The Thought of Saint Thomas Aquinas: More Than Plato and Aristotle

When I first opened Dr. Sebastian Morello’s monograph, The World as God’s Icon: Creator and Creation in the Platonic Thought of Thomas Aquinas (Angelico Press, 2020), 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 presents the doctrine of the Angelic Doctor without being intimidated by the plethora of thinkers who, instead of carefully re-reading Aquinas, have preferred to circulate sterile clichés about his Aristotelianism.

The following excerpt describes his exegetical approach:

It did not go unnoticed that I was deeply Platonist in many of my conclusions, and I have never ceased to be, but rather have sought to synthesize what is true in both Platonism and Aristotelianism, which I now argue in some way to characterize Thomism: a Platonic and Aristotelian synthesis… and a lot more.

The quality of the interpretations proposed by Morello does not result from the fact that he argues for the reception of both Plato and Aristotle in the context of the thinking of Saint Thomas, but it derives from the description of all major influences received and filtered by the genius of the Angelic Doctor. The scholastics thinker assumed, in a personal manner, philosophical ideas and solutions that belong, as the case may be, to Plato or Aristotle–and also to other significant authors (like Saints Augustine and Dionysius the Areopagite). Such an undertaking requires a good knowledge of the texts and an adequate understanding of them. Morello fulfills both requirements.

The preface of the book introduces us not only to the theoretical discussions that the author will engage in but also to the context of his own spiritual journey. We are made participants in the joy of the beauty born through contemplating the landscapes of North Buckinghamshire. At the same time, we learn that his family “was always one to value the arts,” so he grew up “in a home where the walls were covered in good pictures, the rooms were pleasingly arranged, and music was taken seriously.” All of these factors led to philosophical questions regarding the nature of beauty. Additionally, accounts of his travels in India, where he would be received into the Catholic Church, make us curious to learn more about his inner journey. Gradually, after mentioning the discovery of the Existential Thomist School, Morello takes us to the heart of that theme–the world as an icon of God–which represents the axis of the research presented in the discussed book.

I dare to say that his stake is not merely an academic one, however. On the contrary, his scholarly endeavor is strictly subordinated to a keen awareness of the crisis of the modern world and the Christian Church. This is why the author can assert emphatically, “I judge it imperative that we rediscover our identity in the West as heirs to a continuous tradition from which we have tragically departed.” What he proposes for himself as an author and what he offers to us as readers is no small matter, “This book (…) is a humble invitation to see what things look like outside the Cave.”

However, understanding the effort required to leave the cave, we realize that we are dealing with an invitation that involves not only intellectual demands but also ascetic-contemplative ones. Indeed, the pages of his book are ultimately a good opportunity to practice “spiritual exercises” designed to lead us to the heights of the ultimate things in theology and metaphysics.

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.” The number and the significance of those adhering to this view is not small: Christ Cavanagh O.P., Joseph Pieper, Gilbert Keith Chesterton, Bertrand Russell, David Chidester, Henry Sire, Frederick Copleston S.J., Martin d’Arcy, Anthony Kenny, Anthony Towey, Edward Fesser. Even the legendary theologian and philosopher Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange O.P. is included. 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 Saint 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.

Morello’s statement is exceptionally subtle, expressed in refined conceptual language. Sometimes, confusions like the one he 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. In other words, specialists in the thought of Saint 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 (idea/form) in the sensible (matter)–are not only extremely difficult but, due to the inherent limits of our fallen condition, insoluble in discursive terms.

This is why, personally, 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 in categorical and emphatic terms of a particular interpretation would actually hinder the flight of contemplation. It is futile to give up replacing the light bulb because you are not capable of proposing a perfect description of the ladder. 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 Saint Thomas, pronounces 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 render is 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 (Aquinas’s view).

Firstly, to engage in a discussion about “matter” without being able to explain what it is (and you will find no complete explanation of it in either Aristotle or Aquinas) is a bit too enthusiastic. Secondly, to apply the qualification of “infinity” to any created entity is, to say the least, daring. Saint Bonaventure warned his contemporaries against the use of such a qualification. Thirdly, from another perspective, 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. This can be a fatal mistake. If someone explains to you in great detail what Lapland looks like and how to get there, it doesn’t mean that you have actually arrived there. True metaphysical knowledge is only for those to whom the Supreme Being itself, God, reveals the secrets of His creation—as He pleases.

The above critical note certainly does not prohibit speculation; it just aims to underline its limits. Morello does this himself—at least implicitly. He, by accurately explaining the differences between interpretations based on explanatory models proposed by Plato, Aristotle, or Saint Thomas, introduces a healthy dose of intellectual humility. This crucial moral value must be observed even though, sometimes, we 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.”

As an old scholar in Plato, I assure you that no one is able to produce a single phrase from his dialogues where he says something like what is implied in the 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, he 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 Aristotle and Aquinas’ insights or the conceptual distinction between “matter” and “form.”

An indirect confirmation of the relativization of the disjunction between Platonic and Aristotelian thought is linked to one of the very important sources of Aquinas’s thinking. I am referring to the small yet highly influential treatise Liber de Causis. With the same scholarly precision, Sebastian Morello shows that for a long time in the Middle Ages, it was believed that the writing belonged to Aristotle. Saint Thomas himself, quoted extensively, indicates that it is, in fact, a summary of the treatise Elements of Theology attributed to Proclus. The fact that a text of certain Neoplatonic origin could pass for centuries as belonging to Aristotle proves, in my opinion, how profound–the unity of the two schools of thought is, even if not always apparent. In fact, as we see in influential treatises like The Fountain of Knowledge by Saint John of Damascus, they were never treated by certain thinkers as being disharmonious.

Before approaching the second chapter of Morello’s book, let’s note a reference name for him: William Norris Clarke S.J. Well-known among American scholars, it is an entirely new name for me. From the numerous quotes mentioned by Morello, I understand that the Jesuit philosopher managed to transcend unproductive polemics, interpreting Thomistic thought in favor of both influences–Platonic and Aristotelian.

The metaphor of the “two main streams of Western philosophy” used by Clarke to describe the contribution of Platonism and Aristotelianism may be ideal if we conceive these two streams as belonging to the same river. 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 convinces me that he was dealing with the same metaphysical background, which has experienced complementary developments and contributions. The key to understanding 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 Saint Thomas. Before asserting this, Morello quoted a substantial excerpt from Boethius’ commentary on 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, 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).” I have retained as particularly instructive and clear the image of the cosmic, logocentric proportions, which I reproduce here:

Aquinas therefore concludes that this source can be nothing other than God Himself, the efficient cause of all being, rendering the world intelligible in its multiplicity as the ultimate exemplary cause of every form by the ideas of the divine mind, the Eternal Logos.

In chapter three, we will delve into the heart of the matters indicated in the very title of Dr. 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. Morello insists on this distinction, uncovering the influence of Neoplatonism:

As the divine ideas are exemplar causes of created essences, they are the causes of the principle of potency (which requires a principle of act); the divine nature on the other hand is the exemplar cause of any act of being, and thus the cause of the principle of act (which requires a principle of limitation). The distinction, then, is real, but entails no composition or separation in God; furthermore the distinction is necessary to give an account of the world according to Aquinas’s Neoplatonic ontology. Both modes of exemplarism are required, and, as Dolan states, ‘both are dependent upon the mediation of the divine will, for an exemplar is effective only because an agent determines the end of that which is exemplified.’

Clearly, we are dealing with a scalar ontology that, on the one hand, clearly distinguishes–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. What I want to emphasize relates to the quality of exposition and analyses by Dr. Sebastian Morello, which provides us with a complete and accurate description of the ontology of Saint Thomas. The part that literally enthused me is the one that develops a statement as concise as it is profound: “the Thomist approach presents the world as a picture of God.” For me, 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:

Developing Thomas’s analogy from art, we could compare these moments to those of an artist’s painting a self-portrait. In the first moment, the artist’s likeness is imitable in itself; in the second moment, he has an idea of its imitability; in the third, he paints his likeness, a likeness that is simultaneously similar to both his idea and, in a certain respect, himself as a whole.

The second analogy is inspired by the beginning of Tolkien’s work The Silmarillion, where we encounter the idea of creation through music (or what I myself have called, in an article dedicated to the subject, “musical cosmogony”). The reason for preferring the image of God as a musician is stated in the following:

For an analogy of the exemplarism of the divine nature I would opt for that of a musician playing an instrument. Here 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. If God were not to support–even for just a single moment–His creatures in existence, they would instantaneously vanish.

Finally, the third analogy of divine creative exemplarism is elucidated in a massive excerpt from the Summa contra Gentiles, quoted in its entirety. I will only record the example proposed by Saint Thomas at the end of that particular fragment:

For instance, when a man sees that his mental conception cannot be expressed adequately by one spoken word, he multiplies his words in various ways, to express his mental conception through a variety of means. And the eminence of divine perfection may be observed in this fact, that perfect goodness which is present in God in a unified and simple manner cannot be in creatures except in a diversified manner and through a plurality of things. Now, things are differentiated by their possession of different forms from which they receive their species.

Based on this succinct suggestion of Saint Thomas referring to the divine Logos creating through “words,” Morello identifies here the analogy of God the creator with a speaker. What surprised me is that he did not follow Tolkien’s suggestions, whose ideas he knows very well, and who would have spoken not about a speaker but about God the writer. An analogy valid for at least two extraordinarily powerful reasons: the first, related to the fact that only the scope of a novel, or rather, an epic, can reveal the complexity of divine creation; the second, related to the fact that the divine Revelation is contained in a monumental book, the Holy Bible. A book that is not only free from any error but also contains all imaginable literary genres. Confronted with such a supreme literary masterpiece, we easily understand why Tolkien asserts that we can only consider ourselves sub-creators.

Like in a well-written novel, the content of Sebastian Morello’s monograph became even more interesting as I advanced in reading. The last chapter, entitled “Participation Metaphysics and Aesthetics,” represents for me 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 Saint Thomas, will delight our eyes. Always attentive to essential details, Dr. 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, I would say) into the “materials” used for creation: colors, shapes, sounds, or words.

Very interesting are the 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. Moreover, this open perspective allows Morello 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.”

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”–as the author asserts. It is the tradition of ancient yet eternally youthful Christian thought, which not only knew how to think, as demonstrated by Saint 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, or John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. I am convinced that Morello’s work would have been read with delight by any of them.

The World as God’s Icon: Creator and Creation in the Platonic Thought of Thomas Aquinas
By Sebastian Morello
Brooklyn: Angelico Press, 2020; 154pp

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