Sebastian Morello’s book is one of the most interesting works on the metaphysical and theological thinking of St. Thomas Aquinas that I have yet read. I must confess that, when I first opened his book, I feared that I would find only an argument in favor of a Platonizing interpretation. But that was not the case. To my delight, the author reads and interprets St. Thomas naturally, exposing influences that come from a multitude of directions, including those of Plato and Aristotle. What Sebastian Morello proposes in his monograph is not a plea for a partisan reading other than the Aristotelian one, but the revelation of all the major sources of St. Thomas’s thought.
The first chapter, “Standing in the Tradition of Aristotle and Plato,” begins by presenting authors who believed that Thomistic thought is characterized by “a choice of Aristotle over Plato, with a following rejection of the rich Platonic tradition.” Without being intimidated by the weight of the names of Thomists favoring Aristotle, Sebastian Morello gradually begins to question their interpretations, proving their limitations. He demonstrates that even in the case of theses that seem explicitly Aristotelian, due to the terminology used by St. Thomas, we are, in fact, dealing with Neoplatonic metaphysics—especially that of Proclus:
Aquinas’s Neoplatonic metaphysics of participation if expressed in terms of these Aristotelian principles of act and potency, or more precisely, the limitation of act by potency, relating to each other as esse to essentia. This has misled scholars to believe the doctrine itself is Aristotle’s; however, Aristotle specifically rejects any notion of metaphysical participation in perfect transcendental forms.
Sometimes, confusions like the one Morello denounces result not so much from the inability of the erudite to understand what our author is conveying, but rather from the difficulty for someone engaged in such research to possess an equal knowledge of all the authors under discussion. Specialists in the thought of St. Thomas are not necessarily experts in the thinking of Plato and Aristotle. On the other hand, the thinking of the two Greek masters is not fundamentally disjointed. The differences that can be invoked are often nuances of the solutions they propose. And the issues addressed—such as the relationship between the one and the multiple, or the participation of the intelligible in the sensible—are, due to the inherent limits of our fallen condition, insoluble in discursive terms.
For this reason I have always preferred Socrates’ approach in Theaetetus, where different explanatory models proposed for a consistent theory of knowledge are gradually abandoned. Plato was well aware that any characterization of a particular interpretation in categorical and emphatic terms would actually hinder the flight of contemplation. Since these models have only a guiding value, being analogical, they must be understood as fundamentally limited. This is also the case, for example, with the famous problem of the constitution of things in “matter” and “form.” On this subject, Morello, with reference to St. Thomas, observes as follows:
When Aristotle … comes to apply his principles of act and potency to the composition of form and matter, he explains that form, or act, imposes limitations on the formless infinity of matter, and thus renders it intelligible. This is … a conception of these principles quite at odds with that advanced by Aquinas, who will partly reverse the matter-form relation so that the former also limits the latter. … this development of Aquinas is possible only within a participation ontology of the kind Aristotle explicitly rejected, i.e., of forms subsisting either perfectly and separately (as in the Platonic worldview), or in the mind of God (Aquina’s view).”
First, to engage in a discussion about “matter” without being able to explain what it is (and there is no complete or satisfactory explanation of it in either Aristotle or Aquinas) is a bit too enthusiastic. Second, to apply the qualification of “infinity” to any created entity is, to say the least, daring. St. Bonaventure warned his contemporaries against the danger of such a qualification. Third, it seems better to say that both the “form” and the “matter” limit each other. In any case, behind this discussion lies the inscrutable mystery of creation ex nihilo—a thing that must temper our metaphysical speculations. At this point, I will only mention en passant a great danger in both Aristotle and Aquinas: the fact that they seem to affirm, through their speculations, that discursive, speculative metaphysical knowledge is the true knowledge. Actually, true metaphysical knowledge is only for those to whom the Supreme Being itself, God, reveals the secrets of His creation as He pleases.
This critical note certainly does not prohibit speculation; it merely aims to underline its limits. Otherwise I can affirm, with Morello, that “in explicit opposition to Plato, Aristotle holds that every form is received whole, entire, and equally in every given individual substance of the species.” No one is able to produce a single phrase from Plato’s dialogues where he says something like what is implied in this quoted phrase. It is similar to the case of the supposed axiom of the co-eternity (against the ex nihilo Judeo-Christian dogma) of a given matter with the Demiurge (i.e., Plato’s God): there is no place where Plato says that the content of the “chora”—the archetypal matrix of creation—is co-eternal with God. Simply put, Plato says nothing about the original principles of creation, neither that they are co-eternal nor pre-existent, nor that they were created ex nihilo. It is exactly the same as in the case of the relationships between matter and form in any of the existing things/creatures: what Plato says is not conclusive. However, this does not diminish the value of the insights found in Aristotle and Aquinas, and in the conceptual distinction between “matter” and “form.”
The metaphor of the “two main streams of Western philosophy,” used by William Norris Clarke, to describe the contribution of Platonism and Aristotelianism, may be ideal if we conceive these two streams as belonging to the same cascade. Although the purpose of the entire chapter entitled “Aquinas and Participation Metaphysics” is to reveal both the Neoplatonic vein and the specificity of Thomistic doctrines, Morello’s approach demonstrates experience in addressing the same ideological background, which has experienced complementary developments and contributions. One key to understanding this method is provided in a short statement: “Every participant subject is a composition, and is limited, and is therefore distinguished from its source.”
Regardless of whether we analyze a finite being from the perspective of the essence-existence pair or the matter-form pair, the metaphysical structure is always the same in the context of the ontology of St. Thomas. But before asserting this, Morello provides a substantial excerpt from Boethius’ De hebdomadibus, plus three shorter definitions, which together provided the basis for Aquinas’s doctrine of metaphysical participation.
The stakes are very high. Such answers provide explanations regarding the relationship between the One and the multiple, and between God the Creator and His creatures. Aquinas’s teaching is, according to Morello, “a truly original synthesis.” Its uniqueness arises from the fact that it represents “the transposition executed by Aquinas of its entire structure ‘into the technical Aristotelian framework of metaphysical composition in terms of act and potency’ (Clarke).”
In chapter three, we will delve into the heart of the matters indicated in the very title of Morello’s book. First, however, we will receive detailed explanations, successively approached from various angles, regarding the profound nature of the world around us and how God created everything that exists. We also notice the author’s care to avoid the risks of any form of pantheism, always remaining within the boundaries of a thought faithful to Christian Tradition. Although there are countless quotes that deserve mention, after several re-readings, I have chosen a passage that provides a comprehensive description of the metaphysical structure of creation and creatures:
A created essence is determined by the idea of it in the divine mind, but its actuality is determined by its composition with esse as a real finite being which in turn participates as an individual in a likeness of the divine nature. For such a composition to take place, there must be in the divine mind the idea not only of the created essence, but of the individuated essence as an existing thing; this, however, is via the mediation of the divine will, which is only conceptually distinct from the divine mind. This view of exemplarism safeguards the radical distinction between creature and Creator, whilst maintaining the former as in part a reflection of the latter.
From the perspective of the specific language of classical Greek philosophy, the conceptual distinction is between ὁ ὤν, i.e., the Supreme Being that is a Tri-Personal Unique God (the Holy Trinity), and τὸ ὄν, i.e., the Being discussed by Aristotle and other metaphysicians. In the intellect of God are found the divine ideas, summed up in the uncreated Wisdom, while the likenesses of the Ideas in the mind of God are found in the external, created manifestation of divine Wisdom.
Clearly, we are dealing with a scalar ontology that, on the one hand, clearly distinguishes—thus avoiding pantheism—between the absolute, immutable, eternal, and perfect Creator and His creatures, sustained in existence through the so-called creatio continua as taught by the Fathers and Doctors of the Church. The level of the cosmos and creatures is divided according to the classical distinction between the “intelligible universe” (Gr. kósmos noetós), accessible to the intellect, and the “sensible universe” (Gr. kósmos aisthetikos), accessible to the senses. Also hierarchically ordered, we find creatures composed of “matter” and “form:” first are those endowed with intellect, angels and humans; then, living beings in the air, water, and on the earth—all within the context of the world where different materials (earth, water, air, fire, and ether) structure everything that exists in our natural habitat.
I don’t claim to clarify such difficult matters in a review. Instead I want to emphasize the quality of exposition and analyses by Morello, which provides us with a complete and accurate description of the ontology of St. Thomas, in particular a statement as concise as it is profound: “the Thomist approach presents the world as a picture of God.” In my appraisal, the analogy of divine creation with works of art is the most convincing direction of consistent philosophical thought. With the same accuracy and richness of quotes and reflections, Morello proposes three images of the Creator. Being only analogical, these metaphors are limited. And yet, they are the best possible descriptions.
The first, taken from Gregory T. Doolan, is that of the Creator seen as the painter of a self-portrait. The second analogy is inspired by the beginning of Tolkien’s work The Silmarillion, where we encounter the idea of creation through music (what I have called, in an article dedicated to the subject, “musical cosmogony”). Morello’s reason for preferring the image of God as a musician is related to the fact that “the music is dependent on it being willed and produced by the musician at every moment; were he to stop playing, the music too would stop.” In other words, just as music is a continuous work, creation is also a perpetual creation. Finally, the third analogy of divine creative exemplarism is based on a succinct suggestion of St. Thomas referring to the divine Logos creating through “words.” Morello identifies here the analogy of God the creator with a speaker.
As in a well-written novel, the content of Morello’s monograph became even more interesting as I advanced in reading. The last chapter, entitled “Participation Metaphysics and Aesthetics,” represents not only the logical culmination of the entire book but its climax. Firmly situating itself within the perspective of Thomistic metaphysics, after quoting a passage from the Summa Theologica (I, 39, 8) where beauty is defined by its three conditions—integrity, proportion (or harmony), and brightness (or clarity)—Morello shows that these “are, in fact, understood to be transcendental attributes of being as grasped through the prism of aesthetics.” He then develops a series of reflections inspired by the notes of his master, Sir Roger Scruton, regarding the ambiguous nature of beauty, whose pursuit “can conflict with the pursuit of both truth and goodness.”
Those who wish to understand the profound nature of the artistic technê (i.e., “craft”) will find, in the same terms of Thomistic ontology, that every creation involves the transference (or imposition) of an intelligible form onto natural materials. If we consider the famous example of a sculptor facing an unformed block of marble, we will notice the existence of the ‘idea’ in the artist’s mind, which, in its capacity as an intelligible ‘form,’ will be applied to the matter. This results in the statue, which, if it fulfills the conditions of beauty noted by St. Thomas, will delight our eyes. Always attentive to essential details, Morello emphasizes that, despite appearances, the origin of beauty should not be sought at the external level of creation but, on the contrary, at the internal, invisible level of form. For him, “the beauty of art is the radiance of the form, at the service of which is the matter. The beauty, then, is situated in the transcendent idea, of which the art (by virtue of its form) is a likeness.”
Journals and memoirs of great artists—whether painters, musicians, or writers—confirm that the most challenging struggle lies in the ‘incarnation’ of the idea (or vision) into the ‘materials’ used for creation: colors, shapes, sounds, or words. Hence Morello is intriguing in his comments regarding the similarity—or complementarity—between the vocation of philosophers and that of artists. Being contemplatives of essences, both categories “must ascend via the created hierarchy to the divine mind, so as to ‘return to those in the Cave,’ so to speak, bearing the torch of hidden truth, that it may be seen clearly and brightly.” Emphasizing how the artist contemplates the divine mysteries, Morello proves himself a gifted writer when describing artistic creation as “an act of elegant domination.”
Those interested in the crucial subject of sacred art will not be disappointed. The author boldly asserts “that all art (by which I specifically mean the arts of the beautiful), without exception, is religious.” Although such a postulate requires serious exploration, it is the best starting point for establishing a valid criterion for the arts, in the same vein as the famous documentary film Why Beauty Matters written and presented by Sir Roger Scruton. Moreover, this open perspective allows Morello precisely to diagnose the emptiness of meaning and content in the creations of modern artists who, conditioned by the heresies of the “post-Christian” world, are no longer capable of ascending towards divine matters. To skeptics questioning why the author claims that art is profoundly religious, he responds that “the reason most directly related to the ontology we have advanced is that the artist has as his object the deepest meaning of the world.”
A true celebration of the mind for lovers of classical ancient and medieval thought, Sebastian Morello’s monograph can be a valuable guide for artists seeking a deeper understanding of their vocation. Above all, however, it is one of the aids we need to fulfill the imperative of rediscovering that tradition “from which we have tragically departed.” It is the tradition of ancient yet eternally youthful Christian thought, which not only knew how to think (as demonstrated by St. Thomas) but also how to create artistic masterpieces, as shown by the works of Dante Alighieri, Abbot Suger, Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, Thomas Stearns Eliot, and John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. It is a mark of the highest esteem that Morello’s work would have been read with delight by any of them.
