago a big bunch of UDers got rather angry about the idea of donating to Susan G. Komen, claiming that the Komen foundation supported Planned Parenthood, which was and is true, so far as I know. Those supporting the donation drive (volleyball, I think?) countered with the point that the donations would be ear-marked not to go to such organizations as Planned Parenthood. Oh joy. But the response is obvious. Supporting the Komen Foundation by donating to the “ear-marked against PP pile” does not mean you are going to support PP financially. No. It simply means that they will dump your money into one account and could then move “other” money to the PP stack. Money is fungible. So even if one were to donate to particular causes, I’m not sure if that makes a difference on the grand scale. They can still “funge” money to support bogus projects. So my point there is, don’t pretend that the simple ability to donate to this or that fund completely solves the problem.

Final point, though related. We seem to be in a vicious circle. UD is low on cash SO the board hires a new president who is supposed to raise money SO the president, generally unfamiliar with the ideals of the faculty and students, makes moves that many think are contradictory to their ideals SO alumni complain and stop donating SO the administration says that the lack of donations are the cause for the school’s need of another bogus project SO the administration pushes the bogus project through SO the bogus project costs more than it’s worth SO UD is low on cash…

That’s a vicious circle. There are two ways to solve it. Either, the alums donate a ton of money to an administration that they don’t particularly trust or the administration supports projects that the alums like in order to gain more trust and, therefore, donations. For my part, considering the consistency of the administration to fail to recognize where the issues lie, I don’t have much sympathy for their mendicancy. When the university administration is supporting more projects that correspond to the Catholic liberal arts tradition as it has been lived at UD generally, then I will donate, but until then, I guess my money will just go to the new St. Greg’s.

“If alumni don’t give gifts, who will?….Other alumni”
To say that other alumni will pick up your slack is a pathetic excuse for not contributing to our alma mater.

“20% of alumni contribute 80% of donations”
I’m not arguing that this is false. However, when comparing percentages, you also need to compare numbers. “Without numbers where numbers are due, adverbs are just fluff.” In the same way, without numbers where numbers are due, percentages are just fluff. So, why don’t we get rid of the fluff? Let’s say that 20% of our alumni was contributing $200,000/year — which equaled 80% of total donations taken in (I just made up $200,000 to give us a reference point; don’t take that number seriously). We could easily double, triple, or quadruple these contribution numbers if we could raise UD’s alumni giving participation rate from 14.65% to 40 or 50%.