In what the office of a wise man consists

My mouth shall meditate truth, and my lips shall hate impiety.

Proverbs 8:7

The general use which, in the Philosopher’s opinion¹ should be followed in naming things, has resulted in those men being called “wise” who order things rightly and govern them well. Hence, among other things which men conceive of the wise man, the Philosopher reckons that it belongs to the wise man to order things.² Now the rule of all things directed to the end of government and order must be taken from their end: for a thing is best disposed when it is fittingly directed to its end, since the end of everything is its good. Thus in the arts we observe that the art which governs and rules another is the one to which the latter’s end belongs. In this way the medical art rules and directs the art of the druggist, because health which is the object of medicine is the end of all drugs which are made up by the druggist’s art. The same may be observed in the art of sailing in relation to the art of ship-building, and in the military art in relation to the equestrian art and all warlike appliances. These arts which govern others are called “architectonic,” that is, “principal arts,” for which reason their craftsmen, who are called architects, are awarded the name of wise men.

Since, however, these same craftsmen, through being occupied with the ends of certain singular things, do not come to the universal end of all things, they are called wise about this or that, in which sense it is said, as a wise architect, I have laid the foundation (1 Cor 3:10), whereas the name of being wise simply is reserved to him alone who considers the end of the universe, which is also the beginning of the universe. Thus, according to the Philosopher, it belongs to the wise man to consider the highest causes.¹

Now the ultimate end of each thing is that which is intended by the first author or mover of that thing, and the first author and mover of the universe is an intellect, as we shall prove further on.¹ Consequently, the ultimate end of the universe must be the good of the intellect, and this is truth. Therefore, truth must be the ultimate end of the whole universe, and the consideration of it must be the chief occupation of wisdom. And for this reason divine wisdom, clothed in flesh, declares that he came into the world to make known the truth, saying, for this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth (John 18:37).

Moreover, the Philosopher defines the first philosophy as being the knowledge of truth.¹ not of any truth, but of that truth which is the source of all truth, namely, of that which relates to the first principle of being of all things. Hence its truth is the principle of all truth, since the disposition of things is the same in truth as in being.

Now it belongs to the same thing to pursue one contrary and to remove the other: thus medicine, which effects health, removes sickness. Hence, just as it belongs to a wise man primarily to meditate on the first principle and speak of it to others, so it belongs to him to refute contrary falsehood.

Therefore, the twofold office of the wise man is fittingly declared from the mouth of wisdom, in the words above quoted (Prov 8:7); namely, to meditate and publish the divine truth (which antonomastically is the truth, as signified by the words: my mouth shall meditate truth); and to refute the error contrary to truth, as signified by the words: and my lips shall hate impiety, by which is denoted falsehood opposed to divine truth, which is the contrary of religion (which is also called “piety”; hence the falsehood that is contrary to it receives the name of “impiety”).

The author’s intention in this work

Now of all human pursuits, that of wisdom is the most perfect, the most sublime, the most profitable, and the most delightful. It is the most perfect, since a man already shares in true happiness in proportion as he devotes himself to the pursuit of wisdom. Thus the wise man says, blessed is the man who meditates on wisdom (Sir 14:20). It is the most sublime because by it man especially approaches to a likeness to God, who made all things in wisdom (Ps 104[103]:24). Thus, since likeness is the cause of love, the pursuit of wisdom especially unites man to God by friendship: hence it is said that wisdom is an unfailing treasure for men; those who use it obtain friendship with God (Wis 7:14). It is the most profitable, because by wisdom itself man is brought to the kingdom of immortality, for the desire of wisdom leads to the everlasting kingdom (Wis 6:21). And it is the most delightful because companionship with her has no bitterness, and life with her has no pain, but gladness and joy (Wis 8:16).

Therefore, assuming the office of the wise man with confidence from God’s loving kindness, although it surpasses our own powers, the purpose we have in view is, in our own weak way, to declare the truth which the Catholic faith professes, while weeding out contrary errors; for, in the words of Hilary, I acknowledge that I owe my life’s chief occupation to God, so that every word and every thought of mine may speak of him.¹

But it is difficult to refute the errors of each individual, for two reasons. First, because we do not know the sacrilegious assertions of each erring individual well enough to refute their errors with arguments from what they say. For the doctors of old used this method to confute the errors of the heathens, whose opinions they were able to know since they had been heathens themselves, or at least had lived among heathens and were conversant with their teachings.

Second, because some of them, like the Mohammedans and pagans, do not agree with us as to the authority of any Scripture by which they may be convinced in the same way as we are able to dispute with the Jews by means of the Old Testament, and with heretics by means of the New. But the former accept neither. Thus we need to have recourse to natural reason, to which all are compelled to assent. And yet this is deficient in the things of God.

But while we are occupied in the inquiry about a particular truth, we shall show what errors are excluded thereby, and how demonstrable truth is in agreement with the faith of the Christian religion.

Faith and reason

In what way it is possible to make known the divine truth

Since, however, not every truth should be made known in the same way, and it is the part of an educated man to seek for conviction in each subject only so far as the nature of the subject allows,¹ as the Philosopher most rightly observes, as quoted by Boethius,² it is necessary to show first of all in what way it is possible to make known the aforesaid truth.

Now, in those things which we hold about God there is truth in two ways. For certain things that are true about God wholly surpass the capability of human reason: for instance, that God is three and one. But there are certain things to which even natural reason can attain, for instance, that God is, that God is one, and others like these, which even the philosophers, being guided by the light of natural reason, proved demonstratively about God.

That certain divine truths wholly surpass the capability of human reason is most clearly evident.

For, since the principle of all the knowledge which the reason acquires about a thing is the understanding of that thing’s essence—because, according to the Philosopher’s teaching¹ the principle of a demonstration is what a thing is—it follows that our knowledge about a thing will be in proportion to our understanding of its essence. Therefore, if the human intellect comprehends the essence of a particular thing, such as a stone or a triangle, no truth about that thing will surpass the capability of human reason. But this does not happen to us in relation to God, because the human intellect is incapable by its natural power of attaining to the comprehension of his essence. For our intellect’s knowledge, according to the mode of the present life, originates from the senses: and thus things which are not objects of sense cannot be comprehended by the human intellect except insofar as knowledge of them is gathered from sensibles. Now sensibles cannot lead our intellect to see in them what God is, because they are effects unequal to the power of their cause. And yet our intellect is led by sensibles to the divine knowledge so as to know about God that he is, and other such truths which need to be ascribed to the first principle. Accordingly, some divine truths are attainable by human reason, while others altogether surpass the power of human reason.

Again, the same is easy to see from the degrees of intellects. For if one of two men perceives a thing with his intellect with greater subtlety, the one whose intellect is of a higher degree understands many things which the other is altogether unable to grasp, as instanced in a yokel who is utterly incapable of grasping the subtleties of philosophy. Now the angelic intellect surpasses the human intellect more than the intellect of the cleverest philosopher surpasses that of the most ignorant idiot: becuase this distance is contained within the limits of the human species, which the angelic intellect surpasses. For an angel knows God through a more excellent effect than does man, as much as the angel’s essence, through which he is led to know God by natural knowledge, is more excellent than sensible things, even than the soul itself, by which the human intellect mounts to the knowledge of God. And the divine intellect surpasses the angelic intellect much more than the angelic surpasses the human. For the divine intellect by its capacity equals the divine essence: hence God perfectly understands of himself what he is, and he knows all things that can be understood about him. But the angel does not know what God is by his natural knowledge, because the angel’s essence, by which he is led to the knowledge of God, is an effect unequal to the power of its cause. Consequently, an angel is unable to grasp by his natural knowledge all that God understands about himself, neither is human reason capable of grasping all that an angel understands by his natural power. Accordingly, just as a man would show himself to be a most insane fool if he declared the assertions of a philosopher to be false because he was unable to understand them, much more so would a man would be exceedingly foolish if he were to suspect of falsehood the things revealed by God through the ministry of his angels, because they cannot be the object of reason’s investigations.

Furthermore, the same is made abundantly clear by the deficiency which we experience every day in our knowledge of things. For we are ignorant of many of the properties of sensible things, and in many cases we are unable to discover the nature of those properties which we perceive by our senses. Much less, therefore, is human reason capable of investigating all the truths about that most sublime essence.

This agrees with the saying of the Philosopher, where he says that our intellect is like the eye of a bat in relation to the sun in relation to those primary things which are most evident in nature.¹

To this truth Holy Writ also bears witness. For it is written: can you find out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limit of the Almighty? (Job 11:7), and: behold, God is great, exceeding our knowledge (Job 36:26), and: we know in part (1 Cor 13:9).

Therefore, all that is said about God, though it cannot be investigated by reason, must not be immediately rejected as false, as the Manicheans and many unbelievers have thought.¹

That the truth about divine things which is attainable by reason is fittingly proposed to man as an object of belief

While, then, the truth of the intelligible things of God is twofold—one to which the inquiry of reason can attain, the other which surpasses the whole range of human reason—both are fittingly proposed by God to man as an object of belief.

We must first show this with regard to that truth which is attainable by the inquiry of reason, lest it appear to some that, since it can be attained by reason, it is useless to make it an object of faith by supernatural inspiration. Now, there would be three unsuitable consequences if this truth were left solely to the inquiry of reason.

One is that few men would have knowledge of God. For very many are hindered from gathering the fruit of diligent inquiry, which is the discovery of truth, for three reasons.

Some, indeed, on account of an indisposition of temperament, from which many are naturally indisposed to knowledge, so that no efforts of theirs would enable them to reach to the attainment of the highest degree of human knowledge, which consists in knowing God. Some are hindered by the needs of household affairs. For there must be among men some that devote themselves to the conduct of temporal affairs, who would be unable to devote so much time to the leisure of contemplative research as to reach the summit of human inquiry, namely, the knowledge of God. And some are hindered by laziness. For in order to acquire the knowledge of God in those things which reason is able to investigate, one must have a previous knowledge of many things. For almost the entire consideration of philosophy is directed to the knowledge of God, on account of which metaphysics, which is about divine things, is the last of the parts of philosophy to be studied. Thus it is not possible to arrive at the inquiry about the aforesaid truth except after a most laborious study, and few are willing to take upon themselves this labor out of the love of knowledge, even though God has instilled natural desire for it in the minds of men.

The second inconvenience is that those who would arrive at the discovery of the aforesaid truth would scarcely succeed in doing so after a long time. First, because this truth is so profound that the human intellect is only enabled to grasp it by reason after long practice. Second, because many things are required beforehand, as stated above. Third, because the mind is not fit for the knowledge of so sublime a truth at the time of youth, when tossed about by the various movements of the passions, but calm gives prudence and knowledge, as it says in the Physics.¹ Hence mankind would remain in the deepest darkness of ignorance if the path of reason were the only available way to the knowledge of God, because the knowledge of God, which especially makes men perfect and good, would be acquired only by the few, and by these only after a long time.

The third inconvenience is that much falsehood is mingled with the investigations of human reason, on account of our intellect’s weakness in forming judgments, and the admixture of phantasms. Consequently, many would remain in doubt about those things even which are most truly demonstrated while ignoring the force of the demonstration, especially when they perceive that different things are taught by the various men who are called wise. Moreover, among the many demonstrated truths there is sometimes a mixture of falsehood, which is not demonstrated but asserted for some probable or sophistical reason which at times is mistaken for a demonstration. Therefore, it was necessary that definite certainty and pure truth about divine things should be offered to man by the way of faith.

Therefore, the divine clemency helpfully provides that even some things which reason is able to investigate are held by faith, so that all may share in the knowledge of God easily, and without doubt or error.

Thus it is written, you must no longer live as the gentiles do, in the futility of their minds; they are darkened in their understanding (Eph 4:17–18), and: all your sons shall be taught by the Lord (Isa 54:13).

That those things which cannot be investigated by reason are fittingly proposed to man as an object of faith

It may appear to some that those things which cannot be investigated by reason ought not to be proposed to man as an object of faith, because divine wisdom provides for each thing according to the mode of its nature. We must, therefore, prove that it is also necessary for those things which surpass reason to be proposed by God to man as an object of faith.

For no man tends to do a thing by his desire and endeavor unless it be previously known to him. Thus, since man is directed by divine providence to a higher good than human frailty can attain in the present life, as we shall show in the sequel,¹ his mind had to be bidden to something higher than those things to which our reason can reach in the present life, so that he might learn to aspire and to tend by his endeavors to something surpassing the whole state of the present life. And this is especially true about the Christian religion, which alone promises spiritual and eternal goods, for which reason it proposes many things surpassing the thought of man. But the old law, which contained promises of temporal things, proposed few things above human inquiry. It was with this motive that the philosophers, to wean men from sensible pleasures to virtue, took care to show that there are other goods of greater account than those which appeal to the senses, the taste of which things affords much greater delight to those who devote themselves to active or contemplative virtues.

Again, this truth needed to be proposed to man as an object of faith so that he may have truer knowledge of God. For we only know God truly when we believe that he is far above all that man can possibly think of God, for the divine essence surpasses man’s natural knowledge, as stated above.¹ Thus, by the fact that certain things about God are proposed to man which surpass his reason, he is strengthened in his opinion that God is far above what he is able to think.

Another advantage results from this, namely, the checking of presumption, which is the mother of error. For there are some who presume so far on their wits that they think themselves capable of measuring the whole nature of things by their intellect, namely, thinking all things are true that seem so to them, and false which do not. Accordingly, so that man’s mind might be freed from this presumption and seek the truth humbly, it was necessary that God should propose to man certain things far surpassing his intellect.

Yet another advantage is made apparent by the words of the Philosopher. For when a certain Simonides maintained that man should neglect the knowledge of God and apply his mind to human affairs, and declared that a man ought to relish human things, and a mortal, mortal things, the Philosopher contradicted him, saying that a man ought to devote himself to immortal and divine things as much as he can.¹ Hence he says² that though we perceive but little of higher substances, yet that little is more loved and desired than all the knowledge we have of lower substances. He also says³ that when questions about the heavenly bodies can be answered by a short and probable solution, the hearer rejoices greatly. All this shows that however imperfect the knowledge of the highest things may be, it bestows very great perfection on the soul.

And consequently, although human reason is unable to fully grasp things above reason, it nevertheless acquires much perfection if at least it hold things, in any way whatever, by faith.

Thus it is written, matters too great for human understanding have been shown you (Sir 3:25), and: the things that are of God no man knows, but the Spirit of God: but to us God hath revealed them by his Spirit (1 Cor 2:10).

That it is not a mark of levity to assent to the things that are of faith although they are above reason

Now those who believe this truth, of which reason affords no proof¹ believe not lightly, as though following foolish² fables (2 Pet 1:16).

For divine wisdom himself, who knows all things most fully, deigned to reveal to man the secrets of God’s wisdom (Job 11:6), and by suitable arguments proves his presence, and the truth of his doctrine and inspiration, by performing works surpassing the capability of the whole of nature, namely, the wondrous healing of the sick, the raising of the dead to life, a marvellous control over the heavenly bodies, and, what excites yet more wonder, the inspiration of human minds, so that unlettered and simple persons are filled with the Holy Spirit, and in one instant are endowed with the most sublime wisdom and eloquence.

And after considering these arguments, convinced by the strength of the proof, and not by the force of arms, nor by the promise of delights, but—and this is the greatest marvel of all—amidst the tyranny of persecutions, a countless crowd of not only simple but also of the wisest men, embraced the Christian faith, which inculcates things surpassing all human understanding, curbs the pleasures of the flesh, and teaches contempt of all worldly things. That the minds of mortal beings should assent to such things is both the greatest of miracles, and the evident work of divine inspiration, seeing that they despise visible things and desire only those that are invisible.

And that this happened not suddenly nor by chance, but by the disposition of God, is shown by the fact that God foretold that he would do so by the manifold oracles of the prophets, whose books we hold in veneration as bearing witness to our faith.

This particular kind of proof is alluded to in Hebrews 2:3–4: which, namely the salvation of mankind, having begun to be declared by the Lord, was confirmed with us by them that heard him, God also bearing witness by signs and wonders, and diverse¹ distributions of the Holy Spirit.

Now, such a wondrous conversion of the world to the Christian faith is a most indubitable proof that such signs did take place, so that there is no need to repeat them when they are so evidently apparent from their effect. For it would be the most wondrous sign of all if, without any wondrous signs, the world were persuaded by simple and lowly men to believe things so arduous, to accomplish things so difficult, and to hope for things so sublime. (Although even in our time God does not cease to work miracles through his saints in confirmation of the faith.)

On the other hand, those who introduced the errors of the sects proceeded in contrary fashion, as is clear from Mohammed, who enticed peoples with the promise of carnal pleasures, to the desire of which the concupiscence of the flesh instigates. He also delivered commandments in keeping with his promises, by giving the reins to carnal pleasure, in which it is easy for carnal men to obey. Also, the lessons of truth which he inculcated were only such as can be easily known to any man of average wisdom by his natural powers—in fact, he mingled the truths which he taught with many fables and most false doctrines. Nor did he add any signs of supernatural agency, which alone are a fitting witness to divine inspiration, since a visible work that can only be from God proves the teacher of truth to be invisibly inspired, but he asserted that he was sent in the power of arms, which sign is not lacking even to robbers and tyrants. Again, those who believed in him from the outset were not wise men practiced in things divine and human, but bestial men who dwelt in the deserts, utterly ignorant of all divine teaching, and it was by a multitude of such men and the force of arms that he compelled others to submit to his law. Lastly, no divine oracles of prophets in a previous age bore witness to him; rather, he corrupted almost all the teaching of the Old and New Testaments by a narrative replete with fables, as one may see by a perusal of his law. Hence, by a cunning device, he did not commit the reading of the Old and New Testament books to his followers, lest he should thereby be convicted of falsehood. Thus it is evident that those who believe his words believe lightly.

That the truth of reason is not in opposition to the truth of the Christian faith

Now, though the aforesaid truth of the Christian faith surpasses the ability of human reason, nevertheless those things which are naturally instilled in human reason cannot be opposed to this truth.

For it is clear that those things which are implanted in reason by nature are most true, so much so that it is impossible to think them to be false. Nor is it lawful to deem false that which is held by faith, since it is so evidently confirmed by God. Seeing, then, that the false alone is opposed to the true (as is obvious if we examine their definitions), it is impossible for the aforesaid truth of faith to be contrary to those principles which reason knows naturally.

Again. The same thing which the disciple’s mind receives from its teacher is contained in the knowledge of the teacher—unless he teach fictitiously, which is wicked to say of God. Now, the knowledge of naturally known principles is instilled into us by God, since God himself is the author of our nature. Therefore, the divine wisdom also contains these principles. Consequently, whatever is contrary to these principles is contrary to the divine wisdom. Therefore, it cannot be from God. Therefore, those things which are received by faith from divine revelation cannot be contrary to our natural knowledge.

Moreover. Contrary arguments bind our intellect so that it cannot advance to the knowledge of truth. Therefore, if conflicting knowledges were instilled into us by God, our intellect would thereby be hindered from knowing the truth. And this cannot be ascribed to God.

Furthermore. Things that are natural are unchangeable so long as nature remains. Now, contrary opinions cannot be together in the same subject. Therefore, God does not instil into man any opinion or belief contrary to natural knowledge.

Hence the Apostle says: the word is near you, on your lips and in your heart: this is the word of faith which we preach (Rom 10:8). Yet, because it surpasses reason, some look upon it as though it were contrary to reason; which is impossible.

This is confirmed also by the authority of Augustine, who says: that which truth shall make known can in no way be in opposition to the holy books, whether of the Old or of the New Testament.¹

From this we may evidently conclude that whatever arguments are alleged against the teachings of faith, they do not rightly proceed from the first self-evident principles instilled by nature. Hence they lack the force of demonstration, and are either probable or sophistical arguments, and consequently it is possible to solve them.

In what relation human reason stands to the truth of faith

It would also seem well to observe that sensible things, from which human reason derives the source of its knowledge, retain a certain trace of likeness to God, but so imperfect that it proves altogether inadequate to manifest the substance itself of God. For effects resemble their causes according to their own mode, since like action proceeds from like agent; and yet the effect does not always reach to a perfect likeness to the agent. Accordingly, human reason is adapted to the knowledge of the truth of faith (which can be known in the highest degree only by those who see the divine substance) insofar as it is able to put together certain probable arguments in support of it, which nevertheless are insufficient to enable us to understand the aforesaid truth as though it were demonstrated or understood in itself.

And yet, however weak these arguments may be, it is useful for the human mind to be practiced in them, so long as it does not pride itself on having comprehended or demonstrated, since although our view of the sublimest things is limited and weak, it is most pleasant to be able to catch but a glimpse of them, as appears from what has been said.¹

The authority of Hilary concords with this, for he says in his book On the Trinity,¹ while speaking of this same truth: begin by believing these things, advance and persevere, and though I know you will not arrive, I shall rejoice at your advance. For he who devoutly follows in pursuit of the infinite, though he never come up with it, will always advance by setting forth. Yet do not pry into that secret, and do not meddle in the mystery of the birth of the infinite,² nor presume to grasp that which is the summit of understanding, but understand that there are things you cannot grasp.

Accordingly, from what we have been saying it is evident that the intention of the wise man must be directed to the twofold truth of divine things and to the refutation of contrary errors, and that the reason’s investigation can reach one of these, but the other surpasses every effort of reason. And I speak of a twofold truth of divine things not on the part of God himself, who is truth one and simple, but on the part of our knowledge, which has a variable relation to the knowledge of divine things.

Therefore, in order to deduce the first kind of truth, we must proceed by demonstrative arguments by which we can convince our adversaries. But, since there are no such arguments in support of the second kind of truth, our intention must be not to convince our opponent by our arguments, but to solve the arguments which he brings against the truth, because, as shown above,¹ natural reason cannot be opposed to the truth of faith.

In a special way, the opponent of this kind of truth may be convinced by the authority of Scripture confirmed by God with miracles, since we do not believe what is above human reason unless God has revealed it.

In support, however, of this kind of truth, certain probable arguments must be adduced for the practice and help of the faithful, but not for the conviction of our opponents, because the very insufficiency of these arguments would rather confirm them in their error if they thought that we assented to the truth of faith on account of such weak reasonings.

With the intention, then, of proceeding in the manner laid down, we shall first endeavor to declare that truth which is the object of faith’s confession and of reason’s researches, by adducing arguments both demonstrative and probable, some of which we have gathered from the writings of the philosophers and of holy men, so as to thereby confirm the truth and convince our opponents.

After this, so as to proceed from the more to the less manifest, we shall, with God’s help, proceed to declare that truth which surpasses reason by refuting the arguments of our opponents, and by setting forth the truth of faith by means of probable arguments and authority.¹

Seeing, then, that we intend by the way of reason to pursue those things about God which human reason is able to investigate, the first object that offers itself to our consideration consists in those things which pertain to God in himself; the second¹ will be the procession of creatures from him; and the third² the relation of creatures to him as their end.

Of those things which we need to consider about God in himself, we must give the first place, as to the necessary foundation of this whole work, to the question of demonstrating that there is a God. If this is not established, the entire consideration of divine things is taken away.

God’s existence

It may seem useless to some to endeavor to show that there is a God: they say that it is self-evident that God is, so that it is impossible to think the contrary, and thus it cannot be demonstrated that there is a God. The reasons for this view are as follow.

Those things are said to be self-evident which are known as soon as the terms are known; thus, as soon as it is known what is a whole, and what is a part, it is known that the whole is greater than its part. Now such is the statement “God is.” For by this word “God” we understand a thing than which a greater cannot be thought of. This is what a man conceives in his mind when he hears and understands this word “God”: so that God must already be at least in his mind. Nor can he be in the mind alone, for that which is both in the mind and in reality is greater than that which is in the mind only. And the very signification of the word shows that nothing is greater than God. Therefore, it follows that God’s existence is self-evident, since it is made clear from the very signification of the word.

Again. It is possible to think that there is a thing which cannot be thought not to exist, and such a thing is evidently greater than that which can be thought not to exist. Therefore, if God can be thought not to exist, it follows that something can be thought greater than God, and this is contrary to the signification of the term. Therefore, it remains that God’s existence is self-evident.

Further. Those propositions are most evident in which the selfsame thing is predicated of itself, such as: “man is man”; or in which the predicate is included in the definition of the subject, for instance: “man is an animal.” Now, as we shall show further on,¹ in God alone do we find that his being is his essence: so that the answer is the same to the question, “What is he?” as to the question, “Is he?” Accordingly, when we say, “God is,” the predicate is either identified with the subject, or at least is included in the definition of the subject. And thus it will be self-evident that God is.

Moreover. Things that are known naturally are self-evident, for it is not by a process of research that they become evident. Now it is naturally known that God is, since man’s desire tends naturally to God as his last end, as we shall show further on.¹ Therefore, it is self-evident that God is.

Again. That by which all things are known must be self-evident. Now God is such. For just as the light of the sun is the principle of all visual perception, so the divine light is the principle of all intellectual knowledge, because it is in it that the first and greatest intellectual light is found. Therefore, it must be self-evident that God is.

On account of these and similar arguments some are of the opinion that God’s existence is so self-evident that the mind cannot think the contrary.

Refutation of the foregoing opinion and solution of the aforesaid arguments

The foregoing opinion arose from their being accustomed from the beginning to hear and call upon the name of God. Now custom, especially if it dates from our childhood, acquires the force of nature, from which it happens that the mind holds those things with which it was imbued from childhood as firmly as though they were self-evident.

It is also a result of failing to distinguish between what is self-evident simply, and that which is self-evident to us. For it is simply self-evident that God is, because God’s essence is his existence. But since we are unable to conceive mentally what God is, it remains unknown in regard to us. Thus it is self-evident simply that every whole is greater than its part, but to one who fails to conceive mentally the meaning of a whole, it must be unknown. And so it happens that those things which are most evident of all are to the intellect what the sun is to the eye of an owl, as stated in the Metaphysics.¹

Nor does it follow, as the first argument alleged, that as soon as the meaning of the word “God” is understood, it is known that God is. First, because it is not known to all, even to those who grant that there is a God, that God is that thing than which no greater can be thought of, since many of the ancients asserted that this world is God. Nor can any such conclusion be gathered from the significations which Damascene assigns to this word “God.”¹ Second, even granted that everyone understands this word “God” to signify something than which a greater cannot be thought of, it does not follow that something than which a greater cannot be thought of exists in reality. For we must allege a thing in the same way as we allege the signification of its name.

Now from the fact that we conceive mentally that which the word “God” is intended to convey, it does not follow that God is otherwise than in the mind. Therefore, neither will it follow that the thing than which a greater cannot be thought of is otherwise than in the mind. And thence it does not follow that there exists in reality something than which a greater cannot be thought of. Hence this is no argument against those who assert that there is no God, since there is nothing to prevent a person from thinking of something greater than whatever is granted to exist either in reality or in the mind, unless he grants that there is in reality something than which a greater cannot be thought of.

Nor does it follow, as the second argument pretended, that if it is possible to think that God is not, it is possible to think of something greater than God. For the possibility of thinking that he does not exist is not on account of the imperfection of his being, or the uncertainty of it—since in itself his being is supremely manifest—but is the result of the weakness of our mind, which is able to see him only in his effects and not in himself, so that it is led by reasoning to know that he is.

From this the third argument is also solved. For just as it is self-evident to us that a whole is greater than its part, so is it most evident to those who see the very essence of God that God exists, since his essence is his existence. But because we are unable to see his essence, we come to know his existence not in himself, but in his effects.

The solution to the fourth argument is also clear. For man knows God naturally in the same way as he desires him naturally. Now man desires him naturally insofar as he naturally desires happiness, which is a likeness of the divine goodness. Hence it does not follow that God considered in himself is naturally known to man, but that his likeness is. Therefore, man must come by reasoning to know God in the likenesses to him which he discovers in God’s effects.

It is also easy to reply to the fifth argument. For God is that in which all things are known, not so that other things are unknown unless he is known, as happens in self-evident principles, but because all knowledge is caused in us by his outpouring.

The position that we have taken is also assailed by the opinion of certain others, by which the efforts of those who endeavor to prove that there is a God would again be rendered futile. For they say that it is impossible by means of the reason to discover that God exists, and that this knowledge is acquired solely by means of faith and revelation.

In making this assertion some were moved by the weakness of the arguments which certain people employed to prove the existence of God.

Possibly, however, this error might falsely seek support from the statements of certain philosophers, who show that in God essence and existence are the same, namely, that which answers to the question, “What is he?” and that which answers to the question, “Is he?” Now it is impossible by the process of reason to acquire the knowledge of what God is. Therefore, it seems likewise impossible to prove by reason whether God is.

Again. If, as required by the system of the Philosopher¹ in order to prove whether a thing is we must take as principle the signification of its name, and since according to the Philosopher, the signification of a name is its definition² there will remain no means of proving the existence of God, seeing that we lack knowledge of the divine essence or quiddity.

Again. If the principles of demonstration become known to us originally through the senses, as is proved in the Posterior Analytics 1.18, those things which transcend all sense and sensible objects are seemingly indemonstrable. Now such is the existence of God. Therefore, it cannot be demonstrated.

The falseness of this opinion is shown to us first by the art of demonstration, which teaches us to conclude causes from effects. Second, by the order itself of sciences: for if no substance above sensible substance can be an object of science, there will be no science above physics, as stated in the Metaphysics.¹ Third, by the efforts of the philosophers who have endeavored to prove the existence of God. Fourth, by the apostolic truth, which asserts that the invisible things of God are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made (Rom 1:20).

Nor should we be moved by the consideration that in God essence and existence are the same, as the first argument contended. For this is to be understood of the existence by which God subsists in himself, of which we are ignorant as to what kind of a thing it is, even as we are ignorant of his essence. But it is not to be understood of that existence which is signified by the composition of the mind. For in this way it is possible to prove the existence of God, when our mind is led by demonstrative arguments to form a proposition stating that God is.

Now, in those arguments by which we prove the existence of God, it is not necessary that the divine essence or quiddity be employed as the middle term, as the second argument supposed, but instead of the quiddity we take his effects as middle term, as is the case in a posteriori reasoning. From these effects we take the signification of this word “God.” For all the divine names are taken either from the remoteness of God’s effects from himself, or from some relationship between God and his effects.

It is also evident from the fact that, although God transcends all sensibles and senses, his effects, from which we take the proof that God exists, are sensible objects. Hence our knowledge, even of things which transcend the senses, originates from the senses.

Arguments in proof of God’s existence

Having shown, then, that endeavoring to prove the existence of God is not futile, we may proceed to set forth the reasons by which both philosophers and Catholic doctors have proved that there is a God.

In the first place, we shall give the arguments by which Aristotle sets out to prove God’s existence. He aims at proving this from movement in two ways.

The first way is as follows (Physics 7.1). Whatever is in motion is moved by another. Now, it is clear to the sense that something is in motion, e.g., the sun. Therefore, it is in motion by something else moving it. Now that which moves it is itself either moved or not. If it is not moved, then the point is proved that we must postulate an immovable mover, and this we call God. If, however, it be moved, it is moved by another mover. Either, therefore, we must proceed to infinity, or we must come to an immovable mover. But it is not possible to proceed to infinity. Therefore, it is necessary to postulate an immovable mover.

This argument contains two propositions that need to be proved, namely, that whatever is in motion is moved by another, and that it is not possible to proceed to infinity in movers and things moved.

The first of these is proved by the Philosopher in three ways. First, thus. If a thing moves itself, it must have the principle of its movement in itself; otherwise, it would clearly be moved by another. It also must be moved primarily, that is, it must be moved by reason of itself and not by reason of its part (as an animal is moved by the movement of its foot). For in the latter way not the whole but the part would be moved by itself, and one part by another. It also must be divisible and have parts, since whatever is moved is divisible, as is proved in Physics 6.4.

These things being supposed, he argues as follows. That which is stated to be moved by itself is moved primarily. Therefore, if one of its parts is at rest, it follows that the whole is at rest. For if, while one part is at rest, another of its parts were in motion, the whole itself would not be moved primarily, but its part which is in motion while another is at rest. Now nothing that is at rest while another is at rest is moved by itself: for that which is at rest as a result of another thing being at rest must be in motion as a result of the other’s motion. And hence it is not moved by itself. Hence that which was stated to be moved by itself is not moved by itself. Therefore, whatever is in motion must be moved by another.

Nor is this argument negated by what might be said: supposing a thing moves itself, it is impossible for a part of it to be at rest. Nor again by the statement that to be at rest or in motion does not belong to a part except accidentally, as Avicenna quibbles.¹ For the force of the argument lies in this, that if a thing moves itself primarily and of itself, not by reason of its parts, it follows that its being moved does not depend on anything; whereas with a divisible thing, being moved depends on its parts, as does its existence, so that it cannot move itself primarily and of itself. Therefore, the truth of the conclusion drawn does not require that we suppose as an absolute truth that a part of that which moves itself is at rest, but that this conditional statement be true: if a part were at rest, the whole would be at rest. Which statement can be true even if the antecedent be false, even as this conditional proposition is true: if a man is an ass, then he is irrational.

Second, he proves it by induction in this way (Physics 8.4). A thing is not moved by itself if it is moved accidentally, since its motion is occasioned by the motion of something else. Nor again if it is moved by force, as is manifest. Nor if it is moved by its nature, like those things whose movement proceeds from themselves, such as animals, which clearly are moved by their souls. Nor if it is moved by nature, as heavy and light things are, since these are moved by their generating cause and by that which removes the obstacle to their movement. Now, all things that are in motion are moved either in themselves or accidentally; and if in themselves, either by force or by nature; and if the latter, either by something in them, as in the case of animals, or not by something in them, as in the case of heavy and light bodies. Therefore, whatever is in motion is moved by another.

Third,¹ he proves his point thus. Nothing is at the same time in act and in potency in respect of the same thing. Now whatever is in motion, as such, is in potency, because motion is the act of that which is in potency, as such.² In contrast, whatever moves, as such, is in act, for nothing acts except insofar as it is in act. Therefore, nothing is both mover and moved in respect of the same movement. Hence nothing moves itself.

We must observe, however, that Plato (Phaedrus 24). who asserted that every mover is moved, employed the term “movement” in a more general sense than Aristotle. For Aristotle took movement in its strict sense, for the act of a thing that is in potency as such, in which sense it applies only to divisible things and bodies, as is proved in Physics 6. But, according to Plato, that which moves itself is not a body: for he took movement for any operation, so that to understand or to think is a kind of movement, to which manner of speaking Aristotle alludes in On the Soul 3.7. In this sense, then, he said that the first mover moves itself, inasmuch as it understands, desires, and loves itself. This, in a certain respect, is not in contradiction with the arguments of Aristotle; for it makes no difference whether with Plato we come to a first mover that moves itself, or with Aristotle to something first which is altogether immovable.

He proves the other proposition (namely, that it is impossible to proceed to infinity in movers and things moved) by three arguments.

The first (Physics 7) of these is as follows. If one were to proceed to infinity in movers and things moved, all this infinite number of things would necessarily be bodies, since whatever is moved is divisible and corporeal, as is proved in Physics 6. Now every body that moves through being moved is moved at the same time as it moves. Therefore, all this infinite number of things are moved at the same time as one of them is moved. But one of them, since it is finite, is moved in a finite time. Therefore, all this infinite number of things are moved in a finite time. But this is impossible. Therefore, it is impossible to proceed to infinity in movers and things moved.

That it is impossible for the aforesaid infinite number of things to be moved in a finite time, he proves thus.¹ Mover and moved must be simultaneous, as he proves by induction from each species of movement. But bodies cannot be simultaneous except by continuity or contact. Therefore, since all the aforesaid movers and things moved are bodies, as proved, they must be as one movable thing through their continuity or contact. And thus one infinite thing would be moved in a finite time, which is shown to be impossible in Physics 6.7.

The second argument (Physics 8.5) in proof of the same statement is as follows. In an ordinate series of movers and things moved—namely, where throughout the series one is moved by the other—we must find that if the first mover be taken away or cease to move, none of the others will move or be moved, because the first is the cause of movement in all the others. Now if an ordinate series of movers and things moved proceed to infinity, there will be no first mover, but all will be like intermediate movers. Therefore, it will be impossible for any of them to be moved: and thus nothing in the world will be moved.

The third argument (Physics 8.5) amounts to the same, except that it proceeds in the reverse order, namely, by beginning from above. It is as follows. That which moves instrumentally cannot move unless there be something that moves principally. But if we proceed to infinity in movers and things moved, they will all be like instrumental movers, because they will be alleged to be moved movers, and there will be nothing by way of principal mover. Therefore, nothing will be moved.

We have thus clearly proved both statements which were supposed in the first process of demonstration by which Aristotle proved the existence of a first immovable mover.

The second way (Physics 8.5) is as follows. If every mover is moved, this statement is true either in itself or accidentally. If accidentally, it follows that it is not necessary: for that which is accidentally true is not necessary. Therefore, it is a contingent proposition that no mover is moved. But if a mover be not moved, it does not move, as the opponent asserts. Therefore, it is contingent that nothing is moved, since, if nothing moves, nothing is moved. Now Aristotle holds this to be impossible (Physics 8.1), namely, that at any time there be no movement. Therefore, the first proposition was not contingent, because a false impossibility does not follow from a false contingency. And therefore this proposition, “every mover is moved by another,” was not accidentally true.

Again, if any two things are found accidentally united in a certain subject, and one of them is to be found without the other, it is probable that the latter can be found without the former: thus if “white” and “musical” are found in Socrates, and “musical” without “white” is found in Plato, it is probable that “white” could be found without “musical” in some subject. Accordingly, if mover and moved be united together in some subject accidentally, and it be found that a certain thing is moved without its being a mover, it is probable that a mover is to be found that is not moved. Nor can one urge against this the case of two things, one of which depends on the other; because those in question are united not per se but accidentally.

If, however, the aforesaid proposition is true in itself, again there follows something impossible or unfitting. For the mover must be moved either by the same kind of movement or by another kind. If by the same kind, it follows that whatever causes alteration must itself be altered, and furthermore that the healer must be healed, that the teacher must be taught, and in respect of the same science. But this is impossible: for the teacher must have science, while the learner must not have it, and thus one thing will be both possessed and not possessed by the same person, which is impossible. And if it be moved by another kind of movement—namely, so that what causes alteration be moved in respect of place, and that which moves in respect of place be increased, and so on—it will follow that we cannot go on indefinitely, since the genera and species of movement are finite in number. And thus there will be some first mover that is not moved by another. Unless someone happens to say that a recurrence takes place in this way: when all the genera and species of movement have been exhausted, a return must be made to the first. For instance, if that which moves in respect of place be altered, and that which causes alteration be increased, then again that which is increased be moved in respect of place. But the consequence of this will be the same as before, namely, that which moves by one kind of movement is itself moved by the same kind, although mediately and not immediately.

It remains, therefore, that we must postulate some first mover that is not moved by anything outside itself.

Since, however, it does not follow that a first mover that is not moved by anything outside itself is absolutely immovable, Aristotle proceeds further, saying that this may happen in two ways. First, so that this first mover is absolutely immovable. And if this is granted, our point is established, namely, that there is a first immovable mover. Second, that this first mover is moved by itself. And this seems probable, because what is of itself is always prior to what is of another. Hence it is likewise logical in things moved that what is moved first is moved by itself and not by another.

But, if this be granted, the same consequence follows (Physics 8). For it cannot be said that the whole of what moves itself is moved by its whole self, because then the absurd consequences mentioned above would follow, namely, that a person might teach and be taught at the same time, and in like manner as to other kinds of movement. And again, a thing would be at the same time in act and in potency, since a mover, as such, is in act, while that which is moved is in potency. It remains, therefore, that one part thereof is mover only, and the other part moved. And thus we have the same conclusion as before, namely, that there is something that moves and is itself immovable.

And it cannot be said that both parts are moved, so that one is moved by the other; nor that one part moves both itself and the other; nor that the whole moves a part; nor that part moves the whole, since the above absurdities would follow—namely, that something would both move and be moved by the same kind of movement, and that it would be at the same time in potency and in act, and (finally) that the whole would move itself not primarily, but by reason of its part. It remains, therefore, that in whatever moves itself, one part must be immovable, and must move the other part.

Since, however, in those things among us which move themselves (namely, animals), the part which moves (namely, the soul), though immovable of itself, is nevertheless moved accidentally, he goes on to show that in the first mover, the part which moves is not moved neither of itself nor accidentally (Physics 8.6).

For in those things which among us move themselves (namely animals), the part which moves is moved accidentally since they are corruptible. Now those corruptible things which move themselves must be reducible to some first self-mover that is everlasting. Therefore, that which moves itself must have a mover, which is moved neither of itself nor accidentally.

It is clear that, in accordance with his hypothesis, some self-mover must be everlasting. For if, as he supposes, movement is everlasting, the production of these self-movers that are subject to generation and corruption must be everlasting. But no one of these self-movers, since it does not always exist, can be the cause of this everlastingness. Nor can all of them together, both because they would be infinite and because they do not exist all together. It follows, therefore, that there must be an everlasting self-mover, that causes the everlastingness of generation in these lower self-movers. And thus its mover is not moved, neither of itself nor accidentally.

Again, we observe that in self-movers some begin to be moved anew on account of some movement whereby the animal is not moved by itself, for instance, by the digestion of food or a change in the atmosphere. By this movement, the mover that moves itself is moved accidentally. From this, we may gather that no self-mover whose mover is moved essentially or accidentally is always moved. But the first self-mover is always in motion, else movement could not be everlasting, since every other movement is caused by the movement of the first self-mover. It follows, therefore, that the first self-mover is moved by a mover who is not moved, neither essentially nor accidentally.

Nor is this argument rebutted by the fact that the movers of the lower spheres cause an everlasting movement, and yet are said to be moved accidentally. For they are said to be moved accidentally not by reason of themselves, but by reason of the things subject to their motion, which follow the motion of the higher sphere.

Since, however, God is not part of a self-mover, Aristotle goes on in the Metaphysics¹ to trace from this motor that is part of a self-mover, another mover altogether separate, which is God. For, since every self-mover is moved through its appetite, it follows that the motor which is part of a self-mover moves on account of the appetite for some appetible object. And this object is above the motor in moving, because the one desiring is a moved mover, whereas the appetible is a mover altogether unmoved. Therefore, there must be a first mover separate and altogether immovable, and this is God.

Now two things would seem to weaken the above arguments. The first of these is that they proceed from the supposition of the eternity of movement, and among Catholics this is supposed to be false.

To this we reply that the most effective way to prove God’s existence is from the supposition of the eternity of the world: when this is supposed, God’s existence seems less manifest. For if the world and movement had a beginning, it is clear that we must suppose some cause to have produced the world and movement, because whatever becomes anew must take its origin from some cause of its becoming, since nothing evolves itself from potency to act, or from non-being to being.

The second is that the aforesaid arguments suppose that the first moved thing, namely, the heavenly body, has its motive principle in itself, from which it follows that it is animated. Many do not grant this.

To this we reply that if the first mover is not supposed to have its motive principle in itself, it follows that it is immediately moved by something altogether immovable. Hence also Aristotle draws this conclusion with an alternative, namely, that either we must come at once to a first mover immovable and separate, or to a self-mover from which again we come to a first mover immovable and separate.¹

The Philosopher proceeds in a different way in Metaphysics 2 to show that it is impossible to proceed to infinity in efficient causes,¹ but that we must come to one first cause: and this we call God. This is how he proceeds. In all efficient causes following in order, the first is the cause of the intermediate cause, and the intermediate is the cause of the ultimate, whether the intermediate be one or several. Now if the cause be removed, that which it causes is removed. Therefore, if we remove the first, the intermediate cannot be a cause. But if we go on to infinity in efficient causes, no cause will be first. Therefore, all the others which are intermediate will be removed. Now this is clearly false. Therefore, we must suppose the existence of a first efficient cause: and this is God.

Another reason can be drawn from the words of Aristotle. For in the Metaphysics,¹ he shows that those things which excel as true excel as beings, and he shows in book 4² that there is something supremely true because we see that of two false things one is falser than the other, from which it follows that one is also truer than the other. Now this is by its approximation to that which is simply and supremely true. Therefore, we may further conclude that there is something that is supremely being. And this we call God.

Another argument in support of this conclusion is adduced by Damascene (On the Orthodox Faith 1.3) from the government of things, and the same reasoning is indicated by the Commentator in Physics 2.¹ It runs as follows. It is impossible for contrary and discordant things to accord in one order always or frequently except by someone’s governance, through which each and all are made to tend to a definite end. Now we see that in the world things of different natures accord in one order, not seldom and fortuitously, but always or for the most part. Therefore, it follows that there is someone by whose providence the world is governed. And this we call God.

That to acquire knowledge of God one must use the way of remotion

Accordingly, having proved that there is a first being which we call God, we must inquire into his nature.

Now in treating of the divine essence the principal method to be followed is that of remotion. For the divine essence by its immensity surpasses every form to which our intellect reaches; and thus we cannot apprehend it by knowing what it is. But we have some knowledge of it by knowing what it is not, and we come closer to the knowledge of it insofar as we can remove a greater number of things from it by our intellect. For the more completely we see how a thing differs from others, the more perfectly we know it, since each thing has in itself its own being distinct from all other things. Thus, when we know the definition of a thing, first we place it in a genus, by which we know in general what it is, and afterwards we add differences to mark its distinction from other things, and thus we arrive at the complete knowledge of a thing’s essence.

Since, however, we are unable in treating of the divine essence to take “what” as a genus, nor can we express its distinction from other things by affirmative differences, we must express it by negative differences. Now, just as in affirmative differences one restricts another, and brings us the nearer to a complete description of the thing according as it makes it differ from more things, so one negative difference is restricted by another that marks a distinction from more things. Thus, if we say that God is not an accident, we thereby distinguish him from all accidents; then if we add that he is not a body, we shall distinguish him also from certain substances, and thus in gradation he will be differentiated by suchlike negations from all beside himself. And then, when he is known as distinct from all things, we shall arrive at a proper consideration of him. It will not, however, be perfect, because we shall not know what he is in himself.

Therefore, in order to proceed by the way of remotion about the knowledge of God, let us take as principle that which is already made manifest by what we have said above,¹ namely, that God is altogether unchangeable. This is also confirmed by the authority of Sacred Scripture. For it is said: I am God² and I do not change (Mal 3:6); with whom there is no change (Jas 1:17); and: God is not as a man that he should be changed (Num 23:19).

The divine nature

That God is eternal

From the foregoing it is also clear that God is eternal.

For whatever begins or ceases to be suffers this through movement or change. Now it has been shown¹ that God is altogether unchangeable. Therefore, he is eternal, having neither beginning nor end.

Again. Only things which are moved are measured by time, because time is the measure of movement, as is clear in the Physics.¹ Now God is absolutely without movement, as we have already proved.² Therefore, we cannot mark before and after in him. Therefore, in him there is not being after non-being, nor can he have non-being after being, nor is it possible to find any succession in his being, because these things cannot be understood apart from time. Therefore, he is without beginning and end, and has all his being simultaneously, and in this consists the notion of eternity.³

Moreover. If at any time he was not and afterwards was, he was brought by someone out of non-being into being. Not by himself, because what is not cannot do anything. And if by another, this other is prior to him. Now it has been shown¹ that God is the first cause. Therefore, he did not begin to be. Therefore, neither will he cease to be, because that which always was has the power to always be. Therefore, he is eternal.

Furthermore. We observe that in the world there are certain things which can be and not be, namely, those that are subject to generation and corruption. Now all that can possibly be has a cause: for, since in itself it is equally related to two things (namely, being and not being), it follows that if it acquires being this is the result of some cause. But, as proved above¹ by Aristotle’s argument, we cannot go on to infinity in causes. Therefore, we must suppose something with necessary existence. Now every necessary thing either has a cause of its necessity from without, or has no such cause, but is necessary of itself. But we cannot go on to infinity in necessary things that have causes of their necessity from without. Therefore, we must suppose some first necessary thing which is necessary of itself: and this is God, since he is the first cause, as proved above.² Therefore, God is eternal, since whatever is necessary of itself is eternal.

Again. Aristotle proves the everlastingness of movement from the everlastingness of time.¹ And from this, he goes on to prove the everlastingness of the substance that is the cause of movement.² Now the first moving substance is God. Therefore, he is everlasting. And supposing the everlastingness of time and movement to be denied, there still remains the argument in proof of the everlastingness of substance. For if movement had a beginning, it must have had its beginning from some mover. And if this mover had a beginning, it had its beginning from some agent. And thus either we shall go on to infinity, or we shall come to something without a beginning.

Divine authority bears witness to this truth. Thus the Psalm reads: but you, O Lord, endure forever (Ps 101:13), and again: but you are always the selfsame, and your years shall not fail (Ps 101:28).

That in God there is no passive potency

Now if God is eternal, it follows of necessity that he is not in potency.

For everything in whose substance there is an admixture of potency is possibly nonexistent as regards whatever it has of potency, for that which may possibly be may possibly not be. Now God in himself cannot not be, since he is eternal. Therefore, in God there is no potency to be.

Again. Although that which is sometimes potential and sometimes actual, is in point of time potential before being actual, nevertheless act is simply before potency, because potency does not bring itself into act, but needs to be brought into act by something actual. Therefore, whatever is in any way potential has something previous to it. Now God is the first being and the first cause, as stated above.¹ Therefore, in him there is no admixture of potency.

Again. That which of itself must necessarily exist can in no way have possible existence, since whatever of itself must necessarily exist has no cause, whereas whatever has possible existence has a cause, as proved above.¹ Now God, in himself, must necessarily exist. Therefore, he can in no way have possible existence. Therefore, no potency is to be found in his essence.

Again. Everything acts according as it is actual. Therefore, that which is not wholly actual acts not by its whole self, but by part of itself. Now that which does not act by its whole self is not the first agent, since it acts by participation of something and not by its essence. Therefore, the first agent, which is God, has no admixture of potency, but is pure act.

Moreover. Just as a thing is naturally apt to act insofar as it is actual, so is it natural for it to be passive insofar as it is in potency, for movement is the act of that which is in potency.¹ Now God is altogether impassible and immovable, as stated above.² Therefore, in him there is no potency, namely that which is passive.

Further. We notice in the world something that passes from potency to act. Now it does not reduce itself from potency to act, because that which is potential is not yet; hence, neither can it act. Therefore, it must be preceded by something else by which it can be brought from potency to act. And if this again passes from potency to act, it must be preceded by something else, by which it can be brought from potency to act. But we cannot go on thus to infinity. Therefore, we must come to something that is wholly actual and in no way potential. And this we call God.

That in God there is no matter

From this it follows that God is not matter. For matter, such as it is, is in potency.

Again. Matter is not a principle of activity. Hence, as the Philosopher puts it, efficient and material causes do not coincide.¹ Now, as stated above,² it belongs to God to be the first efficient cause of things. Therefore, he is not matter.

Moreover. For those who referred all things to matter as their first cause, it followed that natural things exist by chance, and against these it is argued in Physics 2.8–9. Therefore, if God, who is the first cause, is the material cause of things, it follows that all things exist by chance.

Further. Matter does not become the cause of an actual thing except by being altered and changed. Therefore, if God is immovable, as proved above,¹ he can in no way be a cause of things as their matter.

The Catholic faith professes this truth, asserting that God created all things not out of his substance, but out of nothing.

The ravings of David of Dinant are confounded by this, who dared to assert that God is the same as prime matter, because if they were not the same, they would need to differ by certain differences, and thus they would not be simple, since in that which differs from another thing by a difference, the very difference argues composition.

Now this proceeded from his ignorance of the distinction between difference and diversity. For a thing is said to be different in relation to something, as is said in the Metaphysics,¹ because whatever is different differs by something, whereas things are said to be diverse absolutely from the fact that they are not the same thing.² Accordingly, we must seek for a difference in things which have something in common, for we have to point to something in them whereby they differ: thus two species have a common genus from which they must be distinguished by differences. But in those things which have nothing in common, we do not have to look for their differences, for they are diverse by themselves. For thus are opposite differences distinguished from one another, because they do not participate in a genus as a part of their essence. Consequently, we must not ask in what they differ, for they are diversified by their very selves. Thus too God and prime matter are distinguished, since they have nothing in common, the one being pure act and the other pure potency.

That in God there is no composition

From the foregoing we are able to conclude that there is no composition in God.

For in every composite thing there must be act and potency, since several things cannot become one simply, unless there be something actual there and something else potential. For those things that are in act are not united except as an assemblage or group, which are not one simply. Also, in these the very parts that are gathered together are as a potency with respect to the union: for they are actually united after being potentially unitable. But in God there is no potency.¹ Therefore, in him there is no composition.

Again. Every composite comes after its components. Therefore, the first being, which is God,¹ has no component parts.

Further. Every composite is potentially dissoluble, so far as its composite nature is concerned, although in some there is something else incompatible with dissolution. Now that which is dissoluble is in potency to non-being. But this cannot be said of God, since he necessarily exists by his very essence. Therefore, there is no composition in him.

Moreover. Every composition requires a compounder, for if there is composition, it results from several things, and things that are several in themselves would not combine together unless they were united by a compounder. If, then, God were composite, he would have a compounder, for he could not compound himself, since no thing is its own cause, for it would precede itself, which is impossible. Now the compounder is the efficient cause of the composite. Therefore, God would have an efficient cause: and thus he would not be the first cause, which was proved above.¹

Again. In any genus, the more simple a thing is, the more excellent it is. For example, in the genus of hot things is fire, which has no admixture of cold. Therefore, whatever is the most noble of all things must be the height of simplicity. Now that which obtains the summit of nobility in things is what we call God, since he is the first cause, because the cause is more excellent than its effect. Therefore, there can be no composition in him.

Further. Before every multitude it is necessary to find unity. Now in every composite there is multitude. Therefore, that which is before all things, namely God, must be devoid of all composition.

That in God there is nothing violent or beside nature

Hence the Philosopher concludes that in God there cannot be anything violent or outside nature.¹

For whatever has in itself anything violent or beside nature has something added to itself, since that which belongs to a thing’s essence cannot be violent or beside nature. Now no simple thing has in itself anything that is added, for this would mean it is composite. Since, then, God is simple, as shown above,¹ there can be nothing in him that is violent or beside nature.

Further. The necessity of compulsion is a necessity imposed by another. But in God there is no necessity imposed by another, for he is necessary of himself, and the cause of necessity in other things.¹ Therefore, nothing is compulsory in him.

Moreover. Wherever there is violence, there can be something other than what belongs to a thing by its very nature, since violence is contrary to that which is according to nature. But it is not possible for anything to be in God that does not belong to him according to his nature, since by his very nature he exists necessarily, as shown above.¹ Therefore, there can be nothing violent in him.

Again. Everything that is compelled or unnatural is naturally apt to be moved by another, because that which is done by compulsion has an external principle, without any concurrence on the part of the patient.¹ Now God is altogether immovable, as shown above.² Therefore, nothing in him can be violent or unnatural.

That God is not a body

From the foregoing we are also able to prove that God is not a body.

For, since every body is a continuous substance, it is composite and has parts. Now God is not composite, as we have shown.¹ Therefore, he is not a body.

Again. If God were a body, he would have to be a physical body: for a mathematical body does not exist by itself, as the Philosopher proves (Metaphysics 2.5), since dimensions are accidents. Now, he is not a physical body: for he is immovable, as we have proved,¹ and every physical body is movable. Therefore, God is not a body.

Moreover. Every body is finite, which is proved in regard both to spherical and to rectilinear bodies in On Heaven and Earth 1.5. Now we are able by our intellect and imagination to soar above any finite body. Therefore, if God were a body, our intellect and imagination would be able to think of something greater than God, and thus God would not exceed our intellect, which is inadmissible. Therefore, he is not a body.

Furthermore. Intellective knowledge is more certain than sensitive. Now, among natural things we find some that are objects of sense; therefore, there are also some that are objects of intellect. But the order of powers is according to the order of objects, in the same way as their distinction. Therefore, above all sensible objects there is an intelligible object existing in natural things. But every body that exists among things is sensible. Therefore, above all bodies it is possible to find something more excellent. Therefore, if God were a body, he would not be the first and supreme being.

Moreover. We find the philosophers proving the same conclusion by arguments¹ based on the eternity of movement, as follows. In all everlasting movement, the first mover must not be moved neither essentially nor accidentally, as we have proved above.² Now, the body of the heavens is moved in a circle with an everlasting movement. Therefore, its first mover is not moved either essentially or accidentally. Now, no body causes local movement unless itself be moved, because moved and mover must be simultaneous; and thus the body that causes movement must be itself moved so it can be simultaneous with the body that is moved. Moreover, no power in a body causes movement unless it is moved accidentally, since, when the body is moved, the power of that body is moved accidentally. Therefore, the first mover of the heavens is neither a body nor a power residing in a body. Now, God is that to which the movement of the heavens is ultimately reduced as to the first immovable mover. Therefore, God is not a body.

Again. No infinite power is a power residing in a magnitude. But the power of the first mover is an infinite power. Therefore, it does not reside in a magnitude. And thus God, who is the first mover, is neither a body nor a power residing in a body.

The first proposition is proved as follows. If a power residing in a magnitude be infinite, this magnitude is either finite or infinite. But there is no infinite magnitude, as proved in Physics 3.5 and On Heaven and Earth 1.5. And it is not possible for a finite magnitude to have an infinite power. Therefore, in no magnitude can there be an infinite power.

That there cannot be an infinite power in a finite magnitude is proved thus. A great power produces in less time the same effect which a lesser power produces in more time, whatever kind this effect may be, whether of alteration, of local movement, or of any other kind of movement. Now, an infinite power surpasses every finite power. It follows, therefore, that it produces its effect more rapidly by causing a more rapid movement than any finite power. Nor can this greater rapidity be one of time. Therefore, it follows that the effect is produced in an indivisible point of time. And thus moving, being moved, and movement will be instantaneous, the contrary of which has been proved in Physics 6.3.

That an infinite power of a finite magnitude cannot cause movement in time is proved thus. Let A be an infinite power, and AB a part thereof. Therefore, this part will cause movement in more time. And yet there must be proportion between this time and the time in which the whole power causes movement, since both times are finite. Suppose, then, these two times to be in proportion as 1 to 10 (for it does not affect this argument whether we take this or any other ratio). Now, if we increase the aforesaid finite power, we must decrease the time in proportion to the increase of the power, since a greater power causes movement in less time. If, therefore, we increase it tenfold, that power will cause movement in a time which will be one-tenth of the time occupied by the first part that we took of the infinite power (namely, AB). And yet, this power which is ten times the aforesaid power is a finite power, since it has a fixed proportion to a finite power. It follows, therefore, that a finite power and an infinite power cause movement in an equal time, which is impossible. Therefore, an infinite power of a finite magnitude cannot cause movement in any time.

That the power of the first mover is infinite is proved thus. No finite power can cause movement in an infinite time. Now, the power of the first mover causes movement in an infinite time, since the first movement is eternal. Therefore, the power of the first mover is infinite. The first proposition is proved thus. If any finite power of a body causes movement in infinite time, a part of that body (having a part of that power) will cause movement during less time, since a thing will be able to continue a movement for a length of time proportionate to its power: and thus the aforesaid part will cause movement in finite time, and a greater part will be able to cause movement during more time. And so always: we increase the time in the same proportion as we increase the power of the mover. But if this increase be made a certain number of times we shall come to the quantity of the whole, or even go beyond it. Therefore, also the increase on the part of the time will reach the quantity of time in which the whole causes movement. And yet the time in which the whole causes movement was supposed to be infinite. Consequently, a finite time will measure an infinite time, which is impossible.

One of these is that it could be held that the body which moves the first thing moved is not divisible, as is the case of a heavenly body. But the argument given above supposes it to be divided.

To this we reply that a conditional clause may be true even if its antecedent is impossible. And if there is anything to disprove such a conditional, the antecedent is impossible. For example, if anyone disprove this conditional: “If a man flies, he has wings,” the antecedent would be impossible. It is in this way that we are to understand the process of the aforesaid reasoning. For this conditional is true: “If a heavenly body be divided, its part will have less power than the whole.” But this conditional is disproved if we suppose that the first mover is a body, on account of the impossibilities that follow. Therefore, it is clear that this is impossible. We can reply in the same way if there is an objection to the increase of finite powers. For it is impossible in natural things to find powers according to any proportion that there is between one time and any other time. And yet the conditional required in the aforesaid argument is true.

The second objection is that, even if a body is divided, it is possible for a power of a body not to be divided when the body is divided: for example, the rational soul is not divided when the body is divided.

To this we reply that by the above argument it is not proved that God is not united to the body as the rational soul is united to the human body, but that he is not a power residing in a body like a material power, which is divided when the body is divided. Therefore, it is also said of the human intellect that it is neither a body nor a power in a body (see bk. II, ch. 56). That God is not united to the body as its soul is another question (see ch. 27).

The third objection is that if the power of every body is finite (as is proved in the above process), and if a finite power cannot make its effect to endure an infinite time, it will follow that no body can endure an infinite time, and consequently that a heavenly body will be necessarily corrupted.

Some reply to this that a heavenly body in respect of its own power is defectible, but acquires everlastingness from another that has infinite power. Apparently Plato (Timaeus 41) approves of this solution, for he represents God as speaking of the heavenly bodies as follows: by your nature you are corruptible, but by my will incorruptible, because my will is greater than your necessity.

But the Commentator refutes this solution in Metaphysics 11.¹ For it is impossible, according to him, that what in itself may possibly not be, should acquire everlastingness of being from another, since it would follow that the corruptible is changed into incorruptibility. And this, in his opinion, is impossible. Therefore, he replies after this fashion: in a heavenly body whatever power there is, is finite, and yet it does not follow that it has all power; for, according to Aristotle, in the Metaphysics,² the potency to be somewhere is in a heavenly body, but not the potency to be. And thus it does not follow that it has a potency to not be.

It must be observed, however, that this reply of the Commentator is insufficient. Because, even if it is granted that in a heavenly body there is no quasi-potency to be (which potency is that of matter), there is nevertheless in it a quasi-active potency, which is the power of being, since Aristotle says explicitly in On Heaven and Earth¹ that the heaven has the power to be always.

Hence it is better to reply that, since power implies relation to act, we should judge of power according to the mode of the act. Now movement by its very nature has quantity and extension. Hence its infinite duration requires that the moving power should be infinite. On the other hand, being has no quantitative extension, especially in a thing whose being is invariable, such as the heaven. Hence it does not follow that the power of being a finite body is infinite though its duration be infinite, because it matters not whether that power make a thing to last for an instant or for an infinite time, since that invariable being is not affected by time except accidentally.

The fourth objection is that the statement “that what causes movement in infinite time must have an infinite power’, does not necessarily apply to those movers which are not altered by moving. For such a movement consumes nothing of their power; therefore, they can cause movement for no less time after they have moved for a certain time than before. Thus the power of the sun is finite, and, because its power is not diminished on account of its action, it can act on this lower world for an infinite time, according to nature.

To this we reply that a body does not move unless it is moved, as we have shown. Therefore, supposing a body not to be moved, it follows that it does not move. Now in anything that is moved there is potency to opposites, since the terms of movement are opposite to one another. Consequently, considered in itself, every body that is moved is possibly not moved. And that which is possibly not moved is not able of itself to be moved for an everlasting time, and consequently neither is it apt to move for a perpetual time.

Accordingly, the demonstration given above is based on the finite power of a finite body, which power cannot of itself move in an infinite time. But a body which of itself is possibly moved and not moved, and possibly moves and does not move, can acquire perpetual movement from some cause; and this cause must be incorporeal. Thus the first mover must be incorporeal. Hence, according to nature, nothing hinders a finite body, which acquires from another cause perpetuity in being moved, from having also perpetuity in moving: for likewise the first heavenly body, according to nature, can cause a perpetual circular movement in the lower bodies, according as one sphere moves another.

Nor is it impossible for that which is of itself in potency to being moved and not moved to acquire perpetual movement from something else, as the Commentator supposed it impossible as regards perpetuity of being. For movement is a kind of outflow from the mover to the thing movable, and consequently a movable thing can acquire perpetual movement from something else without having it by nature. On the other hand, “to be” is something fixed and resting in a being, and consequently that which is of itself in potency to not be, cannot, as he says, in the course of nature acquire from something else perpetuity of being.

The fifth objection is that, according to the above reasoning, there does not appear to be more reason why there should not be an infinite power in a magnitude than outside a magnitude: for in either case it would follow that it moves in non-time.

To this it may be replied that finite and infinite are found in a magnitude, in time, and in movement in a univocal sense, as proved in the Physics:¹ hence the infinite in one of them removes a finite proportion in the others. But in things lacking magnitude there is neither finite nor infinite, unless equivocally. Hence the above course of reasoning has no place in such powers.

But another and better answer is that the heaven has two movers.¹ One is its proximate mover, which is of finite power, and from this its movement is of finite velocity. The other is its remote mover, which is of infinite power, from which its movement can be of infinite duration. Thus it is clear that an infinite power which is not in a magnitude can move a body not immediately in time, whereas a power which is in a magnitude must move immediately, since no body moves without itself being moved. Therefore, if it moved, it would follow that it moves in non-time.

Better still, it may be replied that a power which is not in a magnitude is an intellect, and moves by its will. Hence it moves according to the requirement of the movable and not according to the proportion of its strength. On the other hand, a power that is in a magnitude cannot move save by natural necessity, for it has been proved that the intellect is not a bodily force. Therefore, it causes movement necessarily, according to the proportion of its quantity. Hence it follows that if it moves anything it moves it instantaneously.

In this sense, then, the foregoing objections being refuted, the reasoning of Aristotle follows.

Moreover. No movement that proceeds from a bodily mover can be continuous and regular, because a bodily mover, in local movement, moves by attraction or repulsion, and that which is attracted or repelled is not disposed in the same way towards its mover from the beginning to the end of the movement, since at one time it is nearer to it and at another time further from it. And thus no body can cause a continuous and regular movement. On the other hand, the first movement is continuous and regular, as is proved in Physics 8.7. Therefore, the mover of the first movement is not a body.

Again. No movement that tends towards an end which passes from potency to act can be perpetual, since, when it arrives at act, the movement ceases. If, therefore, the first movement is perpetual, it must be towards an end which is always and in every way actual. Now such is neither a body nor a power residing in a body, because these are all movable either essentially or accidentally. Therefore, the end of the first movement is not a body nor a power residing in a body. Now the end of the first movement is the first mover, which moves as the object of desire.¹ And that is God. Therefore, God is neither a body nor a power residing in a body.

Now though, according to our faith, it is false that the movement of the heavens is everlasting, as we shall show further on,¹ it is nevertheless true that that movement will not cease, either on account of lack of power in the mover, or on account of the substance of the movable being corrupted, since we do not find that the movement of the heavens slackens in the course of time. Hence the aforesaid proofs lose nothing of their efficacy.

The truth thus demonstrated concords with divine authority. For it is said: God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth (John 4:24); and again: to the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God (1 Tim 1:17); and: the invisible things of God are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made (Rom 1:20). For things that are clearly seen not by the eye but by the mind are incorporeal.

Hereby is refuted the error of the early natural philosophers,¹ who admitted none but material causes, such as fire, water, and the like, and consequently asserted that the first principles of things were bodies, and called them gods.

Among these also there were some who held that the causes of movement were friendship and strife, and these again are refuted by the above arguments. For, since according to them friendship and strife are in bodies, it would follow that the first principles of movement are forces residing in a body.

They also asserted that God was composed of the four elements and friendship, from which we gather that they held God to be a heavenly body.

Among the ancients Anaxagoras alone came near to the truth, since he affirmed that all things are moved by an intellect.

By this truth, moreover, those heathens are refuted who maintained that the very elements of the world, and the forces residing in them, are gods (such as the sun, moon, earth, water and so forth), being led astray by the errors of the philosophers mentioned above.

Again, the above arguments confound the nonsense of the unlettered Jews, of Tertullian, of the Vadiani or Anthropomorphite heretics, who depicted God with human features; and again of the Manicheans who affirmed God to be an infinite substance composed of light and spread abroad throughout boundless space.

The occasion of all these errors was that in their thoughts about divine things they had recourse to their imagination, which can reflect none but corporeal likenesses. And thus we must put the imagination aside when we meditate on things incorporeal.

That God is his own essence

From what precedes we can conclude that God is his own essence, quiddity, or nature.

In everything which is not its own essence or quiddity there must be some kind of composition: for, since each thing contains its own essence, if a thing contained nothing besides its own essence, all that a thing is would be its essence. Therefore, if a thing is not its own essence, there must be something in it besides its essence. Consequently, there must be composition in it. For which reason the essence in composite things has the signification of a part, as humanity in a man. Now, it has been shown¹ that there is no composition in God. Therefore, God is his own essence.

Again. It seems that only that which does not enter into the definition of a thing is beside the essence of that thing, for a definition signifies what a thing is.¹ Now only the accidents of a thing do not enter into its definition, and consequently only accidents are in a thing besides its essence. But in God there are no accidents, as we shall show further on.² Accordingly, there is nothing in him besides his essence. Therefore, he is his own essence.

Moreover. Forms that are not predicated of subsistent things, whether the latter be taken universally or singly, are forms which are not, of themselves, single subsistent forms individualized in themselves. For we do not say that Socrates, or man, or an animal is whiteness, because whiteness is not singly subsistent in itself, but is individualized by its subsistent subject. Likewise, natural forms do not subsist singly in themselves, but are individualized in their respective matters: hence we do not say that this individual fire, or fire in general, is its own form. Moreover, the essences or quiddities of genera or species are individualized by the signate matter of this or that individual, even though the quiddity of a genus or species includes form and matter in general. Hence we do not say that Socrates, or man, is humanity. Now the divine essence exists singly in itself, and is individualized in itself, since it is not in any matter, as shown above.¹ Hence the divine essence is predicated of God, so that we say: God is his own essence.

Again. That which is not its own essence is related in respect of some part of itself to that essence, as potency to act. Therefore, the essence is signified by way of form (for instance, “humanity”). But there is no potency in God, as shown above.¹ Therefore, it follows that he is his own essence.

That in God essence and existence are the same

From what has been shown above, we may go on to prove that in God essence or quiddity is not distinct from his existence.

For it has been shown above¹ that there is a thing which exists of itself necessarily, and this is God. Now necessary existence, if it belong to a quiddity which is not that existence itself, is either inconsistent with or repugnant to that quiddity—as existence in itself is to the quiddity of whiteness—or else is consistent or associated with it—for instance, that whiteness exist in some other thing. In the first way, the existence that is necessary in itself will not be consistent with that quiddity—for instance, whiteness does not exist in itself. In the second way, either this existence must be dependent on the essence, or both of them on some other cause, or the essence on the existence. The first two are in contradiction with the very notion of necessary existence in itself: for if it depends on something else, it no longer exists necessarily. From the third, it follows that this quiddity is added accidentally to the thing which exists necessarily in itself, because whatever follows on the essence of a thing is accidental to it. Therefore, God does not have an essence distinct from his existence.

But this answer does not avoid the above impossibility. For if this existence can be understood without this essence, it will follow that this essence is related accidentally to this existence. Now this existence is that which exists necessarily in itself. Therefore, this essence is related accidentally to that which exists necessarily in itself. Therefore, it is not its quiddity. But God is that which exists necessarily in himself. Therefore, this existence is not God’s essence, but something subsequent to it. But if this existence cannot be understood without that essence, then it absolutely depends on whatever its conjunction to that essence depends on: and thus the same conclusion follows.

Further. Each thing exists by its own existence. Therefore, that which is not its own existence does not exist necessarily in itself. But God exists necessarily in himself. Therefore, God is his own existence.

Moreover. If God’s existence is not his essence—and it cannot be a part of him, since the divine essence is simple, as shown above—¹it follows that this existence is something besides his essence. Now whatever is becoming to a thing (besides its essence) is becoming to it through some cause: for those things which are not one essentially must be united through some cause, if they are united together. Therefore, existence is becoming to that quiddity through some cause. Either, then, this cause is something essential to that thing, or the essence itself, or else it is some other thing. If the former, and the essence exists according to that existence, it follows that a thing is a cause of its own existence.

But this is impossible, for, according to the understanding, the cause exists before the effect. And consequently, if a thing is the cause of its own existence, it would be understood to exist before having existence, which is impossible unless it be understood that a thing is the cause of its own accidental existence, which is a relative existence. Now this is not impossible: for we find an accidental being caused by the principles of its subject before the substantial being of the subject is understood to exist. However, we are now speaking not of accidental but of substantial existence. If, on the other hand, existence is becoming to the essence by reason of some other cause, then whatever acquires existence from another cause is caused, and is not the first cause. But God is the first cause having no cause, as shown above.¹ Therefore, this quiddity that acquires existence elsewhere is not the quiddity of God. Therefore, it is necessary that God’s existence is his own quiddity.

Moreover. Existence denotes a kind of act, since a thing is said to exist not through being in potency, but through being in act. Now, everything to which an act is becoming, and which is distinct from that act, is related thereto as potency to act: for act and potency are reciprocal terms. Accordingly, if the divine essence is distinct from its existence, it follows that his essence and existence are mutually related as potency and act. Now it has been proved that in God there is nothing of potency, and that he is pure act.¹ Therefore, God’s essence is not distinct from his existence.

Again. All that cannot exist unless several things concur is composite. Now no thing in which essence and existence are distinct from one another can exist unless several things concur—namely, its essence and existence. Therefore, everything in which essence and existence are distinct is composite. But God is not composite, as proved above.¹ Therefore, God’s existence is his essence.

Further. Everything exists through having existence. Therefore, nothing whose essence is not its existence exists by its essence, but by participation of something, namely, existence. Now that which exists by participation of something cannot be the first being, because that in which a thing participates in order to exist is prior to it. But God is the first being, to whom nothing is prior.¹ Therefore, God’s essence is his existence.

This sublime truth Moses was taught by the Lord, for when he asked the Lord: if . . . the people of Israel . . . ask me, ‘what is his name?,’ what shall I say to them? The Lord answered: I am who I am. Say this to the people of Israel: ‘he who is has sent me to you’ (Exod 3:13–14); thus declaring his own name to be “he who is.” Now every name is appointed to signify the nature or essence of a thing. Therefore, it follows that God’s very existence itself is his essence or nature.

Moreover. The Catholic doctors have professed this truth. For Hilary says in his book On the Trinity:¹ Existence is not an accident in God, but the subsisting truth, the abiding cause, and the natural property of his essence. And Boethius also says, in his book On the Trinity 2, that the divine substance is existence itself, and all other existence proceeds therefrom.

That there is no accident in God

From this truth it necessarily follows that nothing can accrue to God besides his essence, nor anything be accidentally in him.

For existence itself cannot participate in something that is not of its essence, although that which exists can participate in something else. For nothing is more formal or more simple than existence. Hence existence itself can participate in nothing. Now the divine substance is existence itself.¹ Therefore, he has nothing that is not of his substance. Therefore, no accident can be in him.

Moreover. Whatever is in a thing accidentally has a cause of being there, since it is added to the essence of that in which it is. Therefore, if anything is in God accidentally, this must be through some cause. Consequently, the cause of the accident is either the divine substance itself, or something else. If it is something else, this other thing must act on the divine substance, since nothing introduces a form (whether substantial or accidental) into some recipient, unless it acts upon that recipient in some way. For to act is nothing but to make something to be actual, and it is this by a form. Therefore, God will be passive and movable to some agent, which is against what has been decided above.¹ If, on the other hand, the divine substance itself is the cause of the accident that is in it, then it is impossible for it to be its cause as receiving it, since then the same thing in the same respect would make itself to be in act. Therefore, if there is an accident in God, it follows that he receives that accident in one respect, and causes it in another, even as bodies receive their proper accidents through the nature of their matter, and cause them through their form. God, therefore, will be composite, the contrary of which has been proved above.²

Again. Every subject of an accident is compared to it as potency to act, because an accident is a kind of form making a thing to exist actually, according to accidental existence. But there is no potency in God, as shown above.¹ Therefore, there can be no accident in him.

Moreover. Everything in which something is accidentally is in some way changeable as to its nature, since an accident, by its very nature, may be in a thing or not in it. Therefore, if God has something that becomes him accidentally, it follows that he is changeable, the contrary of which has been proved above.¹

Further. Everything that has an accident in itself is not whatever it has in itself, because an accident is not of the essence of its subject. But God is whatever he has in himself. Therefore, no accident is in God. The middle proposition is proved as follows. A thing is always to be found more excellently in the cause than in the effect. But God is the cause of all things. Therefore, whatever is in him is found in him in the most perfect way. Now, that which is most perfectly becoming to a thing is that thing itself. For it is more perfectly one than when one thing is united to another substantially as form is united to matter, which union again is more perfect than when one thing is in another accidentally. It follows, therefore, that God is whatever he has.

Again. Substance is not dependent upon accident, although accident depends on substance. Now that which is not dependent upon another can sometimes be found without it.¹ Therefore, some substance can be found without an accident, and this seems most becoming to a supremely simple substance, such as the divine substance.² Therefore, the divine substance is altogether without accidents.

The Catholic writers also are in agreement with this statement. Therefore, Augustine says in his book On the Trinity¹ that there is no accident in God.

Having established this truth, we are able to refute certain erroneous statements in the law of the Saracens, who say that the divine essence has certain forms added thereto.

That the divine being cannot be specified by the addition of any substantial difference

Again. From what we have said above, it can be shown that we cannot add anything to the divine being that specifies it by an essential specification (as a genus is specified by differences).

For it is impossible for a thing to be in act without also all those things by which its substantial being is specified, for an animal cannot be in act unless it be either a rational or an irrational animal. Therefore also the Platonists who postulated ideas did not postulate essentially existing ideas of genera, which derive specification from essential differences, but they postulated essentially existing ideas of the species alone, which do not need to be specified by essential differences. If, then, the divine being can receive an essential specification from something added to it, that being will not be in act without something added to it. But God’s very being is his substance as shown above.¹ Therefore, the divine substance cannot be in act without some addition, the contrary of which has been shown above.²

Again. Whatever needs something added to it, in order to exist, is in potency to that thing. But the divine substance is not in potency in any way, as proved above.¹ And God’s substance is his being. Therefore, his being cannot receive essential specification from something added to it.

Moreover. Whatever makes a thing to be in act, and is intrinsic to that thing, is either its whole essence or part of its essence. Now, that which specifies a thing by an essential specification makes a thing to be in act, and is intrinsic to the thing specified, otherwise the latter could not be specified essentially thereby. Therefore, it must be either the very essence or part of the essence of that thing. But if something is added to the divine being, it cannot be the whole essence of God, for it has already been proved¹ that God’s existence is not distinct from his essence. Therefore, it follows that it is a part of the divine essence: and thus God would be composed of essential parts, the contrary of which was proved above.²

Again. That which is added to a thing by way of essential specification does not constitute the notion of that thing, but only makes it to be in act: for “rational” added to “animal” makes animal to be in act, but does not constitute the notion of an animal as such, because the difference does not enter into the definition of the genus. Now if something be added to God to specify him with an essential specification, it must give that to which it is added the notion of its proper quiddity or nature, since what is added in this way gives the thing actual being. Now this (namely, actual being), is the divine essence itself, as shown above.¹ It follows, therefore, that nothing can be added to the divine being to give it an essential specification, as a difference specifies a genus.

That God is not in any genus

Hence it follows of necessity that God is not in any genus.

For whatever is in a genus has something in itself by which its generic nature is specified: for nothing is in a genus without being in one of its species. But in God this is impossible, as shown above.¹ Therefore, it is impossible that God be in any genus.

Moreover. If God is in a genus, he is either in the genus of accident or of substance. He is not in the genus of accident: for an accident cannot be the first being and first cause. Nor can he be in the genus of substance, for substance that is a genus is not being itself, otherwise every substance would be its own being, and thus would not be caused by something else, which is impossible, as is clear from what we have said above.¹ Now God is being itself.² Therefore, he is not in any genus.

Again. Whatever is in a genus differs in its existence from the other things contained in the same genus, otherwise a genus would not be predicated of several things. Now, all things that are contained in the same genus must agree in the whatness of the genus, for the genus is predicated of everything in respect of what a thing is. Therefore, the being of anything contained in a genus is beside the whatness of the genus. But this is impossible in God.¹ Therefore, God is not in a genus.

Further. A thing is placed in a genus by the nature of its whatness, for genus is predicated of what a thing is. But the whatness of God is his very being.¹ Now, a thing is not placed in a genus according to its being, because then being would be a genus, signifying being itself. It remains, therefore, that God is not in a genus.

That being cannot be a genus is proved by the Philosopher as follows.¹ If being were a genus, it would be necessary to find a difference in order to contract it to a species. Now no difference participates in the genus—namely, so that the genus is contained in the notion of the difference—for thus the genus would be placed twice in the definition of the species. But the difference must be something besides what is contained in the notion of the genus. Now there can be nothing besides what is understood by being, if being belongs to the notion of those things of which it is predicated. And thus by no difference can being be contracted. It remains, therefore, that being is not a genus. Hence it necessarily follows that God is not in a genus.

From which it is likewise evident that God cannot be defined, since every definition is composed of genus and difference.

It is also clear that no demonstration is possible about him, other than through his effects: because the principle of a demonstration is the definition of that about which the demonstration is made.

Someone, however, might think that although the name of “substance” cannot properly be applied to God, because God does not subsist¹ under accidents, yet the thing signified by that term is applicable to him, and consequently he is in the genus “substance.” For substance is essentially a being, and it is clear that this can be applied to God, from the fact that it has been proved² that he is not an accident.

But to this we reply, according to what has been said, that being, in itself, is not in the definition of substance. For from the fact that it is described as a being it cannot be a genus, since it has been already proved that being has not the conditions of a genus, and again from the fact that it is described as being in itself, for this would seem to denote nothing else than a negation, since it is said to be a being in itself through not being in another, which is a pure negation. And this cannot satisfy the conditions of a genus, for then a genus would not express what a thing is, but what it is not. Therefore, we must understand the definition of substance in this way, that a substance is a thing to which it is fitting not to be in a subject—the word “thing” being taken from its quiddity, just as “being” is from existence—so that the meaning of substance is that it has a quiddity to which it is fitting to exist not in another. Now this does not apply to God, for he has no quiddity besides his existence.¹ Hence it follows that he is in no way in the genus of substance, and consequently that he is in no genus, since it has been proved² that he is not in the genus of accident.

That God is not the formal being of all things

From the foregoing we are able to refute the error of some who have asserted that God is nothing else than the formal being of everything.¹

For this being is divided into substantial and accidental being. Now the divine being is neither the being of a substance nor the being of an accident, as shown above.¹ Therefore, it is impossible for God to be the being by which everything is formally.

Again. Things are not distinct from one another in that they have being, since in this they all agree. If, then, things differ from one another, it follows that either being itself is specified by certain differences added thereto, so that different things have a specifically different being, or that things differ in that being itself is attached to specifically different natures. But the former of these is impossible, because an addition cannot be attached to being in the same way as a difference is added to a genus, as already stated.¹ It remains, therefore, that things differ because they have different natures, to which being is attached in different ways. Now the divine being is not attached to another nature, but is the nature itself, as shown above.² If, therefore, the divine being were the formal being of all things, it would follow that all things are simply one.

Moreover. The principle is naturally prior to that which flows from it. Now, in certain things being has something by way of principle: for the form is said to be the principle of being, and likewise the agent, which gives certain things actual being. Therefore, if the divine being is the being of each thing, it will follow that God, who is his own being, has a cause, and thus is not necessary being in himself. The contrary of which has been shown above.¹

Further. That which is common to many is not something besides those many except only logically. Thus “animal” is not something besides Socrates and Plato and other animals except as considered by the mind, which apprehends the form of animal as divested of all that specifies and individualizes it. For man is that which is truly an animal, otherwise it would follow that in Socrates and Plato there are several animals (namely, animal in general, man in general, and Plato himself). Much less, therefore, being itself in general is something apart from all things that have being, except only as apprehended by the mind. If, therefore, God is being in general, he will not be an individual thing, except as apprehended in the mind. Now, it has been shown above¹ that God is something not merely in the intellect, but in reality. Therefore, God is not the common being of all.

Again. Generation is essentially the way to being, and corruption the way to non-being. For the term of generation is the form, and that of corruption privation, for no other reason than because the form makes a thing to be, and corruption makes a thing not to be. For, supposing a certain form not to give being, that which received that form would not be said to be generated. If, then, God were the formal being of all things it would follow that he is the term of generation. Which is false, since he is eternal, as we have shown above.¹

The sacred doctrine also refutes this error by confessing that God is high and lifted up (Isa 6:1), and that he is over all (Rom 9:5). For if he were the being of all, he would be something in all, and not above all.

Those who erred thus are condemned by the same sentence as idolaters who the name that ought not to be shared,¹ that is, of God, to stone or wood (Wis 14:21). For, if God is the being of all, it would be no truer to say “a stone is a being” than to say “a stone is God.”

Now there are four things which apparently fostered this error.

The first was a wrong understanding of certain authorities. For they found Dionysius saying (The Celestial Hierarchy 4): the being of all is the super-essential divinity. From this they wished to conclude that God is the formal being of all things, not perceiving that this meaning is irreconcilable with the words. For if divinity were the formal being of all, it would not be above all, but in the midst of all, in fact something of all. Therefore, when he said that divinity is above all, he declares it to be by its nature distinct from all and placed above all. And by saying that divinity is the being of all, he declares that all things derive from God a likeness to the divine being. Moreover, he elsewhere expressly excludes their wrong interpretation where he declares (On the Divine Names 2) that there can be no contact with God, nor mingling of him with other things, as of point with line, or of the shape of the seal on wax.

The second cause of this error was defective reason. For, since that which is common is specified or individualized by addition, they thought the divine being, to which nothing is added, not to be some proper being, but the common being of all, because they did not perceive that the common or universal cannot exist without some addition, though it be considered apart from any addition. For “animal” cannot exist apart from the difference of “rational” or “irrational,” although we think of it apart from these differences. Moreover, although we think of the universal without an addition, we do not think of it apart from its receptivity of addition: for if no difference could be added to “animal,” it would not be a genus, and the same applies to all other names of things. Now, the divine being is without addition not only in thought, but also in reality; and not only is it without addition, but also without receptivity of addition. Therefore, from the very fact that it neither receives nor can receive addition, we should conclude rather that God is not common but proper being, since his being is distinct from all others for the very reason that nothing can be added to it. Hence the Commentator says (De causis, prop. 9) that the first cause, by reason of the very purity of its goodness, is distinct from others and, so to speak, individualized.

The third cause of this error is the consideration of the divine simplicity. For, since God is the extreme of simplicity, they thought that if we make an analysis of all that is in us, the last thing, being the most simple, must be God; for we cannot proceed indefinitely in the composition of the things that are in us. In this again their reason was lacking, that they failed to observe that what is most simple in us is not so much a complete thing as some part of a thing. But simplicity is ascribed to God as to a perfect subsistent being.

The fourth thing that might lead them into this error is the expression whereby we say that God is in all things, for they failed to perceive that he is in things not as part of them, but as the cause of things with nothing wanting to its effect. For we do not say that the form is in the body in the same sense as we say that the sailor is in the boat.

That God is not the form of a body

Accordingly, having shown that God is not the being of all, it can be proved in like manner that God is not the form of any thing.

For the divine being cannot be the being of a quiddity that is not its own being, as shown above.¹ Now that which is the divine being itself is no other than God. Therefore, it is impossible for God to be the form of any other thing.

Further. The form of a body is not its very being, but the principle of its being. But God is being itself. Therefore, God is not the form of a body.

Again. The union of form and matter results in a composite, and this is a whole in respect of form and matter. Now, the parts are in potency with respect to the whole, but in God there is no potency.¹ Therefore, it is impossible for God to be the form united to any thing.

Again. That which has being in itself is more excellent than what has being in another. Now every form of a body has being in another. Since, then, God is the most excellent being, as the first cause of being,¹ he cannot be the form of any thing.

This argument is useful for those who hold the eternity of movement. Yet if this if not granted, the same conclusion may be drawn from the regularity of the heavenly movement. For, just as that which moves itself can both be at rest and be moved, so can it be moved with greater or less velocity. Therefore, the necessity of uniformity in the heavenly movement depends on some higher principle that is altogether immovable, and which is not the part, through being the form, of a body which moves itself.

The authority of Scripture is in agreement with this truth. For it is written in the Psalm: your magnificence is elevated above the heavens (Ps 8:1); and: he is higher than heaven—what can you do? . . . His measure is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea (Job 11:8–9).

Hence we are able to refute the error of the pagans who asserted that God was the soul of the heaven or even the soul of the whole world.¹ This error led them to defend the idolatrous doctrine by which they said that the whole world was God, not in reference to the body, but to the soul, even as man is said to be wise in reference not to his body but to his soul. Supposing this, they fancied that divine worship is not unduly shown to the world and its parts. The Commentator also says (Metaphysics 11) that this occasioned the error of the Zabian people, that is, of idolaters, namely, because they asserted that God was the soul of the heaven.

Now, although things that exist and live are more perfect than those which only exist, yet God, who is not distinct from his own existence, is universally perfect being.¹ And by universally perfect I mean that he lacks not the excellence of any genus.

For every excellence of anything whatsoever is ascribed to it in respect of its being: for no excellence would accrue to man from his wisdom unless he were wise by it, and likewise with other things. Therefore, a thing’s mode of excellence is according to its mode of being: for according as its being is drawn to some special mode of excellence more or less great, it is said to be more or less excellent. Hence, if there be a thing to which the whole possibility of being belongs, it cannot lack any excellence that belongs to anything. Now, to a thing which is its own being, being belongs according to the whole possibility of being. Thus, if there were a separate whiteness, nothing of the whole possibility of whiteness could be wanting to it: for something of the possibility of whiteness is lacking to a particular white thing through a defect in the recipient of whiteness, which receives it according to its mode and, maybe, not according to the whole possibility of whiteness. Therefore, God, who is his own being, as shown above,¹ has being according to the whole possibility of being itself: consequently, he cannot lack any excellence that belongs to anything.

And just as every excellence and perfection is in a thing according to its being, so every defect is in a thing according as that thing, in some sense, is not. Now, just as God has being wholly, so is non-being wholly absent from him, since according as a thing has being it fails in non-being. Therefore, all defect is removed from God, and consequently he is universally perfect.

But those things which only exist are imperfect not on account of an imperfection in absolute being itself (for they do not have being according to its whole possibility), but because they participate in being in a particular and most imperfect way.

Again. Every imperfect thing must be preceded by some perfect thing: for example, seed is from some animal or plant. Therefore, the first being must be supremely perfect. Now it has been shown¹ that God is the first being. Therefore, he is supremely perfect.

Moreover. A thing is perfect insofar as it is in act, and imperfect insofar as it is in potency and void of act. Therefore, that which is no way in potency but is pure act must be most perfect. Now such is God.¹ Therefore, he is most perfect.

Further. Nothing acts except according as it is in act: therefore, action follows upon the mode of act in the agent. And consequently it is impossible for the effect that results from an action to have a more excellent act than that of the agent, although it is possible for the act of the effect to be more imperfect than that of the active cause, since action may be weakened on the part of that in which it terminates. Now in the genus of efficient cause we come at length to the one cause which is called God, as explained above,¹ from whom all things proceed, as we shall show in the sequel.² Therefore, it follows that whatever is actual in any other thing is found in God much more eminently than in that thing, and not conversely. Therefore, God is most perfect.

Again. In every genus there is some thing most perfect in that genus, by which every thing in that genus is measured, since everything is shown to be more or less perfect according as it approaches more or less to the measure of that genus. Thus white is said to be the measure in all colors, and the virtuous among all men.¹ Now the measure of all beings can be none other than God, who is his own being. Therefore, no perfection that belongs to any thing is lacking to him, otherwise he would not be the universal measure of all.

Hence it is that when Moses sought to see the face of God, the Lord answered him: I will make all goodness pass before you (Exod 33:19), giving thus to understand that the fullness of all good is in him. And Dionysius (On the Divine Names 5) says: God exists not in any single mode, but embraces and prepossesses all being within himself, absolutely and without limit.

It must, however, be observed that perfection cannot fittingly be ascribed to God if we consider the meaning of the word in respect of its derivation, since what is not made cannot, it seems, be described as perfect. Yet since whatever is made has been brought from potency to act, and from non-being to being, when it was made; it is rightly described as perfect (that is, completely made) when its potency is completely reduced to act, so that it retains nothing of non-being, and has complete being. Accordingly, by a kind of extension of the term, “perfect” is applied not only to that which has arrived at complete act through being made, but also to that which is in complete act without being made at all. It is thus that we say that God is perfect, according to Matthew 5:48: be you perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect.

In sequence to the above we may consider in what way it is possible to find in things a likeness to God, and in what way it is impossible.¹

For effects that fall short of their causes do not agree with them in name and meaning, and yet there must be some likeness between them, because it is of the nature of action that a like agent should produce a like action, since every thing acts according as it is in act. Therefore, the form of the effect is found in its transcendent cause somewhat, but in another way and with another meaning: for which reason that cause is called equivocal. For the sun causes heat in lower bodies by acting according as it is in act; therefore, the heat generated by the sun must bear some likeness to the sun’s active power by which heat is caused in those lower bodies and by reason of which the sun is said to be hot, although with a different meaning. And thus it is said to be somewhat like all those things on which it efficaciously produces its effects, and yet again it is unlike them all insofar as these effects do not possess heat and so forth in the same way as they are found in the sun. Thus also God bestows all perfections on things, and in consequence he is both like and unlike all.

Hence it is that Sacred Scripture sometimes recalls the likeness between him and his creatures, as when it is said: let us make man to our image and likeness (Gen 1:26): while sometimes this likeness is denied, according to the words of Isaiah: to whom then will you liken God, or what likeness compare with him? (Isa 40:18). And of the Psalm: O God, who shall be like to you? (Ps 83[82]:2).

Dionysius is in agreement with this argument, for he says (On the Divine Names 9): the same things are like and unlike to God; like, according as they imitate him, as far as they can, who is not perfectly imitable; unlike, according as effects fall short of their causes.

However,¹ according to this likeness, it is more fitting to say that the creature is like God than vice versa. For one thing is like another when it possesses a quality or form of it. Since, then, what is in God perfectly is found in other things by way of an imperfect participation, that in which likeness is observed is God’s simply, but not the creature’s. And thus the creature has what is God’s, and therefore is rightly said to be like God. But it cannot be said in this way that God has what belongs to his creature: therefore, it is not fitting to say that God is like his creature, as neither do we say that a man is like his portrait, although we declare that his portrait is like him.

And much less properly can it be said that God is assimilated to the creature. For assimilation denotes movement towards similarity, and consequently applies to one that receives its similarity from another. But the creature receives from God its similarity to him, and not vice versa. Therefore, God is not assimilated to his creature, but rather vice versa.

What terms can be predicated of God

From these, we may also consider what can and what cannot be said of God, as well as what is said of him alone, and what is said of him together with other beings.

For, since every perfection of creatures is to be found in God, though in another and more eminent way, whatever terms denote perfection absolutely and without any defect whatever are predicated of God and of other things (for instance, goodness, wisdom, and so forth). But any term that denotes such perfections with a mode proper to creatures cannot be said of God except by similitude and metaphor, by which that which belongs to one thing is applied to another (as when a man is said to be a stone on account of the hardness of his intelligence). Such are all those terms employed to denote the species of a created thing, as “man” and “stone,” for its proper mode of perfection and being is due to each species. So it is with whatever terms signify those properties of things that are caused by the proper principles of the species. Hence they cannot be said of God, except metaphorically. But those which express these perfections together with the mode of supereminence in which they belong to God are said of God alone (for instance, “the highest good,” the “first being,” and the like).

Now, I say that some of the aforesaid terms denote perfection without defect as regards that which the term is employed to signify: for, as regards the mode of signification, every term is defective. For we express things by a term as we conceive them by the intellect. But our intellect, since its knowledge originates from the senses, does not surpass the mode which we find in sensible objects, in which the form is distinct from the subject of the form on account of the composition of form and matter. Now, in those things the form is found to be simple indeed, but imperfect, as being non-subsistent. But the subject of the form is found to be subsistent, but not simple—indeed, with concretion. Therefore, whatever our intellect signifies as subsistent, it signifies with concretion, and whatever it signifies as simple, it signifies not as subsisting, but as qualifying. Accordingly, in every term employed by us, there is imperfection as regards the mode of signification, and imperfection is unbecoming to God, although the thing signified is becoming to God in some eminent way (for example, in the term “goodness” or “the good”). For goodness signifies by way of non-subsistence, and the good signifies by way of concretion. In this respect no term is becomingly applied to God, but only in respect of that which the term is employed to signify. Therefore, as Dionysius teaches,¹ such terms can be either affirmed or denied of God: affirmed, on account of the signification of the term; denied, on account of the mode of signification.

Now the mode of supereminence in which the aforesaid perfections are found in God cannot be expressed in terms employed by us except either by negation—as when we say God is eternal or infinite—or by referring him to other things—as when we say that he is the first cause or the highest good. For we are able to grasp not what God is, but what he is not, and the relations of other things to him, as explained above.¹

That the divine perfection and the plurality of divine names are not inconsistent with the divine simplicity

From what has been said we can also see that the divine perfection and the various names applied to God are not inconsistent with his simplicity.

For we asserted that all the perfections to be found in other things are to be ascribed to God in the same way as effects are found in their equivocal causes,¹ which effects are in their causes virtually, as heat is in the sun. But the sun would not generate its like unless virtue of this sort were in the genus of heat. Therefore, by reason of this virtue the sun is said to be hot not only because it causes heat, but because the virtue by which it does this is something conformed with heat. Now, the sun causes many other effects in lower bodies (such as dryness) by this same virtue through which it causes heat. And so heat and dryness, which are distinct qualities in fire, are ascribed to the sun in respect of the one virtue. And so too the perfections of all things, which are becoming to other things in respect of various forms, must be ascribed to God in respect of his one virtue. And this virtue is not distinct from his essence, since nothing can be accidental to him, as we have proved.² Accordingly, God is said to be wise not only because he causes wisdom, but because insofar as we are wise, we imitate in some way the virtue by which he makes us wise. He is not, however, called a “stone,” although he made the stones, because by the term “stone” we understand a definite mode of being, in respect of which a stone differs from God.³ But a stone imitates God as its cause, in respect of being, goodness and so forth, even as other creatures do.

The like of this may be found in human cognitive powers and operative virtues. For the intellect by its one virtue knows all that the sensitive faculty apprehends by various powers, and many other things besides. Again, the higher the intellect is, the more things is it able to know by means of one, while an inferior intellect can arrive at the knowledge of those things only by means of many. Again, the royal power extends to all those things to which the various subordinate powers are directed. Likewise, God, by his one simple being, possesses all manner of perfections which in a much lower degree other things attain by certain various means.

From this, it is clear how it is necessary to give several names to God. For, since we cannot know him naturally except by reaching him from his effects,¹ it follows that the terms by which we denote his perfection must be diverse, as also are the perfections which we find in things. If, however, we were able to understand his very essence as it is, and to give him a proper name, we should express him by one name only. And this is promised to those who will see him in his essence: on that day the Lord will be one and his name one (Zech 14:9).

That nothing is predicated univocally of God and other things

From the above it is clear that nothing can be predicated univocally of God and other things.

For an effect which does not receive the same form specifically as that by which the agent acts cannot receive the name derived from that form in a univocal sense: for the sun and the heat generated from the sun are not called hot univocally. Now the forms of things which God causes do not come to the species of the divine virtue, since they receive severally and particularly that which is in God simply and universally.¹ It is evident, therefore, that nothing can be said univocally of God and other things.

Further. If an effect attains to the species of its cause, the name of the latter will not be predicated of it univocally, unless it receives the same specific form according to the same mode of being. For “house” in art is not univocally the same as “house” in matter, since the form of house has a dissimilar existence in each. Now, other things, even though they receive entirely the same form, do not receive it according to the same mode of being: for there is nothing in God that is not the divine being itself, as shown above,¹ which does not apply to other things. Therefore, it is impossible for anything to be predicated univocally of God and other things.

Moreover. Whatever is predicated of several things univocally is either genus, or species, or difference, or accident, or property. Now, nothing is predicated of God as genus or as difference, as we have proved above,¹ and consequently neither as definition nor as species, which consists of genus and difference. Nor can anything be accidental to him, as was shown above,² and consequently nothing is predicated of God either as accidental or as proper, for the proper is a kind of accident. It follows, therefore, that nothing is predicated of God and other things univocally.

Again. That which is predicated univocally of several things is more simple than either of them, at least in our way of understanding. Now nothing can be more simple than God, either in reality or in our way of understanding. Therefore, nothing is predicated univocally of God and other things.

Further. Whatever is predicated univocally of several things belongs by participation to each of the things of which it is predicated: for the species is said to participate in the genus, and the individual in the species. But nothing is said of God by participation, since whatever is participated is confined to the mode of a participated thing, and thus is possessed partially, and not according to every mode of perfection. It follows, therefore, that nothing is predicated univocally of God and other things.

Again. That which is predicated of several things according to priority and posteriority is certainly not predicated of them univocally, since that which comes first is included in the definition of what follows, as substance is in the definition of accident (considered as a being). If, therefore, we were to say “being” univocally of substance and accident, it would follow that substance also should enter into the definition of being as predicated of substance, which is clearly impossible. Now, nothing is predicated in the same order of God and other things, but according to priority and posteriority, since all predicates of God are essential (for he is called “being” because he is being itself, and “good” because he is goodness itself), whereas predicates are applied to others by participation (thus Socrates is said to be a man not as though he were humanity itself, but because he has humanity). Therefore, it is impossible for any thing to be predicated univocally of God and other things.

That not all terms applied to God and creatures are purely equivocal

It is also clear from what has been said that things predicated of God and other things are not all pure equivocations, as are the effects of an equivocal cause.

For in the effects of an equivocal cause we find no mutual order or relationship, and it is altogether accidental that the same name is applied to various things, for the name applied to one does not signify that it has any relationship to another. But it is not so with the terms applied to God and creatures, for, in employing these common terms, we consider the order of cause and effect, as is clear from what we have said.¹ Therefore, certain things predicated of God and other things are not pure equivocations.

Moreover. Where there is pure equivocation, we observe no likeness of things, but merely sameness of name. Now things have some kind of likeness to God, as shown above.¹ Therefore, it follows that they are not said of God by pure equivocation.

Again. When one thing is predicated of several by pure equivocation, we cannot be led from one to the knowledge of the other, for the knowledge of things depends not on words but on the meaning of names. Now, we come to the knowledge of divine things from our observation of other things, as shown above. Therefore, such things are not pure equivocations when said of God and other things.

Further. The use of equivocal terms breaks the continuity of an argument. Therefore, if nothing were said of God and creatures except by pure equivocation, no argument could be made by proceeding to God from creatures. But the contrary is evidenced by all who speak of divine things.

Moreover. It is useless to predicate a name of a thing unless by that name we understand something about that thing. Now, if names are predicated equivocally of God and creatures, we understand nothing of God by those names, since the meanings of those names are known to us only as applied to creatures. It would, therefore, be useless to say or prove about God that God is being, good, or any thing else of the kind.

If, however, it be asserted that by such terms we only know of God what he is not (namely, so that he is called “living” because he is not in the genus of inanimate beings, and so forth), it follows at least that “living” when said of God and creatures agrees in the negation of inanimate being: and thus it will not be a pure equivocation.

That terms applied to God and creatures are said analogically

It follows, then, from what has been said¹ that those things which are said of God and other things are predicated neither univocally nor equivocally, but analogically, that is, according to an order or relation to some one thing.

This happens in two ways. First, according as many things have a relation to some one thing: thus in relation to the one health, an animal is said to be “healthy” as its subject, medicine as effective thereof, food as preserving it, and urine as its sign.

Second, according as an order or relation of two things may be observed not to some other thing, but to one of them. Thus being is said of substance and accident insofar as accident bears a relation to substance, and not as though substance and accident were referred to a third thing.

Accordingly, such names are not said of God and other things analogically in the first way, for it would be necessary to suppose something prior to God, but in the second way.

Now in this analogical predication the relationship is sometimes found to be the same both as to the name and as to the thing, and sometimes it is not the same. For the relationship of the name follows on the relationship of knowledge, since the name is the sign of intellectual conception. Accordingly, when that which comes first in reality is found to be first also in knowledge, the same thing is found to be first both as to the meaning of the name and as to the nature of the thing. Thus substance is prior to accident both in nature (inasmuch as substance is the cause of accident), and in knowledge (inasmuch as substance is placed in the definition of accident). Therefore, “being” is said of substance prior to being said of accident, both in reality and according to the meaning of the word. On the other hand, when that which comes first according to nature comes afterwards according to knowledge, then, in analogical terms, there is not the same order according to the reality and according to the meaning of the name. Thus the healing power in health-giving medicine is naturally prior to health in the animal, as cause is prior to effect; yet, as we know this power through its effect, we name it from that effect. Hence it is that “health-giving” is first in the order of reality, and yet “healthy” is predicated of animal first according to the meaning of the term.

Accordingly, since we arrive at the knowledge of God from other things, the reality of the names predicated of God and other things is first in God according to his mode, but the meaning of the name is in him afterwards. Therefore, he is said to be named from his effects.

That the several names predicated of God are not synonymous

From what we have said it is also proved that although names predicated of God signify the same thing, they are not synonymous, because they do not convey the same meaning.

For just as various things are by their various forms like one simple thing (which is God), so our intellect is somewhat like him by its various conceptions, insofar as it is led to know him by the various perfections of creatures. Therefore, our understanding is neither false nor vain in conceiving many things about one thing; because that simple divine being is such that certain things can be likened to him according to their manifold forms, as we have proved above.¹ And, according to its various conceptions, our intellect devises various names which it applies to God. Therefore, since they are not applied with the same meaning, it is clear that they are not synonymous, although they signify a thing absolutely one: for the name does not have the same meaning, since it denotes the concept of the intellect prior to the thing understood.

How our intellect forms a proposition about God

Furthermore, from this it is clear that our intellect does not vainly form propositions about a simple God by composition and division, although God is altogether simple.

For, although our intellect arrives at the knowledge of God by various conceptions, as stated above,¹ it understands that what corresponds to them all is absolutely one, because our intellect does not ascribe its mode of understanding to the things which it understands, even as neither does it ascribe immateriality to a stone, although it knows it immaterially. Consequently, it enunciates the unity of the thing by a verbal composition implying identity when it says “God is good” or “is goodness”: so that if there be any diversity in the composition it is referred to the understanding, and unity to the thing understood. Similarly, sometimes our intellect forms a proposition about God with an implication of diversity by inserting a preposition, as when we say: “goodness is in God,” because here we imply both a certain diversity that is befitting the understanding, and a certain unity which must be referred to the thing.

That God is good

The goodness of God may be concluded from his perfection which we have proved.¹

For that by reason of which a thing is said to be good is its own virtue, since the virtue of any thing is that which makes its subject good and renders its work good.¹ Now virtue is a perfection, since we say that a thing is perfect when it attains its proper virtue, as is clear in the Physics.² Therefore, a thing is good because it is perfect. And hence every thing desires its own perfection as its proper good. Now it has been proved that God is perfect.³ Therefore, he is good.

Again. It has been proved above¹ that there is an immovable first mover, which is God. Now he moves as a mover absolutely immovable, and this moves as the object of desire. Therefore, God is the first object of desire since he is the first immovable mover. Now a thing is desired in two ways: either because it is good, or because it seems good. The former is that which is good, for the seeming good does not move essentially, but according as it has some appearance of good, whereas the good moves essentially. Therefore, the first object of desire, which is God, is good.

Further. The good is that which all things desire, which the Philosopher quotes as very well said in Ethics 1.1. Now all things desire to be in act according to their mode, which is evident from the fact that everything, by its nature, shrinks from corruption. Therefore, the essential notion of the good is to be in act, and consequently evil (which is opposed to good) results from the privation of act by potency, as the Philosopher declares in Metaphysics 9. Now God is a being in act and not in potency, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, he is truly good.

Moreover. The bestowal of being and goodness proceeds from goodness. This is proved from the very nature of the good, and from the notion it conveys. For the good of a thing is naturally its act and perfection. Now a thing acts through being in act. But by acting, it bestows being and goodness on other things. Therefore, it is a sign of a thing’s perfection that it is able to produce its like, as the Philosopher declares in Meteorology.¹ Again, the notion of the good is that it is something appetible, and this is an end. And the end moves the agent to act. Hence good is said to be diffusive of itself and being.² Now, this diffusion is becoming to God: for it has been shown above³ that he is the cause of being in other things, since he is the essentially necessary being. Therefore, he is truly good.

Therefore, it is said in the Psalm: truly God is good to Israel, to those who are pure in heart (Ps 73[72]:1); and: the Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him (Lam 3:25).

That God is goodness itself

From the above we are able to conclude that God is his own goodness.

For to be in act is for every thing its own good. Now, God is not only being in act, but is his own being, as proved above.¹ Therefore, he is goodness itself and not merely good.

Again. Any good that is not its own goodness is good by participation. Now that which is by participation presupposes something antecedent to itself, from which it derives the nature of goodness. But it is not possible to continue thus to infinity, for in final causes there is no proceeding to infinity, since the infinite is inconsistent with finality, and the good has the nature of a final cause. We must, therefore, come to some first good that is good not by participation in relation to something else, but by its essence. Now this is God. Therefore, God is his own goodness.

Again. That which exists can participate in something, but being itself can participate in nothing, for that which participates is potency, whereas being is act. Now God is being itself, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, he is good not by participation, but essentially.

Moreover. In every simple thing, “being” and “that which is” are one: for if they are distinct, there is no longer simplicity.¹ Now, God is absolutely simple, as we have proved. Therefore, that he is good is not distinct from himself. Therefore, he is his own goodness.

These same arguments show that nothing else is its own goodness. Hence it is said: none is good but God alone (Matt 19:17).¹

That no evil can be in God

Hence it is manifestly apparent that evil cannot be in God.

For “being” and “goodness” and all essential predicates have nothing besides themselves added to them, although “that which is” or “the good” may have something besides being or goodness. For nothing hinders the subject of one perfection being the subject of another besides: thus that which is a body may be white and sweet. But every nature is confined within the bounds of its essence, so that it admits of nothing extraneous within itself. Now God is goodness, and not merely good, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, nothing that is not goodness can be in him, and consequently evil can in no way be in him.

Moreover. As long as a thing remains, that which is contrary to its essence is altogether incompatible with it: thus irrationality or insensibility is incompatible with man, unless he ceases to be man. Now the divine essence is goodness itself, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, evil (which is contrary to good) can have no place in God unless he ceases to be God, which is impossible, since he is eternal, as was proved above.²

Again. Since God is his own being, nothing can be said of him by participation, as is clear from the argument given above.¹ If, then, evil were predicated of him, it would be a predicate not by participation, but by essence. But evil cannot be predicated of any thing in such a way as to be the essence of that thing, for it would lack being, which is a good, as we have shown above.² And in evil there can be no extraneous admixture, as neither can there be in goodness. Therefore, evil cannot be predicated of God.

Again. Evil is opposed to good. But the notion of good consists in perfection.¹ And therefore the notion of evil consists in imperfection. Now defect or imperfection cannot be in God, since he is completely perfect, as shown above.² Therefore, evil cannot be in God.

This is moreover confirmed by Sacred Scripture. For it is written in the first canonical epistle of John: God is light and in him is no darkness at all (1 John 1:5); and: far be it from God that he should do wickedness, and from the Almighty that he should do wrong (Job 34:10).

That God is the good of every good¹

It is also proved from the foregoing that God is the good of every good.¹

For the goodness of a thing is its perfection, as we have stated.¹ Now, since God is simply perfect, he contains in his perfection the perfections of all things, as we have shown.² Therefore, his goodness contains all goodnesses, and consequently he is the good of every good.

Again. A thing is not said to have a quality by participation, except insofar as it bears some resemblance to that which is said to have that quality essentially. Thus iron is said to be “fiery” insofar as it partakes of a resemblance to fire. Now, God is good essentially, while everything else is good by participation, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, nothing is said to be good except insofar as it bears some resemblance to the divine goodness. Therefore, he is the good of every good.

Further. Since a thing is desirable for the sake of an end, and the aspect of good consists in its being desirable,¹ it follows that a thing is said to be good either because it is an end, or because it is directed to an end. Therefore, the last end is that from which all things take the aspect of good. Now this is God, as we shall prove further on.² Therefore, God is the good of every good.

Hence the Lord, in promising Moses that he should see him, said: I will make all my goodness pass before you (Exod 33:19). And it is said of divine wisdom: all good things came to me along with her (Wis 7:11).

That God is the highest good

From this it is proved that God is the highest good.

For the universal good stands far above any particular good, even as the good of the nation is greater than the good of an individual:¹ for the goodness and perfection of the whole stand above the goodness and perfection of the part. Now the divine goodness of God is compared to all other things as the universal good to the particular, for he is the good of every good, as we have proved.² Therefore, he is the highest good.

Again. The greatest in any genus is the cause of others in that genus:¹ for the cause is greater than its effect. Now all things derive their aspect of goodness from God, as we have shown.² Therefore, he is the highest good.

Moreover. Just as that is more white which has less admixture of black, so that is better which has less admixture of evil. Now God is most of all unmixed with evil, since in him there can be no evil (neither in act nor in potency), and this becomes him by his very nature, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, he is the highest good.

Hence it is said: there is none holy like the Lord (1 Sam 2:2).

That God is one

Having proved the foregoing, it is manifest that there is only one God.

For it is impossible that there be two highest goods. For that which is ascribed to a thing by way of superabundance is to be found in one alone. Now God is the highest good, as we have shown.¹ Therefore, God is one.

Again. That which is sufficiently done if done by one is better done by one than by many.¹ Now the order of things is the best possible, since the potency of the first agent does not fail the potency of things for perfection. And all things are sufficiently perfected by referring them to one first principle. Therefore, a plurality of principles is inadmissible.

Moreover. It is impossible for one continual and regular movement to proceed from several movers. For if they move together, none of them is a perfect mover, but all together take the place of one perfect mover. This does not apply to the first mover, since the perfect precedes the imperfect. If, however, they do not move together, each of them is at one time moving, and at another time not. Thus it follows that the movement is neither continuous nor regular, because movement that is continuous and one is from one mover. Moreover, a mover that is not always moving is found to move irregularly, as evidenced by movers of lower degree (in which violent movement is intense at first and slackens at the end), while natural movement is the reverse. But the first movement is one and continuous, as was proved by the philosophers.¹ Therefore, its first mover must be one.

Again. Corporeal substance is directed to spiritual substance as its good, for there is in the latter a fuller goodness, to which corporeal substance seeks to be likened, since whatever exists desires to attain the greatest good as far as possible. Now, all movements of the corporeal creature are found to be reduced to one first movement, beside which there is no other first movement not reducible to it. Therefore, beside the spiritual substance which is the end of the first movement, there is no other that cannot be reduced to it. Now, by this name we understand God. Therefore, there is only one God.

Moreover. The mutual order of all diverse things that are directed to each other is on account of their order towards some one thing, even as the order of an army’s parts to each other is on account of the whole army’s order to the general. For certain diverse things cannot be united together by their own natures (as distinct from one another) in some relationship, because from this there would rather result distinction among them. Nor can it result from different causes of order, because these could not aim at one order of themselves, as differing from one another. Accordingly, either the mutual order of many is accidental, or it must be reduced to one first cause of that order, who sets all in order towards the end which he intends. Now, all the parts of this world are observed to be ordered to one another insofar as certain things are aided by certain others: thus the lower bodies are moved by the higher, and the latter by incorporeal substances, as shown above.¹ Nor is this accidental, since it happens always or for the most part. Therefore, this world has but one director and governor. But there is no other world besides this. Therefore, there is but one governor of the universe, whom we call God.

Again. If there be two things, both of which necessarily exist, they must agree in the intention of the necessity of being. It follows, therefore, that they must be differentiated by something added either to one or to both of them, and consequently that either one or both of them is composite. Now no composite thing exists necessarily in itself, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, there cannot possibly be several things each of which exists necessarily, and consequently neither can there be several gods.

Moreover. Supposing they agree in the necessity of being, that in which they differ is either required as a complement in some way to this necessity of being, or is not. If not, it follows that it is accidental, because whatever is added to a thing, having nothing to do with its being, is an accident. Therefore, this accident has a cause. And this cause is either the essence of that which exists of necessity, or something else. If it is its essence, since the very necessity of being is its essence, as shown above,¹ the necessity of being will be the cause of that accident. But necessity of being is found in both. Therefore, both have that accident, and consequently are not differentiated thereby. If, however, the cause of this accident be something else, it follows that unless this something else exist, this accident would not exist. And without this accident there would not be the aforesaid distinction. Therefore, without that something else, these two things that are supposed to exist of necessity would be not two, but one. Therefore, the proper being of both is dependent on a third, and consequently neither of them exists necessarily of itself.

If, on the other hand, that in which they differ be necessary as a complement to their necessity of being, this will be either because it is included in the notion of the necessity of being, as “animate” is included in the definition of animal, or because necessity of being is specified by it, as animal is completed by “rational.” In the first case, it follows that wherever there is necessity of being, there is that which is included in its notion; thus to whatever we can apply “animal” we can apply “animate.” And thus, since we ascribe necessity of being to both the aforesaid, they cannot be differentiated by it. In the second case, this is again impossible. For the difference that specifies a genus does not complete the generic idea, but the genus acquires being in act by it, because the notion of animal is complete before the addition of “rational,” although animal cannot be in act except it be either rational or irrational. Now, this is impossible for two reasons. First, because the quiddity of that which has being of necessity is its being, as we have proved above.¹ Second, because thus necessary being would acquire being from something else, which is impossible.

Therefore, it is impossible to have several things, each of which has necessary being of itself.

Further. If there be two gods, this word “God” is predicated of both either univocally or equivocally. If equivocally, this is beside the present question: for nothing prevents any thing receiving an equivocal name, if the usage of speech allows it. If, however, it is predicated univocally, it must be said of both in the same sense: and thus it follows that in both there is the same nature in common. Either, therefore, this nature is in both according to the same being, or else it is according to different beings. If according to one being, it follows that they are not two, but only one: for two things do not have one being if they differ substantially. If, however, there is a different being in both, the quiddity of neither will be its own being. But we must admit this to be the case in God, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, neither of them is what we understand by the name of God, and consequently it is impossible to admit the existence of two gods.

Again. None of the things that belong to a particular signate thing as such, can possibly belong to another, because the singularity of a particular thing belongs to no other but the singular thing itself. Now, its necessity of being belongs to that which is of necessity inasmuch as it is this signate thing. Therefore, it cannot possibly belong to any other thing, and thus it is impossible that there be several things each of which exists of necessity. Therefore, it is impossible that there be several gods.

Proof of the middle proposition: if that which is of necessity is not this signate thing as being of necessity, it follows that the designation of its being is not necessary in itself, but depends on something else. Now a thing according as it is in act is distinct from all else, and this is to be this signate thing. Therefore, that which is of necessity depends on something else for being in act, and this is contrary to the notion of that which is of necessity. Therefore, that which is of necessity must be of necessity according as it is this signate thing.

Again. The nature signified by this word “God” is individualized either by itself in this God or by something else. If by something else, there must be composition in it. If by itself, it follows that it cannot be applied to another: for that which is the principle of individualization cannot be common to several. Therefore, it is impossible that there be several gods.

Moreover. If there be several gods, it follows that the divine nature is not identically the same in each. Therefore, there must be something to distinguish the divine nature is this one and that one. But this is impossible, since the divine nature receives no addition whether of essential or of accidental differences, as proved above.¹ Nor is the divine nature the form of any matter,² so as to be divided as the matter is divided. Therefore, there cannot possibly be several gods.

Again. The being proper to each thing is but one. Now God is himself his very being, as shown above.¹ Therefore, there can be but one God.

Further. A thing has being according as it has unity. Hence every thing shuns division so far as it can, lest it thus tend to non-being. But the divine nature surpasses all in having being. Therefore, there is supreme unity therein. Therefore, it is in no way divided into several.

Moreover. We observe that in every genus multitude proceeds from some kind of unity: and thus in every genus we find one first thing, which is the measure of all things found in that genus. Hence whatever things we find agreeing in one point must proceed from some one principle. Now all things agree in the point of being. Therefore, that which is the principle of all things must be one only, and this is God.

Again. In every government he who presides desires unity; hence the chief form of government is a monarchy or kingdom. And of our many members there is one head, and this is an evident sign that unity is due to whom headship is becoming. Therefore, we must confess that God, who is the cause of all, is simply one.

But we can also infer this confession of the divine unity from the sacred eloquence: hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one God (Deut 6:4); and: you shall have no other gods before me (Exod 20:3); and: one Lord, one faith (Eph 4:5).

By this truth the heathens, who believe in many gods, are refuted. And yet several of them affirmed the existence of one supreme god, by whom they asserted that the others whom they called gods were caused, for they ascribed the godhead to all eternal substances, especially by reason of wisdom, felicity and governance of the universe. This mode of expression is found even in Sacred Scripture, where holy angels or men or judges are called “gods,” as in the words of the Psalm: there is none like you among the gods, O Lord (Ps 86[85]:8), and again: I say: you are gods (Ps 82[81]:6), and many like passages are found throughout Scripture.

Therefore, the Manicheans would seem yet more opposed to this truth, since they assert two first principles, the one of which is not the cause of the other.

The Arians too impugned this truth by their errors, since they asserted that the Father and the Son are not one but distinct gods, and yet were compelled by the authority of Scripture to confess that the Son is true God.

That God is infinite

Now while the infinite is a sequel of quantity, as philosophers teach,¹ infinity cannot be ascribed to God in respect of multitude, seeing that it has been proved that there is but one God,² and that there is no composition either of parts or of accidents in him.³ Nor may we say that he is infinite in respect of continuous quantity, since we have shown that he is incorporeal.⁴ It remains, therefore, to inquire whether infinity is becoming to him in respect of spiritual magnitude.

This spiritual magnitude is referable to two things, namely, to power and to the goodness or perfection of a thing’s very nature. For a thing is said to be more or less white according to the degree of perfection in its whiteness. And the magnitude of power is gauged from the magnitude of deeds or of things made. Now in these things the magnitude of one follows the magnitude of the other, because from the very fact that a thing is in act it is active, and consequently the degree of magnitude in its power is according to the degree in which it is perfected in its act. And thus spiritual things are said to be great according to their degree of perfection: for Augustine says that in things which are great not by bulk, to be great is to be good.¹

Accordingly, we have to show that God is infinite according to this kind of magnitude. Not, however, so that infinite be understood privatively, as in dimensive or numeral quantity: for a quantity of this kind is naturally finite, so that we speak of infinity by subtraction of that which it has by nature, and for this reason infinity in those quantities denotes imperfection. But in God the infinite is understood only negatively, because there is no bound or end to his perfection, and he is the supremely perfect being. And it is thus that the infinite should be ascribed to God.

For whatever is finite by its nature is confined to some generic notion. Now God is in no genus, and his perfection contains the perfections of all genera, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, he is infinite.

Moreover. Every act inherent to something else receives its limitation from that in which it is, since that which is in another is in it according to the mode of the recipient. Therefore, an act that exists in no subject has no limitations: for instance, if whiteness were essentially existent, the perfection of whiteness in it would not be limited from having whatever it is possible to have of the perfection of whiteness. Now God is an act in no way existing in another: for neither is he form in matter, as we have proved,¹ nor is his being inherent to any form or nature, since he is his own being, as we have shown above.² Therefore, it follows that he is infinite.

Again. In things we find something that is pure potency, as prime matter; something that is pure act, namely, God, as we have shown above;¹ and something that is act and potency, namely, other things. Now as potency, since it bears relation to an act, cannot exceed that act in any particular thing, so neither can it simply. Therefore, since primary matter is infinite in its potency, it follows that God, who is pure act, is infinite in his act.

Again. An act is the more perfect according as it is less mingled with potency. Therefore, every act that has an admixture of potency has a limit to its perfection, while the act which has no admixture of potency has no limit to its perfection. Now God is pure act without any potency, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, he is infinite.

Again. Being itself, considered absolutely, is infinite; for it can be participated by an infinite number of things in an infinite number of ways. Hence if we take a thing with finite being, this being must be limited by some other thing which is in some way the cause of that being. Now there can be no cause of God’s being, since he is necessary of himself.¹ Therefore, he has infinite being, and himself is infinite.

Moreover. Whatever has a particular perfection is the more perfect according as it more fully participates that perfection. Now there cannot be, nor even be imagined, a way in which a perfection is possessed more fully than by that which is perfect by its essence, and whose being is its goodness: and such is God. Therefore, in no way can anything be imagined better or more perfect than God. Therefore, he is infinite in goodness.

Further. Our intellect reaches the infinite in understanding, a sign of which is that, given any finite quantity, our intellect can imagine a greater. Now, it would be to no purpose for the intellect to be thus directed to the infinite unless there were infinite intelligible being. Therefore, there must be some infinite intelligible thing, which must be the greatest of all beings: and this we call God. Therefore, God is infinite.

Again. An effect cannot extend beyond its cause. Now our intellect cannot be but from God, who is the first cause of all things. Therefore, our intellect cannot think of anything greater than God. If, then, it is possible to think of something greater than every finite thing, it follows that God is not finite.

Moreover. Infinite power cannot be in a finite essence, because everything acts by its form, which is either its essence or part thereof, and power denotes a principle of action. But God has not a finite active power, for he moves in infinite time, and this cannot be save from an infinite power, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, it follows that God’s essence is infinite.

This argument, however, avails for those who hold to the eternity of the world. If this is not supposed, our opinion about the infinity of the divine power is confirmed yet more. For every agent is the more powerful to act according as it reduces to act a potency the further removed from act: thus a greater power is needed to heat water than air. Now that which is not at all is infinitely distant from act, nor is it in any way in potency. Therefore, if the world was made after previously not being at all, the maker’s power must be infinite.

This argument, even for those who hold to the eternity of the world, is strong enough to prove the infinity of the divine power. For they confess that God is the cause of the substance of the world, although they aver that it is eternal, since they say that the eternal God is the cause of an eternal world in the same way as a foot would have been from eternity the cause of a footprint, if it had trod on the dust from eternity.¹ Now this opinion being presupposed, it nevertheless follows from the above argument that the power of God is infinite. For whether he fashioned things from time, as we hold, or from eternity, as they maintain, there cannot be in things anything that he has not produced, since he is the universal source of being, and so he produced them without any preexisting matter or potency. Now active power must be in proportion to passive potency, because the greater the passive potency that is preexistent or presupposed, the greater the active power which completes its act. Hence it follows, since a finite power produces an effect if we presuppose the potency of matter, that God’s power, which presupposes no potency, is not finite but infinite: and that consequently his essence is infinite.

Moreover. A thing lasts so much the longer as its cause is more efficacious. Consequently, a thing which is of infinite duration must have being through a cause of infinite efficacy. Now God is of infinite duration, for it has been shown above¹ that he is eternal. Since, then, he has no cause of his being besides himself, it follows that he is infinite.

The authority of Sacred Scripture bears witness to this truth; for the Psalmist says: great is the Lord and greatly to be praised: and of his greatness there is no end (Ps 145[144]:3).

The same truth is attested by the statements of the oldest philosophers, since all of them, compelled as it were by truth itself, asserted that the first principle of things is infinite.¹ For they knew not what they said, believing the infinity of the first principle to be after the manner of a discrete quantity, as Democritus maintained, asserting an infinite number of atoms to be the principles of things, and as Anaxagoras held, stating that the principles of things are an infinite number of similar parts; or after the manner of continuous quantity, as those who held that some element, or some undefined infinite body, is the first principle of all. But since it was proved by the researches of subsequent philosophers that there is no infinite body, and if to this we add that the first principle must be infinite in some way, it follows that the infinite which is the first principle is neither a body nor a power residing in a body.²

God’s knowledge

That God is an intelligent being

It may be shown from the above that God is an intelligent being.

For it was proved¹ that it is impossible to proceed to infinity in movers and things moved, and that all things moved must be reduced, as is probable, to one self-moving principle. Now a self-mover moves itself by appetite and apprehension: for only such things are found to move themselves, since it is in them to be moved and not to be moved. Therefore, the moving part in the first self-mover must be appetitive and apprehensive. Now, in that movement which is by appetite and apprehension the appetent and apprehender is a moved mover, while the appetible and the apprehended is a mover not moved.

Since, then, that which is the first mover of all, which we call God, is a mover altogether unmoved, it follows that it is compared to the motor which is a part of the self-mover as the appetible to the appetent. Not, however, as the appetible to the sensitive appetite, because the sensitive appetite is not of the good simply, but of this particular good, since also sensitive apprehension is only of the particular; and that which is good and appetible simply, is prior to that which is good and appetible here and now.

Therefore, the first mover must be the appetible as an object of the understanding, and consequently the mover that desires itself must be an intelligent being. Much more, therefore, is the very first appetible an intelligent being, because what desires it becomes actually understanding through being united to it as an intelligible object. Therefore, it follows that God is intelligent, if it is supposed that the first mover moves itself, as the early philosophers maintained.

Again. The same conclusion follows necessarily if movable things be reduced not to some first self-mover, but to a mover that is utterly immovable. For the first mover is the universal principle of movement. Therefore, since every mover moves by some form which it intends in moving, it follows that the form by which the first mover moves must be universal form and universal good. Now a form is not found under conditions of universality save in the intellect. Therefore, the first mover, which is God, must be intelligent.

Moreover. In no order of movers do we find that a mover by the intellect is the instrument of that which moves without intellect, but rather the opposite. Now all movers that are in the world are compared to the first mover, which is God, as instruments to the principal agent. Since, then, we find in the world many movers by intellect, it is impossible that the first mover move without intellect. Therefore, God must of necessity be intelligent.

Again. A thing is intelligent from the fact of its being without matter. The sign of this is that forms become understood through abstraction from matter. Hence also understanding is of universals and not of singulars, because matter is the principle of individualization. Now forms actually understood become one with the intellect actually understanding. Therefore, if forms are actually understood from the very fact that they are without matter, it follows that a thing is actually intelligent from the fact that it is without matter. Now it was shown above¹ that God is absolutely immaterial. Therefore, he is intelligent.

Again. God lacks no perfection that is to be found in any genus of things, as we have proved above,¹ nor does it follow from this that there is any composition in him, as was also shown above.² Now the greatest among the perfections of things is that a thing is intellectual, because thereby it is, after a fashion, all things, having in itself the perfection of all.³ Therefore, God is intelligent.

Moreover. Whatever tends definitely to an end either prescribes that end to itself, or that end is prescribed to it by another, else it would not tend to this end rather than to that. Now natural things tend to definite ends, for they do not pursue their natural purposes by chance, since in that case those purposes would not be realized always or for the most part, but seldom, for such is chance. Since, then, they do not prescribe the end to themselves, for they do not apprehend the notion of end, it follows that the end is prescribed to them by another, who is the author of nature. This is he who gives being to all, and who necessarily exists of himself, whom we call God, as shown above.¹ Now he would be unable to prescribe nature its end unless he were intelligent. Therefore, God is intelligent.

Moreover. Whatever is imperfect originates from something perfect, because the perfect naturally precedes the imperfect, as act precedes potency. Now the forms that exist in particular things are imperfect, since their existence is limited and does not extend to the full universality of their nature. Therefore, they must originate from certain perfect and not limited forms. Now such forms are impossible except as an object of the understanding, since no form is found in a state of universality except in the intellect. Consequently, those forms must be intelligent if they are subsistent, for in no other way can they be operative. Therefore, it follows that God, who is the first subsistent act from which all others derive, is intelligent.

The Catholic faith confesses this truth. For it is said of God: he is wise in heart and mighty in strength (Job 9:4); and: with him are strength and wisdom (Job 12:16); and in the Psalm: your knowledge is become wonderful to me (Ps 139[138]:6); and: O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God (Rom 11:33).

The truth of this belief took such hold on men that they named God from understanding: for Theos, which is the Greek for “God,” is derived from theasthai, which means “to consider” or “to see.”

That God’s act of intelligence is his essence

From the fact that God is intelligent it follows that his act of intelligence is his essence.

For intelligence is the act of an intelligent being, existing within that being and not passing on to something outside of it, as heating passes into the thing heated: for the intelligible suffers nothing through being understood, but the one who understands is perfected. Now, whatever is in God is the divine essence.¹ Therefore, God’s act of intelligence is the divine essence, the divine existence, and God himself, since God is his essence and his existence.²

Moreover. Second act is more perfect than first act, for example, as consideration is more perfect than knowledge. Now God’s knowledge or intellect is his very essence if he is intelligent, as shown above,¹ since no perfection belongs to him by participation, but by essence, as already proved.² If, therefore, his act of consideration be not his essence, something will be more noble and perfect than his essence. And thus he will not be in the summit of perfection and goodness,³ and consequently he will not be first.

Again. Intelligence is the act of the intelligent. If, then, God, being intelligent, is not his act of intelligence, he must be compared to it as potency to act, and so there will be potency and act in God, which is impossible, as we have proved above.¹

Again. Every substance is for the sake of its operation. If, therefore, God’s operation is other than the divine substance, his end will be other than himself. And thus God will not be his own goodness, since the good of a thing is its end.¹

If, however, God’s act of intelligence is his existence, his act of intelligence must be simple, eternal, unchangeable, existing only in act, and all those things which have been proved about the divine existence. Therefore, God is not in potency to intelligence, nor does he begin to understand a thing anew, nor is his act of intelligence subject to any change or composition whatsoever.

That God understands by nothing else than his essence

From what has been proved above it is made evident that the divine intellect understands by no other intelligible species but the divine essence.

For the intelligible species is the formal principle of the intellectual operation, even as the form of every agent is the principle of that agent’s proper operation. Now, the intellectual operation of God is his essence, as we have shown.¹ Therefore, something else would be the principle and cause of the divine essence, if the divine intellect understood by some intelligible species other than his essence, and this is in contradiction with what has been shown above.²

Again. The intellect is made actually intelligent by the intelligible species, just as sense is made actually sentient by the sensible species. Hence the intelligible species is compared to the intellect as act to potency. And consequently if the divine intellect were to understand by a species other than itself, it would be in potency with respect to something: and this is impossible, as we have proved above.¹

Moreover. An intelligible species that is other than the essence of the intellect in which it is has an accidental being: for which reason our knowledge is reckoned among the accidents. Now, there can be no accident in God, as proved above.¹ Therefore, there is no species in his intellect besides the divine essence.

Further. An intelligible species is the image of something understood. Therefore, if there be an intelligible species besides its essence in the divine intellect, it will be the image of something understood. Either, therefore, it will be the image of the divine essence or of some other thing. But it cannot be the image of the divine essence: for then the divine essence would not be intelligible by itself, and this species would make it intelligible. Nor again can there be in the divine intellect a species distinct from its essence and representative of some other thing. For this image would be imprinted on it by something. Not, however, by the divine intellect itself, because then the same thing would be agent and patient, and there would be an agent which imprints not its own but another’s image on the patient, and thus not every agent would produce its like. Nor again by another, for then there would be an agent prior to the divine intellect. Therefore, there cannot possibly be in it an intelligible species besides its essence.

That God understands himself perfectly

It is furthermore clear from the above that God understands himself perfectly.

For, since the intellect is directed by the intelligible species to the thing understood, the perfection of intellectual operation depends on two things. One is that the intelligible species be perfectly conformed to the thing understood. The other is that it be perfectly united to the intellect; and this is all the more so according as the intellect is endowed with greater efficacy in understanding. Now, the divine essence, which is the intelligible species by which the divine intellect understands, is absolutely the same as God himself, and is altogether identified with his intellect. Therefore, God understands himself most perfectly.

Further. A material thing is made intelligible by being abstracted from matter and from material conditions. Therefore, that which by its nature is severed from matter and from material conditions is intelligible by its very nature. Now, every intelligible is understood according as it is actually one with the intelligent, and God is himself intelligent, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, since he is altogether immaterial, and is absolutely one with himself, he understands himself most perfectly.

Again. A thing is actually understood through the unification of the intellect in act and the intelligible in act. Now the divine intellect is always intellect in act, since nothing is in potency and imperfect in God. And God’s essence is by itself perfectly intelligible, as shown above. Since, then, the divine intellect and the divine essence are one, as stated above,¹ it is evident that God understands himself perfectly, for God is both his own intellect and his own essence.

Moreover. Whatever is in anyone in an intelligible manner is understood by him. Now the divine essence is in God in an intelligible manner, for God’s natural being and his intelligible being are one and the same, since his being is his act of intelligence.¹ Therefore, God understands his essence. Therefore, he understands himself, since he is his very essence.

Further. The acts of the intellect, as of the other powers of the soul, are distinguished according to their objects. Hence the more perfect the intelligible, the more perfect will the operation of the intellect be. Now the most perfect intelligible is the divine essence, since it is the most perfect act and the first truth. And the operation of the divine intellect is also the most excellent, since it is the divine being itself, as we have shown.¹ Therefore, God understands himself.

Again. All the perfections of things are found eminently in God.¹ Now among other perfections found in created things, the greatest is that of understanding God, for the intellectual nature whose perfection it is to understand is preeminent among the others: and God is the most excellent intelligible. Therefore, God understands himself most of all.

This is confirmed by divine authority. For the Apostle says that the Spirit searches even the depths of God (1 Cor 2:10).

That God knows only himself first and essentially

From the foregoing it follows that God first and essentially knows himself alone.

For that thing alone is known first and essentially by whose species the intellect understands, because the operation is proportionate to the form which is the principle of the operation. Now, that by which God understands is nothing else than his essence, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, that which is understood by him first and essentially is nothing else than himself.

Again. It is impossible to understand simultaneously several things first and essentially, since one operation cannot terminate simultaneously in several things. Now God understands himself sometimes, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, if he understands something else by way of an object understood first and essentially, it follows that his intellect is changed from consideration of himself to consideration of that thing. But this thing is less excellent than he. Therefore, the divine intellect would be changed for the worse, which is impossible.

Moreover. The operations of the intellect are distinguished in relation to their objects. If, therefore, God understands himself and something other than himself as principal object, he will have several intellectual operations. Therefore, either his essence will be divided into several parts, or he will have an intellectual operation that is not his substance, both of which have been proved to be impossible.¹ Therefore, it follows that nothing is known by God as understood first and essentially, except his essence.

Again. The intellect, insofar as it is distinct from the object of its intelligence, is in potency in its regard. If, then, something else is understood by God first and essentially, it will follow that he is in potency in respect of something else: and this is impossible, as we have shown above.¹

Moreover. The knowledge of one who understands is the product of many things understood. Accordingly, if many things are known by God as known principally and essentially, it follows that God’s knowledge is composed of many: and thus either God’s essence will be composite, or knowledge will be accidental to God. But either of these is clearly impossible from what has been said.¹ It remains, therefore, that that which is understood by God first and essentially is nothing else than his substance.

Further. The intellectual operation takes its species and excellence from that which is understood first and essentially, since this is its object. If, therefore, God understood a thing other than himself, as though it were understood first and essentially, his intellectual operation would derive its species and excellence from that which is other than himself. But this is impossible, since his operation is his essence, as we have shown.¹ It is accordingly impossible for that which God understands first and essentially to be other than himself.

That God knows things other than himself

From the fact that God knows himself first and essentially, we must conclude that he knows things other than himself in himself.

For the knowledge of an effect is sufficiently obtained from knowledge of the cause: therefore, we are said to know a thing when we know its cause.¹ Now God by his essence is the cause of being in other things. Since, therefore, he knows his own essence most fully, we must conclude that he knows other things also.

Further. The likeness of every effect preexists somewhat in its cause, since every agent produces its like. Now whatever is in something else is in it according to the mode of the thing in which it is. If, therefore, God is the cause of certain things, since by his nature he is intellectual, the likeness of his effect will be in him intelligibly. Now that which is in a subject intelligibly is understood by it. Therefore, God understands things other than himself in himself.

Moreover. Whoever knows a thing perfectly knows whatever can be said truly of that thing, and whatever is becoming to it by its nature. Now it is becoming to God by his nature to be the cause of other things. Since, then, he knows himself perfectly, he knows that he is a cause, and this is impossible unless he knows his effect somewhat. Now this is something other than himself, for nothing is cause of itself. Therefore, God knows things other than himself.

Accordingly, taking these two conclusions together,¹ it is evident that God knows himself as the first and essential object of his knowledge, and other things as seen in his essence.

This truth is explicitly declared by Dionysius as follows: he looks upon singulars not by casting his eye on each one, but he knows all things as one, contained in their cause; and further on: divine wisdom knows other things by knowing itself (On the Divine Names, 7).

Moreover, the authority of Sacred Scripture is seen to bear witness to the same statement. For in the Psalm it is said of God: he looked down from his holy height (Ps 102:19[101:20]), as though he saw other things from his exalted self.

That God has proper knowledge of all things

Since, however, some¹ have said that God has none but a universal knowledge of other things (in the sense that he knows them as beings through knowing the nature of being from his knowledge of himself) it remains to be shown that God knows all other things as distinct from one another and from God. This is to know things by their proper ideas.

In evidence of this let us suppose that God is the cause of every being, which is clear to a certain extent from what has been said above¹ and will be more fully proved further on.² Accordingly, then, there can be nothing in a thing without its being caused by him indirectly or directly. Now if the cause be known, its effect is known. Therefore, all that is in anything whatsoever can be known if God be known as well as all the causes between God and that thing. Now God knows himself and all the causes between him and any thing whatever. For it has been shown already that he knows himself perfectly.³ And through knowing himself he knows whatever proceeds from him immediately. Again, through knowing this, he knows whatever proceeds from it immediately, and so on as regards every intervening cause until the ultimate effect. Therefore, God knows whatever is in a thing. Now this is to have proper and complete knowledge of a thing, namely, to know whatever is in a thing, whether common or proper. Therefore, God has proper knowledge of things according as they are distinct from one another.

Further. Whatever acts by intellect has knowledge of what it does as regards the proper idea of the thing done, because the knowledge of the doer appoints the form to the thing done. Now God is cause of things by his intellect, since his being is his act of intelligence, and every thing acts insofar as it is actual. Therefore, he knows his effect properly, according as it is distinct from others.

Moreover. The distinction of things cannot arise from chance, for it has a fixed order. Hence it follows that the distinction among things proceeds from the intention of some cause. But it cannot proceed from the intention of a cause that acts from natural necessity, because nature is determined to one thing, so that nothing that acts from natural necessity can have an intention in relation to several things considered as distinct from one another. It remains, therefore, that the distinction among things arises from the intention of a cause endowed with knowledge. Now it would seem proper to an intellect to consider the distinction among things: and hence Anaxagoras¹ declared that an intellect was the principle of distinction. But taken as a whole, the distinction of things cannot proceed from the intention of any second cause, since all such causes are included in the universality of distinct effects. Therefore, it belongs to the first cause, which is of itself distinct from all others, to intend the distinction among all things. Therefore, God knows things as distinct.

Again. Whatsoever God knows, he knows most perfectly, for in him are all perfections as in that which is simply perfect, as shown above.¹ Now that which is known only in general is not known perfectly, since the chief things belonging to it are ignored, namely, its ultimate perfections by which its own being is perfected. Thus by such knowledge as this a thing is known potentially, rather than actually. Accordingly, if God, by knowing his essence, knows all things in general, it follows that he has also proper knowledge of things.

Further. Whoever knows a nature knows the accidents of that nature in itself. Now the accidents of being in itself, as being, are one and many, as is proved in Metaphysics 4.¹ Therefore, if God, by knowing his essence, knows the nature of being in general, it follows that he knows multitude. Now multitude is inconceivable without distinction. Therefore, he understands things as distinct from one another.

Moreover. Whoever knows perfectly a universal nature knows the mode in which that nature can be had: thus he who knows whiteness knows that it is susceptive of increase and decrease. Now the various degrees of being result from various modes of being. Therefore, if God by knowing himself knows the universal nature of being—and this not imperfectly, since all imperfection is far removed from him, as we have proved above—¹it follows that he knows all the degrees of being: and so he has proper knowledge of things other than himself.

Again. Whoever knows a nature knows whether that nature is communicable: for one would not know the nature of an animal perfectly unless one knew that it is communicable to several. Now the divine nature is communicable according to likeness. Therefore, God knows in how many ways a thing can be like his essence. But the diversity of forms arises from the different ways in which things reflect the divine essence: therefore, the Philosopher calls a natural form a godlike thing.¹ Therefore, God has knowledge of things in reference to their proper forms.

We are also taught this by the authority of canonical Scripture: for it is stated: God saw all the things that he had made and they were very good (Gen 1:31); and: before him no creature is hidden, but all are open and laid bare to his eyes (Heb 4:13).

Reasons for inquiring how there is a multitude of things understood in the divine intellect

Lest, however, from the fact that God understands many things, we be led to conclude that there is composition in the divine intellect, we must examine in what way the things he understands are many.

Now, they cannot be understood to be many as though the many things God understands had a distinct being in him. For these understood things would either be the same as the divine essence, and thus we should have multitude in the essence of God, which has been disproved above¹ in many ways, or else they would be added to the divine essence, and thus there would be something accidental in God, and this again we have proved above to be impossible.²

Nor again can it be admitted that these intelligible forms exist in themselves, as Plato, in order to avoid the above impossibilities, seems to have maintained by holding the existence of Ideas.¹ For the forms of natural things cannot exist apart from matter, since neither are they understood without matter.

And even if the above supposition were admissible, it would not suffice to explain how God understands many things. For, since the aforesaid forms are outside the essence of God, if God were unable without them to understand the multitude of things (as is requisite for the perfection of his intellect), it would follow that the perfection of his understanding depends on something else. Consequently also the perfection of his being, since his being is his act of intelligence, the contrary of which has been shown above.¹

Again. Since all that is beside his essence is caused by him, as we shall prove further on,¹ it must be that if the aforesaid forms are outside God, they are caused by him. Now he is the cause of things by his intellect, as we shall show further on.² Therefore, in order that these intelligible forms may exist, it is required that previously in the order of nature God should understand them. And consequently, God does not understand multitude through the fact that many intelligible things exist outside him in themselves.

Again. The intelligible in act is the intellect in act, even as the sensible in act is the sense in act.¹ But so far as the intelligible is distinct from the intellect, both are in potency, as appears in the senses: for neither is the sight actually seeing, nor the visible actually seen, except when the sight is informed by the species of the visible object, so that one thing results from sight and visible. Accordingly, if the intelligible objects of God are outside his intellect, it will follow that his intellect is in potency, and likewise his intelligible objects: and thus he will need something to reduce him to act. But this is impossible, since this thing would be prior to him.

Continuation of the foregoing

From these very same reasons it appears that the multitude of the aforesaid intelligibles cannot be said to be in something beside the divine intellect, either that of the soul, or that of an angel or intelligence.

For in that case the divine intellect, in respect of one of its operations, would depend on some secondary intellect, which also is impossible.

Just as things that subsist in themselves are from God, so are those that exist in a subject. Therefore, the existence of the aforesaid intelligibles in some secondary intellect presupposes God’s act of intelligence through which he is their cause.

It would also follow that God’s intellect is in potency, since his intelligibles would not be united to him.

Just as each thing has its proper being, so does it have its proper operation. Thus it is impossible that because one intellect is disposed to operate, another exercises intellectual operation, but only that same intellect where we find the disposition, even as a thing is by its own essence and not by another’s. Hence it does not become possible for the first intellect to understand multitude, through the fact that many intelligibles are in some second intellect.

The foregoing doubt may be easily solved if we examine carefully how things understood are in the understanding.

And in order that, as far as possible, we may proceed from our intellect to the knowledge of the divine intellect, it must be observed that the external objects which we understand do not exist in our intellect according to their own nature, but it is necessary that our intellect contain their species by which it becomes intellect in act. And being in act by this species, as by its proper form, it understands the object itself. And yet the act of understanding is not an act passing into the intellect, as heating passes into the object heated, but it remains in the one who understands, although it bears a relation to the object understood, for the very reason that the aforesaid species, which is the formal principle of intellectual operation, is the image of that object.

Moreover, it must be observed that the intellect, informed by the species of the object, by understanding forms in itself some intention of the understood object, which is this notion of the object, signified by its definition. This indeed is necessary, since the intellect understands indifferently a thing absent or present, and in this point agrees with the imagination. Yet the intellect has this besides: it understands a thing as separate from material conditions, without which it does not exist in reality; and this is impossible unless the intellect forms for itself the aforesaid intention.

Now this understood intention, since it is the term, so to speak, of the intellectual operation, is distinct from the intelligible species which makes the intellect in act, and which we must look upon as the principle of the intellectual operation (although each is an image of the object understood). It is because the intelligible species (which is the form of the intellect and the principle of understanding) is the image of the external object that the intellect in consequence forms an intention like that object: for such as a thing is, such is the effect of its operation. And since the understood intention is like a particular thing, it follows that the intellect, by forming this intention, understands that thing.

On the other hand, the divine intellect understands by no species other than his essence, as we have proved.¹ And yet his essence is the likeness of all things.² Therefore, it follows from this that the concept of the divine intellect, according as he understands himself, which concept is his word, is the likeness not only of God himself understood, but also of all things of which the divine essence is the likeness. Accordingly, God can understand many things by one intelligible species, which is the divine essence, and by one understood intention, which is the divine word.

How the divine essence, though one and simple, is a proper likeness of all things intelligible

And yet it may seem to someone difficult or impossible that the one and same simple thing, such as God’s essence, be the proper type or likeness of diverse things.

For, since the distinction of diverse things arises from their proper forms, that which by reason of its proper form is like one of them must be unlike another. Whereas, so far as diverse things have something in common, nothing hinders them from having one likeness, for instance, a man and an ass, inasmuch as they are animals. Hence it would follow that God has not proper but common knowledge of things, because the operation of knowledge follows according to the mode by which the thing known is in the knower, even as heating follows the mode of heat, for the likeness of the thing known in the knower is as the form by which a thing acts. Therefore, if God has proper knowledge of many things it follows that he is himself the proper type of each. How this may be, we must investigate.

As the Philosopher says in Metaphysics 8,¹ forms of things, and their definitions which signify them, are like numbers. For in numbers, if one unit be added or subtracted the species of the number is changed, as appears in the numbers 3 and 4. Now it is the same with definitions, for the addition or subtraction of one difference changes the species: thus a sensible substance minus “rational” and plus “rational” differs specifically.

Now in things which include many, it is not the same with the intellect as with nature. For the nature of a thing does not allow of the separation of those things that are required essentially for that thing: thus the nature of an animal will not remain if the soul be taken away from the body. But the intellect is sometimes able to take separately those things which are essentially united, when one is not included in the notion of the other. Thus in the number 3, it can consider the number 2 alone, and in a rational animal it can consider that which is only sensible. Hence the intellect is able to consider that which includes several things as the proper notion of several, by apprehending one of them without the others. For it can consider 10 as the proper notion of 9, by subtracting one unit, and in like manner as the proper notion of each lesser number included in it. Again, in man, it can consider the proper type of an irrational animal as such, and of each of its species, unless they imply the addition of a positive difference.

For this reason a certain philosopher, Clement by name, said that the things of higher rank are the types of those of lesser rank.¹

Now the divine essence contains the excellences of all beings, not indeed by way of composition, but by way of perfection, as we have shown above.¹ And every form, whether proper or common, so far as it is something positive, is a perfection, nor does it include imperfection except insofar as it falls short of true being. Therefore, God’s intellect can include within his essence that which is proper to each thing by understanding in what each thing imitates his essence, and in what it falls short of his essence: for instance, by understanding his essence as imitable in respect of life and not of knowledge, it understands the proper form of a plant, or again as imitable in respect of knowledge but not of intellect, it understands the proper form of an animal, and so on. Hence it is clear that the divine essence, inasmuch as it is absolutely perfect, may be taken as the proper type of such thing. Hence God can have proper knowledge of all things through it.

Since, however, the proper notion of one thing is distinct from the proper notion of another, and since distinction is the principle of plurality, we must consider a certain distinction and plurality of understood notions in the divine intellect, insofar as that which is in the divine intellect is the proper notion of diverse things. Therefore, since this is according as God understands the proper relation of similarity which each creature bears to him, it follows that the types of things in the divine intellect are not many nor different, except insofar as God knows that things can be like him in many and diverse ways.

In this sense, Augustine says¹ that God makes man after one type and a horse after another, and that the types of things are manifold in the divine mind.

Also, by this the opinion of Plato holds good, in that he held the existence of ideas according to which all that exists in material things would be formed.¹

That God understands all things at the same instant

From the foregoing it is also made evident that God understands all things at the same instant.

For our intellect is unable actually to understand several things simultaneously because, since the intellect in act is the thing understood in act,¹ if it were to understand actually several things at the same time, it would follow that the intellect is simultaneously several things according to one genus, which is impossible. And I say “according to one genus” because nothing hinders the same subject receiving different forms of different genera, even as the one body receives shape and color.

Now, the intelligible species by which the intellect is informed (with the result that the things themselves are actually understood) are all of one genus. For they have one essential nature, although the things of which they are the species do not agree in one essential nature; hence neither are they contrary to one another as are the things outside the mind. Thus it is that, when we consider a certain number of things in any way united together, we understand them at the same time: for we understand a continuous whole simultaneously, and not part by part. In like manner, we understand a proposition, and not the subject first and the predicate afterwards, because we know all the parts by one species of the whole.

From this we may gather that whatever number of things are known by one species, they can be understood simultaneously. Now all that God knows, he knows by one species which is his essence.¹ Therefore, he can understand all things simultaneously.

Again. The cognitive power does not know a thing unless the intention be there: thus at times we do not actually imagine the phantasms preserved in the organ, because the intention is not directed to them, for in voluntary agents, the appetite moves the other powers to act. Hence we do not consider simultaneously a number of things if the intention be not directed to them simultaneously, and those things that must come under one intention must be understood simultaneously, since he who considers the comparison between two things directs his intention simultaneously to both, and considers both at the same time.

Now all those things that are in the divine knowledge must come under one intention. For God intends to see his essence perfectly, and this is to see it according to its whole power under which all things are comprised. Therefore, God, in seeing his essence, sees all things simultaneously.

Moreover. The intellect of one who considers many things in succession cannot possibly have only one operation: for, since operations differ according to their objects, the operation by which the intellect considers the first thing must be distinct from that by which it considers the second. But the divine intellect has only one operation, which is its essence, as proved above.¹ Therefore, it considers all that it knows not successively, but simultaneously.

Further. Succession is inconceivable apart from time, and time apart from movement, since time is the measure of movement according to before or after.¹ Now no movement is possible in God, as may be gathered from what has been said above.² Therefore, in God’s thought there is no succession: consequently, whatever he knows, he considers simultaneously.

Again. God’s act of understanding is his very being, as shown above.¹ Now there is no before and after in the divine being, but it is all simultaneously, as proved above.² Therefore, neither is there before and after in God’s thought, but he understands all things simultaneously.

Sacred Scripture bears witness to this truth: for it is said that with God there is no variation or shadow due to change (Jas 1:17).

That God’s knowledge is not a habit

From the foregoing it follows that God’s knowledge is not a habit.

For wherever knowledge is habitual, all things are not known simultaneously, but some actually and others habitually. Now God knows all things actually in the same instant, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, in him knowledge is not a habit.

Again. The essence of any intellect that knows something habitually is distinct from its intellectual operation, which is consideration itself, because the intellect that knows something by a habit lacks its operation, but it cannot lack its essence. Now in God his essence is his operation, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, there is no habitual knowledge in his intellect.

Again. The intellect that knows something only habitually is not in its ultimate perfection: hence happiness, which is the best thing of all, is held to be not a habit but an act.¹ Therefore, if God has habitual knowledge through his substance, he will not be universally perfect considered with regard to his substance. And the contrary of this was proved above.²

Moreover. We have shown¹ that he is intelligent by his essence, and not by any intelligible species added to his essence. Now every intellect with a habit understands by some species: for habit is either the ability of the intellect to receive intelligible species by which it becomes actually understanding, or else it is the orderly collection of the species themselves residing in the intellect without complete act, and after a manner that lies between potency and act. Therefore, in him there is no habitual knowledge.

Since, however, the disposition by which one is only habitually considering, willing, or acting is like the disposition of one who sleeps,¹ hence David, in order to remove habitual knowledge from God, says: behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep (Ps 121[120]:4). For the same reason it is said: the eyes of the Lord are ten thousand times brighter than the sun (Sir 23:19), for the sun is always in act shining.

That God’s knowledge is not discursive

Furthermore, we gather from the foregoing that God’s thoughts are not argumentative or discursive.

Our thoughts are argumentative when we pass from one thought to another, as when we reason from principles to conclusions. For a person does not argue or discourse from the fact that he sees how a conclusion follows from its premises, and considers both together: for this happens not by arguing, but by judging of an argument. Even so neither does material knowledge consist in judging of material things. Now, it was shown¹ that God does not consider one thing after another successively as it were, but all things simultaneously. Therefore, his knowledge is not argumentative or discursive, although he understands all discourse and argument.

Again. Anyone who argues views the premises by one consideration and the conclusion by another: for there would be no need after considering the premises to proceed to the conclusion, if by the very fact of considering the premises one were to consider the conclusion also. Now God knows all things by one operation, which is his essence, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, his knowledge is not argumentative.

Moreover. In all discursive knowledge something must be caused, since the premises are, so to speak, the cause of the conclusion; hence a demonstration is described as a syllogism that produces knowledge.¹ But nothing can be caused in the divine knowledge, since it is God himself, as shown above.² Therefore, God’s knowledge cannot be discursive.

Again. Those things which we know naturally are known to us without our discoursing about them, as in the case of first principles. Now knowledge in God cannot be otherwise than natural, nor in fact otherwise than essential; since his knowledge is his essence, as we proved above.¹ Therefore, God’s knowledge is not argumentative.

Again. That which is highest in us is inferior to that which is in God: for the inferior does not touch the superior except in its summit. Now the summit in our knowledge is not reason, but understanding, which is the source of reason. Therefore, God’s knowledge is not argumentative, but purely intellectual.

Moreover. All defect is far removed from God, because he is simply perfect, as proved above.¹ But argumentative knowledge results from an imperfection of the intellectual nature. For what is known through another thing is less known than what is known in itself; nor does the nature of the knower suffice to reach what is known through something else without this thing through which the other is made known. Now in argumentative knowledge, one thing is made known through another, whereas what is known intellectually is known in itself, and the nature of the knower suffices for the knowledge thereof without any means from without. Hence it is clear that reason is a defective intellect, and consequently the divine knowledge is not argumentative.

Again. Without any discourse of reason those things are understood whose species are in the knower: for the sight does not discourse in order to know a stone, the image of which is in the sight. Now the divine essence is the likeness of all things, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, it does not proceed to know a thing by a discourse of reason.

It is also clear how to solve the arguments that would seem to prove the presence of discourse in the divine knowledge. First, because he knows other things through his essence. For it has been proved that this does not involve discoursing, since his essence is related to other things not as the premises to a conclusion, but as species to things known. Second, because some might think it unfitting that God should be unable to argue. For he has the knowledge of arguing as judging, and not as discoursing by arguing.

Sacred Scripture bears witness to this truth which we have proved by reason. For it is said: all are open and laid bare to his eyes (Heb 4:13). Because the things that we know by reasoning are not in themselves naked and open to us, but are opened out and laid bare by reason.

That God does not understand by composition and division

It may also be shown from the same principles that the divine intellect does not understand after the manner of a composing and dividing intellect.

For he knows all things by knowing his essence.¹ Now he does not know his essence by composition and division, since he knows himself as he is, and in him there is no composition.² Therefore, he does not understand by way of a composing and dividing intellect.

Again. Things composed and divided by the intellect are by nature such as to be considered by the intellect apart from one another, for there would be no need of composition and division, if from the very fact that one understood what a particular thing is, one knew what is or is not in that thing. Therefore, if God understands by way of a composing and dividing intellect, it follows that he sees all things not at one glance, but each one separately, and yet we have proved the contrary above.¹

Further. In God there cannot be before and after. Now composition and division come after the consideration of what a thing is, for this consideration is their foundation. Therefore, composition and division are impossible in the divine intellect.

Again. The proper object of the intellect is what a thing is: hence the intellect is not deceived about this except accidentally. But it is deceived about composition and division, just as the senses are always true about their proper objects, but may be deceived about others. Now, in the divine intellect there is nothing accidental, and only what is essential.¹ Hence in the divine intellect there is no composition and division, but only simple apprehension of a thing.

Moreover. The composition of a proposition formed by a composing and dividing intellect exists in the intellect itself, not in the thing that is outside the mind. Therefore, if the divine intellect were to judge after the manner of a composing and dividing intellect, his intellect would be composite. But this is impossible, as shown above.¹

Again. A composing and dividing intellect judges of various things by various compositions, because the composition of the intellect does not go beyond the limits of composition: thus the intellect does not judge that a triangle is a figure by the same composition whereby it judges that man is an animal. Hence, if God considers things by composing and dividing, it follows that his act of understanding is not one only but manifold. And thus again his essence will not be one only, since his intellectual operation is his essence, as we proved above.¹

Yet we must not therefore say that he is ignorant of enunciations. For his essence, since it is one and simple, is the type of all things multiple and composite, so that by it God knows every multitude and composition both of nature and of reason.

Sacred Scripture is in agreement with this. For it is said: my thoughts are not your thoughts (Isa 55:8). And yet it is said in the Psalm: the Lord knows the thoughts of man (Ps 94[93]:11), which manifestly proceed from composition and division of the intellect.

Likewise, Dionysius says: therefore, divine wisdom, by knowing itself, knows all things, the material immaterially, divisible things indivisibly, multitude unitedly (On the Divine Names, 7).

That God is not ignorant of the truth of enunciations

It follows from the foregoing that, although the knowledge of the divine intellect is not like that of a composing and dividing intellect, it is not ignorant of the truth which, according to the Philosopher,¹ is solely about composition and division of the intellect.

For, since the truth of the intellect is the equation of thought and thing, insofar as the intellect asserts that to be which is,¹ and that not to be which is not,² truth in the intellect belongs to that which the intellect asserts, not to the operation by which it asserts. Because the truth of the intellect does not require that the act itself of understanding be equated to the thing, since sometimes the thing is material while the act of understanding is immaterial. But that which the intellect in understanding asserts and knows needs to be equated to the thing, namely, to be in reality as the intellect asserts it to be. Now God, by his simple act of intelligence, in which is neither composition nor division, knows not only the essence of things, but also that which is enunciated about them, as proved above.³ Therefore, that which the divine intellect asserts in understanding is composition or division. Therefore, truth is not excluded from the divine intellect by reason of the latter’s simplicity.

Moreover. When something non-complex is said or understood, the non-complex in itself is neither equal nor unequal to the reality, since equality and inequality imply a comparison, and the non-complex in itself contains no comparison or application to a reality. Thus in itself it cannot be said to be either true or false, but only the complex which contains a comparison between the non-complex and the reality, expressed by composition or division. But the non-complex intellect, by understanding what a thing is, apprehends the quiddity of a thing in a kind of comparison with the thing, since it apprehends it as the quiddity of this particular thing. Hence, although the non-complex itself, or even a definition, is not in itself true or false, nevertheless the intellect that apprehends what a thing is is said to be always true in itself, as stated in On the Soul 3,¹ although it may be accidentally false, insofar as the definition includes complexion either of the parts of the definition with one another, or of the whole definition with the thing defined.² Therefore, a definition, according as it is taken to be the definition of this or that thing as understood by the intellect, will be said to be false either simply, if the parts of the definition do not hold together (as if we were to say “an insensible animal”), or false in its application to this particular thing (as if one were to apply the definition of a circle to a triangle). Hence, though it be granted by an impossibility that the divine intellect knows only non-complex things, it would still be true in knowing its quiddity as its own.

Again. The divine simplicity does not exclude perfection: because in its simple essence it has all the perfections to be found in other things by the aggregation of perfections or forms; as was proved above.¹ Now, our intellect, by apprehending the incomplex, does not as yet reach to its ultimate perfection, since it is still in potency as regards composition and division: even as in natural things simple things are in potency in respect of mixed things, and parts in respect of the whole. Accordingly, God, in respect of his simple act of intelligence, has that perfection of knowledge which our intellect has by both kinds of knowledge, whether of the complex or of the non-complex. Now truth is acquired by our intellect in its perfect knowledge thereof, when it arrives at composition. Therefore, there is truth in God’s mere act of simple intelligence.

Again. Since God is the good of every good, through having in himself all manner of goodness, as we have shown above,¹ the goodness of the intellect cannot be lacking to him. Now truth is the good of the intellect, as the Philosopher declares in Ethics 6.² Therefore, truth is in God.

And this is what is stated in the Psalm: but God is true (Ps 50:6).¹

That God is truth

It follows from what has been said that God himself is truth.

For truth is a perfection of the intelligence or intellectual operation, as stated above.¹ Now God’s act of intelligence is his substance,² and since this very act of intelligence is God’s being, as we have shown,³ it is not made perfect by some additional perfection, but is perfect in itself, just as we have said about the divine being.⁴ It remains, therefore, that the divine substance is truth itself.

Again. Truth is a good of the intellect, according to the Philosopher.¹ Now God is his own goodness, as we have shown.² Therefore, he is also his own truth.

Moreover. Although properly speaking the true is not in things but in the mind, according to the Philosopher,¹ nevertheless sometimes a thing is said to be true, insofar as it attains to the act of its own nature. Hence, Avicenna says in his Metaphysics that the truth of a thing is a property of the nature immutably attached to it,² insofar as that thing is naturally inclined to cause a true estimate of itself, and reflects the type of itself that is in the divine mind. Now God is his own essence. Therefore, whether we speak of the truth of the mind, or of the truth of the thing, God is his own truth.

This is confirmed by the authority of our Lord, who says of himself: I am the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6).

That God is the most pure truth

The foregoing being established it is evident that in God there is pure truth, in which there can be no alloy of falsehood or deception.

For falsehood is incompatible with truth, even as black with white. Now God is not merely true, but is truth itself.¹ Therefore, there can be no falsehood in him.

Moreover. The intellect is not deceived in knowing what a thing is, as neither is the sense about its proper sensible.¹ Now all knowledge of the divine intellect is as the knowledge of one who knows what a thing is, as was proved above.² Therefore, it is impossible that there be error, deception, or falsehood in the divine knowledge.

Again. The higher a cognitive power is, the more universal and the more comprehensive is its proper object: therefore, that which the sight knows accidentally, the common sense or the imagination apprehends as included in its proper object. Now the power of the divine intellect is absolutely supreme in knowledge. Therefore, all things knowable are compared to it as knowable properly and essentially, and not accidentally. But the cognitive power errs not about such things. Therefore, it is impossible for the divine intellect to err about any knowable object.

Moreover. An intellectual virtue is a perfection of the intellect in knowing things. Now the intellect cannot, according to an intellectual virtue, speak false, but always speaks true, because to speak true is the good act of the intellect, and it belongs to virtue to perform a good act.¹ Now the divine intellect is more perfect by its nature than the human intellect is by a habit of virtue, for it is in the summit of perfection.² It remains, therefore, that falsehood cannot be in the divine intellect.

Further. The knowledge of the human intellect is somewhat caused by things; the result being that man’s knowledge is measured by its objects, since the judgment of the intellect is true through being in accordance with things, and not vice versa. Now the divine intellect is the cause of things by its knowledge.¹ Therefore, his knowledge must be the measure of things, even as art is the measure of the products of art, each of which is so far perfect as it accords with art. Hence the divine intellect is compared to things as things to the human intellect. Now falsehood resulting from inequality between man’s mind and things is not in things but in the mind. Therefore, if there were not perfect equality between the divine mind and things, falsehood would be in things, but not in the divine mind. And yet there is no falsehood in things, because as much as a thing has of being, so much has it of truth. Therefore, there is no inequality between the divine intellect and things: nor is any falsehood possible in the divine mind.

Again. As the true is the good of the intellect, so is falsehood its evil,¹ for we naturally desire to know the true and shun to be deceived by the false. Now evil cannot be in God, as was proved above.² Therefore, falsehood cannot be in him.

Hence it is said: but God is true (Rom 3:4); and: God is not man, that he should lie (Num 23:19); and: God is light and in him is no darkness (1 John 1:5).

That the divine truth is the first and supreme truth

From what has been proved it clearly follows that the divine truth is the first and supreme truth.

For the disposition of things in truth is as their disposition in being, according to the Philosopher in Metaphysics 2,¹ and this because truth and being are mutually consequent upon one another, since the true is when that is said to be which is, and that not to be which is not.² Now God’s being is first and most perfect. Therefore, his truth is also first and supreme.

Again. That which belongs to a thing essentially belongs to it most perfectly. Now truth is ascribed to God essentially, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, his truth is the supreme and first truth.

Moreover. That which is the measure in any genus must be the most perfect in that genus; thus all colors are measured by white. Now the divine truth is the measure of all truth. For the truth of our intellect is measured by the thing that is outside the mind, since our intellect is said to be true from the very fact that it accords with the thing. And the truth of a thing is measured according to the divine intellect which is the cause of things, as we shall prove further on.¹ Thus the truth of art-products is measured by the art of the craftsman, for a casket is true when it accords with art. Also, since God is the first intellect and the first intelligible, it follows that the truth of every intellect must be measured by his truth, if each thing is measured by the first in its genus, as the Philosopher teaches in Metaphysics 10.² Hence the divine truth is the first, supreme and most perfect truth.

The arguments of those who would deny to God the knowledge of singulars

Now there are some who endeavor to withhold knowledge of singulars from the perfection of God’s knowledge. In support of their contention, they proceed by seven ways.

The first is from the very nature of singularity.¹ For, since the principle of singularity is signate matter, it seems impossible for singulars to be known by an immaterial power, if all knowledge result from some kind of assimilation. Therefore, in us only those powers which use material organs apprehend singulars (for instance, the imagination, the senses and so on), while our intellect, since it is immaterial, does not know singulars. Much less, therefore, is the divine intellect cognizant of singulars, since it is furthest removed from matter. Hence by no means does it seem possible that God should know singulars.

The second argument¹ is that singulars are not always. Either, therefore, they are always known by God, or they are known at one time and unknown at another. The first is impossible, since about what is not there can be no knowledge, which is always about true things, and things which are not cannot be true. The second is also impossible, because the knowledge of the divine intellect is altogether unchangeable, as we have proved.²

The third argument¹ proceeds from the fact that singulars do not all happen of necessity, but some contingently. Therefore, there can be no certain knowledge about them except when they are. For certain knowledge is that which cannot be deceived, and every knowledge of contingencies, since these are future, can be deceived, because the event may prove the opposite of that to which the mind holds, since if the opposite could not happen, they would be necessary. Therefore, we can have no knowledge of future contingencies, but only a kind of conjectural estimate. Now we must suppose that all God’s knowledge is most certain and infallible, as we have proved above.² Moreover, it is impossible that God begin anew to know something, on account of his unchangeableness, as stated.³ Hence it would seem to follow that he knows not contingent singulars.

The fourth¹ is based on the fact that the will is the cause of certain singulars. Now an effect, until it actually is, cannot be known save in its cause, for only thus can it be before it begins to be in itself. But the movements of the will cannot be known for certain by anyone except the willer in whose power they are. Therefore, it seems impossible for God to have eternal knowledge of such singulars as have their cause in the will.

The fifth¹ proceeds from the infinity of singulars. For the infinite as such is unknown,² because whatever is known is measured in a way by the comprehension of the knower, since measurement is nothing else than a kind of certification of the thing measured. Thus every art rejects the infinite. Now singulars are infinite, at least in potency. Therefore, it seems impossible for God to know singulars.

The sixth¹ proceeds from the pettiness of singulars. For as the excellence of knowledge is gauged by the excellence of its object, so apparently the pettiness of the object conduces to pettiness of knowledge. Now the divine intellect is supremely excellent. Therefore, it is incompatible with its excellence that God should know the most trivial of singulars.

The seventh¹ argues from the presence of evil in certain singulars. For, since the thing known is, in a manner, in the knower, and since evil cannot be in God, as proved above,² it would seem to follow that evil and privation are entirely unknown to God, and known only by an intellect that is in potency, since privation can only be in that which is potential. Hence it follows that God has no knowledge of singulars, in which evil and privation are found.

Order of the things to be said about the divine knowledge

In order to refute this error, and moreover to show the perfection of the divine knowledge, we must carefully seek the truth about each of the aforesaid arguments, so as to disprove whatever is contrary to the truth. In the first place, then, we shall show that the divine intellect knows singulars; second, that it knows things that actually are not; third, that it knows future contingencies with an unerring knowledge; fourth, that it knows the movements of the will; fifth, that it knows infinite things; sixth, that it knows all the most trivial and petty things; seventh, that it knows all evils and privations or defects.

That God knows singulars

Accordingly, we shall prove first that God cannot be lacking in the knowledge of singulars.

For it has been shown¹ that God knows other things inasmuch as he is their cause. Now God’s effects are singular things, because God causes things in the same way as he makes them to be actual; and universals are not subsistent, but have their being only in singulars, as is proved in Metaphysics 7.² Therefore, God knows things other than himself not only in the universal but also in the singular.

Again. As soon as one knows the constituent principles of a thing’s essence, one must know that thing: thus knowledge of the rational soul and of such a body implies knowledge of man. Now the essence of a singular is made up of signate matter and an individual form: thus the essence of Socrates is made up of this particular body and this particular soul, even as the essence of man in general is made up of soul and body, as stated in Metaphysics 7.¹ Therefore, since the latter are included in the definition of man in general, so would the former be included in the definition of Socrates, if he could be defined. Hence whoever has knowledge of matter, and of those things whereby matter is designated, and of the form individualized by matter, cannot lack knowledge of the singular. Now God’s knowledge reaches to matter, individualizing accidents, and forms. For, since his act of understanding is his essence,² it follows that he understands all that is in any way whatever in his essence, in which virtually are all that have being in any way whatever as in their first origin, forasmuch as he is the first and universal principle of being.³ Among these we must include matter and accident, since matter is being in potency, and accident is being in another. Therefore, God lacks not knowledge of singulars.

Moreover. The nature of a genus cannot be known perfectly unless its first differences and proper passions be known: thus the nature of number would not be perfectly known if odd and even were unknown. Now “universal” and “singular” are differences or proper passions of being. Therefore, if God, in knowing his essence, knows perfectly the common nature of being, it follows that he knows perfectly the “universal” and the “singular.” But, just as he would not know the universal perfectly if he knew the intention of universality without knowing the thing in the universal, such as man or animal, so too he would not know the singular perfectly if he knew the nature of singularity without knowing this or that singular thing. Therefore, God must know singulars.

Again. Just as God is his very being, so is he his own act of knowledge, as we have proved.¹ Now from the fact that he is his own being it follows that in him are all the perfections of being as in the first source of being, as we have shown above.² Therefore, it follows that every perfection of knowledge is found in his knowledge, as in the first fount of knowledge. But this would not be if he were lacking in the knowledge of singulars, since the perfection of some knowers consists in this. Therefore, it is impossible for him not to have knowledge of singulars.

Moreover. God’s intellect does not derive its knowledge from things as ours does. Rather is he the cause of things by his knowledge, as we shall prove further on:¹ therefore, his knowledge of other things is after the manner of practical knowledge. Now practical knowledge is not perfect unless it extend to singulars, because the end of practical knowledge is operation, which is about singulars. Therefore, the divine knowledge of other things extends to singulars.

Again. The first movable is moved by a motor that moves by intellect and appetite, as was shown above.¹ Now a motor by intellect cannot cause movement unless it knows the movable as naturally inclined to local movement, and that is as existing here and now, and consequently as a singular. Therefore, the intellect that is the motor of the first movable knows the first movable as a singular. But this motor is either supposed to be God, and thus our point is proved, or else it is something beneath God. And if the intellect of this motor is able by its own power to know a singular which our intellect is unable to know, much more will the divine intellect be able to do so.

Again. The agent is more excellent than the patient and the thing done,¹ as act is more excellent than potency. Therefore, a form of lower degree cannot by its action transmit its likeness to a higher degree, whereas a higher form is able by its action to transmit its likeness to a lower degree. Thus corruptible forms are produced in this lower world by the incorruptible agency of the stars, while a corruptible agency cannot produce an incorruptible form. Now all knowledge is the result of assimilation between knower and known. Yet there is this difference: in human knowledge assimilation is brought about by the action of sensible things on the human cognitive powers, whereas contrariwise in God’s knowledge it arises from the action of the form of the divine intellect on things known. Accordingly, the form of a sensible object, being individualized by its materiality, is unable to transmit the likeness of its singularity to that which is altogether immaterial, and it can only reach those powers which use material organs. However, it is transmitted to the intellect by virtue of the active intellect insofar as it is wholly stripped of material conditions: and so the likeness of the singularity of a sensible form cannot reach as far as the human intellect. But the likeness of the form in the divine intellect, since it extends to the smallest details to which his causality extends, reaches to the singularity of a sensible and material form. Therefore, the divine intellect can know singulars, whereas the human intellect cannot.

The truth which we have established is confirmed by the authority of Sacred Scripture. For it is written: before him no creature is hidden (Heb 4:13). The contrary error is rejected: do not say, ‘I shall be hidden from the Lord, and who from on high will remember me?’ (Sir 16:16).

From what we have said it is also clear how the objection¹ raised in the contrary sense does not rightly conclude. For that by which the divine intellect understands, although immaterial, is nevertheless the likeness of both the matter and the form, as the first productive principle of both.

That God knows the things that are not

In the next place we must show that God does not lack the knowledge of things that are not.

For, as stated above,¹ the divine knowledge stands in the same relation to the things known as things knowable to our knowledge. Now the comparison of the thing knowable to our knowledge is that the knowable thing may exist without our having knowledge of it (as the Philosopher in the Categories² gives the example of squaring the circle), but not conversely. Therefore, the relation of the divine knowledge to things must be such that it can also relate to nonexistent things.

Again. The knowledge of God’s intellect stands in the same relation to other things as the knowledge of a craftsman to the works of his craft, since he is cause of things by his knowledge.¹ Now the craftsman, by the knowledge of his art, knows even those things which are not yet produced by his art, since the forms of his art pass from his knowledge into external matter so as to produce the works of his art. Consequently, nothing prevents forms which have not yet materialized outwardly from being in the craftsman’s knowledge. Therefore, nothing prevents God from having knowledge of things that are not.

Moreover. Our intellect, in respect of the operation by which it knows what a thing is, can have knowledge of those things also that are not actually, since it is able to comprehend the essence of a lion or horse, even if all such animals were slain. Now the divine intellect knows, as one who knows what a thing is, not only definitions but also enunciations, as shown above.¹ Therefore, it can have knowledge of those things also that are not.

Again. An effect can be foreknown in its cause even before it exists, just as an astronomer foreknows a future eclipse by observing the order of the heavenly movements. Now God’s knowledge is of all things through their cause: for by knowing himself, who is the cause of all, he knows other things as his effects, as we proved above.¹ Nothing, therefore, prevents him from also knowing those things that are not yet.

Moreover. There is no succession in God’s act of understanding, any more than there is in his existence.¹ Hence it is all at once everlasting, which belongs to the essence of eternity,² whereas the duration of time is drawn out by the succession of before and after. Therefore, the proportion of eternity to the whole duration of time is as the proportion of the indivisible to the continuous, not indeed of the indivisible that is the term of the continuous, and is not present to each part of the continuous—for such is likened to an instant of time—but of the indivisible that is outside the continuous, and yet synchronizes with each part of the continuous, or with each point of a signate continuous. For, since time does not exceed movement, eternity is altogether outside time, being utterly outside movement.

Again, since the being of the eternal never fails, eternity synchronizes with every time or instant of time. Somewhat of an example of this may be seen in the circle: for a given point in the circumference, although indivisible, does not coincide in its position with any other point, since the order of position results in the continuity of the circumference; while the center which is outside the circumference is directly opposite any given point in the circumference. Accordingly, whatever exists in any part of time is coexistent with the eternal as though present to it, although in relation to another part of time it is present or future. Now a thing cannot be present to, and coexistent with, the eternal, except in its entirety, since this has no successive duration. Therefore, whatever happens throughout the whole course of time is seen as present by the divine intellect in its eternity. And yet that which is done in some part of time was not always in existence. It remains, therefore, that God has knowledge of those things which are not as yet in relation to the course of time.

By these arguments it is made clear that God has knowledge of non-beings. Nevertheless non-beings have not all the same relation to his knowledge.

For those things which neither are, nor shall be, nor have been, are known by God as possible to his power. Therefore, he knows them not as existing in themselves in any way, but as merely existing in the divine power. Such things are said by some to be known to God according to his knowledge of simple intelligence.

On the other hand, things which to us are present, past, or future, are known to God as being not only in his power, but also in their respective causes, and in themselves. Of such things God is said to have knowledge of vision, because God sees the existence of things which, in relation to us, are not as yet, not only in their causes but also in themselves, inasmuch as his eternity is by its indivisibility present to all time.

Yet God knows every manner of a thing’s being by his essence. For his essence is capable of being represented by many things that neither are, nor shall be, nor have been. Moreover, effects preexist in their causes in respect of the likeness of any cause’s power. And the being that every single thing has in itself is drawn as a copy from him.

Therefore, God knows non-beings insofar as they have being after a fashion, either in the divine power, or in their causes, or in themselves. And this is not contrary to the essential conditions of knowledge.

The authority of Sacred Scripture also bears witness to the foregoing. For it is written: before the universe was created, it was known to the Lord, our God; so it was also after it was finished (Sir 23:20); and: before I formed you in the womb I knew you (Jer 1:5).

It is clear from what has been said that we are not compelled to say, as some have said, that God knows all singulars universally, because he knows them in their universal causes only, even as one who knows a particular eclipse not as this particular one, but as resulting from opposition, since it has been proved¹ that the divine knowledge extends to singulars as existing in themselves.

That God knows future contingent singulars

From the foregoing it is already somewhat evident that from eternity God has had unerring knowledge of singular contingencies, and that nevertheless they do not cease to be contingent.¹

For contingency is not incompatible with certainty of knowledge except insofar as it is future, and not as it is present. For a contingency, while future, may not be; so that the knowledge of one who thinks it will be may be wrong, and it will be wrong if what he thinks will be, will not be. From the moment, however, that it is, for that time it cannot not-be, although it may not be in the future (but this affects the contingency not as present, but as future). Hence sense loses nothing of its certainty when it sees that a man is running, although this statement is contingent. Accordingly, all knowledge that bears on a contingency as present can be certain. Now the vision of the divine intellect from eternity sees each thing that happens in time as though it were present, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, it follows that nothing prevents God having unerring knowledge of contingencies from eternity.

Again. The contingent differs from the necessary according as each is in its cause: for the contingent is in its cause in such a way that it may or may not result from it, whereas the necessary cannot but result from its cause. But according as each of them is in itself, they do not differ as to being, on which the true is founded, because, considered as it is in itself, there is not being and non-being in the contingent, but only being, although it is possible for the contingent not to be in the future. Now the divine intellect knows things from eternity not only as to the being which they have in their causes, but also as to the being which they have in themselves.¹ Therefore, nothing prevents it having eternal and unerring knowledge of contingencies.

Moreover. Even as the effect follows certainly from a necessary cause, so does it from a complete contingent cause unless it be hindered. Now, since God knows all things, as was proved above,¹ he knows not only the causes of contingencies, but also that which may possibly hinder them. Therefore, he knows certainly whether contingencies be or not.

Again. An effect does not happen to exceed its cause, but sometimes it falls short of it. Hence, since in us knowledge is caused from things, it happens at times that we know necessary things not by way of necessity, but of probability. Now, just as with us things are the cause of knowledge, so the divine knowledge is the cause of the things known.¹ Nothing, therefore, prevents things of which God has necessary knowledge from being contingent in themselves.

Again. God’s knowledge would not be true and perfect if things did not happen in the same way as God knows them to happen. Now God, since he is cognizant of all being, of which he is the source, knows each effect not only in itself, but also in its relation to every one of its causes. But the relation of contingencies to their proximate causes is that they result from them contingently. Therefore, God knows that certain things happen and that they happen contingently. Therefore, the certainty and truth of the divine knowledge do not take away the contingency of things.

It is, therefore, clear from what has been said how we are to refute the objection¹ against God’s knowledge of contingencies. For change in that which is subsequent does not argue changeableness in that which precedes, since it happens that contingent ultimate effects result from necessary first causes. Now the things known to God do not precede his knowledge, as is the case with us, but are subsequent to it. Therefore, it does not follow that if what is known to God be changeable, his knowledge can err or in any way be changeable. It will, therefore, be a fallacy of consequence if, because our knowledge of changeable things is changeable, we think that this happens in all knowledge.

Again, when we say “God knows” or “knew this future thing,” we imply a kind of middle term between the divine knowledge and the thing known, namely, the time at which the statement is made; with respect to this, what God is said to know is future. But it is not future in relation to the divine knowledge, which, existing in the moment of eternity, is related to all things as though they were present. In relation to that knowledge, if we set aside the time at which the statement is made, there is no saying that the thing is known as nonexistent, so as to allow of the question being raised as to whether it is possible for the thing not to be, but it will be said to be known by God as already seen in its existence. Supposing this, there is no room for the aforesaid question, since what is already, cannot, as regards that instant, not be. The fallacy arises then from the fact that the time at which we speak is coexistent with eternity, as also does past time (which is designated when we say “God knew”): therefore, the relation of past or present to future time is ascribed to eternity, which is altogether inapplicable thereto. The result is a fallacy of accident.

That God knows future contingencies is also proved by the authority of Sacred Scripture. For it is said about the divine wisdom: she knows the things of old and the things to come . . . she has foreknowledge of signs and wonders (Wis 8:8); and: nothing can be hid from his eyes; from everlasting to everlasting he beholds them (Sir 39:19); and: I declared them to you from of old; before they came to pass I announced them to you (Isa 48:5).

That God knows the movements of the will

In the next place we must show that God knows our mind’s thoughts and our secret wills.

For everything, in whatever way it exists, is known by God inasmuch as he knows his essence, as we have shown above.¹ Now being is something in the soul, and something in things outside the soul. Therefore, God knows all these differences of things, and whatever is contained under them. Now the things in the soul are those that are in our will or our thought. It remains, therefore, that God knows what we have in our thoughts and will.

Moreover. God knows other things in knowing his essence in the way that effects are known through their cause being known.¹ Accordingly, by knowing his essence, God knows all the things to which his causality extends. Now this extends to the works of the intellect and will. For, since every thing acts by its form, which gives the thing some kind of being, it follows that the highest source of all being, from which also every form is derived, must be the source of all operation. For the effects of second causes are to be referred in a still higher degree to first causes. Therefore, God knows both the thoughts and the affections of the mind.

Again. Even as his being is first, and consequently the cause of all being, so his act of intelligence is first, and consequently the cause of all intellectual operation. Therefore, just as God, by knowing his being, knows the being of everything, so by knowing his act of intelligence and will he knows every thought and will.

Further. God knows things not only as existing in themselves, but also as existing in their causes, as proved above,¹ for he knows the relation between cause and effect. Now the products of art are in the craftsman through the intellect and will of the craftsman, even as natural things are in their causes through the powers of the causes. For just as natural things liken their effects to themselves by their active powers, so the craftsman by his intellect gives his handiwork the form by which it is likened to his art. It is the same with all things done of set purpose. Therefore, God knows both our thoughts and our wills.

Again. Intelligible substances are no less known to God than sensible substances are known to him or to us, since intelligible substances are more knowable in proportion as they are more actual. Now the informations and inclinations of sensible substances are known both to God and to us. Consequently, since the soul’s thought results from its being informed, and since its affection is its inclination towards something—for even the inclination of a natural thing is called its natural appetite—it follows that God knows our secret thoughts and affections.

This is confirmed by the testimony of Sacred Scripture. For it is said in the Psalm: you who try the minds and hearts are God (Ps 7:9); and: hell and destruction lie open before the Lord: how much more the hearts of men (Prov 15:11); and: he himself knew what was in man (John 2:25).

The dominion which the will exercises over its own acts, and by which it is in its power to will and not to will, removes the determination of the power to one thing, and the violence of a cause acting from without, but it does not exclude the influence of a higher cause from which it has being and action. Thus causality remains in the first cause, which is God, in respect of the movements of the will: so that God is able to know them by knowing himself.

That God knows infinite things

We must next prove that God knows infinite things.

For in knowing that he is the cause of things, he knows things other than himself, as was shown above.¹ Now he is the cause of infinite things, if there be infinite things, since he is the cause of whatever is. Therefore, he knows infinite things.

Again. God knows his own power perfectly, as was proved above.¹ Now, a power cannot be known perfectly unless all the things to which it extends be known, since its quantity is gauged in a manner according to them. But his power, being infinite, as shown above,² extends to infinite things. Therefore, God knows infinite things.

Moreover. If God’s knowledge extends to all things that exist, in whatever way they exist, as was shown,¹ it follows that he knows not only actual being but also potential being. Now in natural things there is the infinite potentially, although not actually, as the Philosopher proves in Physics 3.² Therefore, God knows infinite things, even as unity (which is the principle of number) would know infinite species of numbers if it knew whatever is potentially in it; for unity is every number potentially.

Again. God knows other things in his essence as in a exemplar medium.¹ Now since he is infinitely perfect, as was shown above,² it is possible for an infinite number of things with finite perfections to be copied from him. For it is impossible for any single one, or any number of copies, to equal the example of their exemplar: and thus there always remains some new way in which some copy can imitate it. Nothing, therefore, prevents him from knowing infinite things by his essence.

Moreover. According to the Philosopher, in On the Soul,¹ an intellect which knows the supremely intelligible knows the less intelligible not less but more. And the reason for this is that the intellect is not corrupted by the excellence of the intelligible, as the sense is, but is the more perfected. Now if we take an infinite number of beings, whether they be of the same species (like an infinite number of men) or of an infinite number of species (even though some or all of them be infinite in quantity, if this were possible), all of them together would be of less infinity than God: for each one and all together would have being confined and limited to a certain species or genus, and thus would be in some way finite. Therefore, it would fall short from the infinity of God, who is infinite simply, as we proved above.² Since, therefore, God knows himself perfectly,³ nothing prevents him from also knowing that infinite number of things.

Further. The more efficacious and clear an intellect is in knowing, the greater the number of things is it able to know from one, even as every power, the stronger it is, the more united it is. Now the divine intellect is infinite in efficacy or perfection, as was shown above.¹ Therefore, it can know an infinite number of things by one which is his essence.

Again. Since our intellect is cognizant of the infinite in potency (for it is able to multiply the species of numbers indefinitely), if the divine intellect did not also know the infinite in act, it would follow either that our intellect knows more things than the divine intellect knows, or that the divine intellect does not know actually all the things that it knows potentially: and each of these is impossible, as proved above,¹

Further. The infinite is repugnant to knowledge insofar as it is incompatible with being counted: for it is in itself impossible for the parts of the infinite to be numbered, as implying a contradiction. Now the knowledge of a thing by counting its parts belongs to an intellect that knows one part after another in succession, and not to one that understands the various parts together. Since, then, the divine intellect knows things together without succession, it is no more hindered from knowing the infinite than from knowing the finite.

Moreover. All quantity consists in a certain plurality of parts, for which reason number is the first of quantities. Accordingly, where plurality involves no difference, neither does it cause any difference consequent upon quantity. Now, in God’s knowledge, many things are known in the same way as one, since they are known not by various species, but by one, which is God’s essence.¹ Therefore, many things are known by God simultaneously, and consequently plurality makes no difference in God’s knowledge. Neither, therefore, does the infinite which is consequent upon quantity.² Therefore, knowledge, whether of infinite or of finite things, differs not to the divine intellect. And consequently, since it knows finite things, nothing prevents it from knowing also infinite things.

The words of the Psalm are in agreement with this: and of his wisdom there is no number (Ps 147[146]:5).

From the foregoing it is clear why our intellect does not know the infinite as the divine intellect does. For our intellect differs from the divine intellect in four respects, which constitute this difference. In the first place, our intellect is simply finite, but the divine intellect is infinite. Second, our intellect knows different things by different species: therefore, it cannot grasp infinite things by one knowledge, as the divine intellect can. The third difference results from the fact that our intellect, since it knows different things by different species, cannot know many things at the same time, so that it cannot know an infinite number of things except by taking them one after the other. But it is not so in the divine intellect, which considers many things simultaneously, as seen by one species. Fourth, because the divine intellect is about things that are and things that are not, as we proved above.¹

It is also clear in what way the saying of the Philosopher that the infinite, as such, is unknown, is not in contradiction with this statement.¹ For, since, as he says,² the notion of infinity is becoming to quantity, the infinite would be known as such, if it were known by the measuring of its parts, because this is proper knowledge of quantity.³ But God does not know thus. Therefore, so to say, he knows the infinite not as such, but inasmuch as it is finite in comparison with his knowledge, as we have shown.

It must be observed, however, that God does not know infinite things by his knowledge of vision,¹ to use the expression employed by others, because the infinite neither is, nor was, nor will be actual; according to the Catholic faith, generation is not infinite on either part. Yet he knows the infinite by his knowledge of simple intelligence. For God knows the infinite number of things that neither are, nor will be, nor have been, and nevertheless are in the power of a creature. He knows also the infinite things that are in his power, that neither are, nor have been, nor shall be.

Therefore, as regards the question about the knowledge of singulars, we might reply by denying the major premise, for singulars are not infinite. If, however, they were, God would know them nonetheless.

That God knows trivial things

This being established, we must show that God knows trivial things and that this is not inconsistent with the nobility of his knowledge.

For the stronger an active power is, the further does its action extend, as appears even in the action of sensible things. Now, the force of the divine intellect in knowing things is likened to an active power, since the divine intellect knows not by receiving from things, but rather by pouring itself into them. Since, then, it is of infinite power in understanding, as shown above,¹ it follows that its knowledge extends to the most remote things. Now the degrees of nobility and meanness in all beings depend on nearness to and distance from God, who is in the summit of nobility. Therefore, God, on account of the exceeding power of his intellect, knows things even though they be in the last degree trivial.

Moreover. The good of the order in the universe is more noble than any part of the universe, because each part is directed to the good of the order in the whole as to its end, as the Philosopher states in Metaphysics 11.¹ If, then, God knows some other noble nature, most of all must he know the order of the universe. But this cannot be known unless both noble and mean things be known, because the order of the universe consists in their mutual distances and relationships. It follows, therefore, that God knows not only noble things, but also those that are deemed trivial.

Further. The meanness of things known does not of itself reflect on the knower: for it belongs to the nature of knowledge that the knower contains the species of the things he knows according to his mode. And yet the meanness of things known may reflect accidentally on the knower: either because he is withdrawn from the thought of noble things while considering mean things, or because he is inclined to certain undue affections through considering mean things. But this cannot take place in God, as appears from what has been said.¹ Therefore, the knowledge of trivial things is not derogatory to the nobility of God; rather it belongs to his perfection, for as much as he prepossesses all things in himself, as we have shown above.²

Again. A power is accounted little not through being capable of little things, but through being confined to little results, since a power that is capable of great things is also capable of little ones. Accordingly, knowledge that comprises both noble and trivial things is not to be accounted trivial, but only that which comprises none but trivial things, as happens with us: for our thoughts of divine things are distinct from our thoughts of human things, and of each we have a distinct knowledge. Therefore, in comparison with the more noble, the less noble is accounted mean. But it is not thus in God, because he considers all things with the same thought and knowledge.¹ Therefore, no meanness is to be ascribed to his knowledge, on account of his knowing any mean things whatever.

In accord with this is the saying about divine wisdom, that because of her pureness she pervades and penetrates all things . . . and nothing defiled gains entrance into her (Wis 7:24–25).

It is clear from what has been said that the argument put forward in opposition¹ is not incompatible with the truth we have demonstrated. For the nobility of a science depends on the principal object of that science, and not on whatever may come under that science: for with us, not only the highest but also the lowest beings come under the most noble of sciences, for the treatise of metaphysics extends from the first being to potential being, which is the lowest of all beings. Thus then the divine knowledge comprises the lowest beings as being known at the same time with the object known principally, for the divine essence is the principal object of God’s knowledge, and in it he knows all things, as we have shown above.²

It is also evident that this truth is not in contradiction with the statements of the Philosopher in Metaphysics 11. For there he intends to prove that the divine intellect does not know something other than himself (that is, a perfection of his intellect as the principal object of its knowledge). And in this sense he states that it is better not to know mean things than to know them.¹ That is, when knowledge of trivial things is distinct from the knowledge of noble things, and the thought of mean things is an obstacle to the thought of noble things.

That God knows evil things

It remains now to be proved that God knows evil things.

For if a good be known the opposite evil is known. Now God knows all the particular goods to which evils are opposed. Therefore, God knows evil things.

Again. The true is the good of the intellect.¹ For an intellect is said to be good for as much as it knows the true. Now it is not only true that good is good, but also that evil is evil: for just as it is true that what is, is, so is it true that what is not, is not. Hence the good of the intellect consists even in the knowledge of evil. But, since the divine intellect is perfect in goodness,² it cannot possibly lack any intellectual perfection. Therefore, it has the knowledge of evils.

Moreover. God knows the distinction between things, as shown above.¹ Now the notion of distinction includes negation, for when things are distinct, the one is not the other. Hence primaries, which are distinguished by themselves, include mutual negation of one another; and for this reason negative propositions about them are self-evident (for instance, that no quantity is a substance). Therefore, God knows negation. Now privation is negation in a definite subject, as is proved in Metaphysics 4.² Therefore, he knows privation, and consequently evil, which is nothing else than the privation of due perfection.

Again. God knows not only form but also matter, as was proved above.¹ Now matter, since it is being in potency, cannot be known perfectly unless it be known to what its potency extends: and this applies to all kinds of power. But the potency of matter extends to both form and privation: for that which can be, can also not be. Therefore, God knows privation, and consequently he knows evil.

Again. If God knows anything besides himself, most of all he knows that which is best, and this is the order of the universe, to which all particular goods are directed as their end.¹ Now, in the order of the universe there are certain things intended for the removal of harms that might result from certain other things, as evidenced by the means of defense with which animals are provided. Therefore, God knows these harms: and thus he knows evils.

In agreement with this it is written that against God’s wisdom evil does not prevail (Wis 7:30); and that hell and destruction are before the Lord (Prov 15:11). Also in the Psalm it is said: the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you (Ps 69:5[68:6]); and: he knows worthless men; when he sees iniquity, will he not consider it? (Job 11:11).

It must, however, be observed that with regard to the knowledge of evil and privation, there is a difference between the divine intellect and ours.¹ For seeing that our intellect knows each thing by its respective proper and distinct species, it knows that which is in act by an intelligible species, through which the intellect is made actual. Hence it is able to know potency inasmuch as it is sometimes in potency to such a species: and thus just as it knows act by means of act, so it knows potency by means of potency. And since potency belongs to the notion of privation (for privation is a negation whose subject is a being in potency), it follows that it is becoming to our intellect to know privation in some way, inasmuch as it is naturally fitted to be in potency. Although we may also say that the mere knowledge of act leads to the knowledge of potency and privation.

On the other hand, the divine intellect, which is in no way in potency, knows neither privation nor anything else in the above manner.¹ For if he knew anything by a species other than himself, it would follow of necessity that he is compared to that species as potency to act. It follows, therefore, that he understands only by a species that is his essence, and consequently that he understands himself as the first object of his understanding, and yet in understanding himself he understands other things, as shown above,² and not only acts but potentialities and privations.

This is what the Philosopher means when he says in On the Soul:¹ how does it know evil, or black? For it knows contraries² somewhat. And it must know them by a potency that is in itself. But if anything there be in which the contrary is not (namely, in potency), it knows itself, and is in act and separable. Nor is it necessary to admit the explanation of Averroës, who maintains that it follows from the above that the intellect which is pure act does not know a privation at all. But the sense is that it knows privation not through being in potency to something else, but through knowing itself and being always in act.

Again, it must be observed that if God knew himself in such a way that by knowing himself he did not know other beings which are particular goods, he would have no knowledge whatever of privation or evil. For there is no privation contrary to the good that is himself: for a privation and its contrary are naturally adapted to be in relation to the same thing, and so no privation (and therefore no evil) is opposed to that which is pure act. Therefore, supposing God to know himself alone, he would not know evil through knowing the good which is himself. But since by knowing himself he knows things in which there is a natural aptness for privations, it follows of necessity that he knows the opposite privation, and the evils contrary to particular goods.

It must also be observed that, just as God, by knowing himself, knows other things without any discursion of his intellect, as shown above,¹ so too there is no need for his knowledge to be discursive if he knows evil through good. For good is the reason, as it were, of the knowledge of evil, so that evil is known through good, as a thing through its definition, and not as conclusions through their premises.

Nor does it argue imperfection in the divine knowledge if God knows evil through the privation of good, because evil does not indicate being except insofar as it is a privation of good. Therefore, it is knowable in this way alone, since a thing is knowable so far as it has being.

God’s will

That in God there is will

After discussing the matters concerning the knowledge of the divine intellect, it remains for us to consider the divine will.

For, from the fact that there is intelligence in God, it follows that there is will in him. Because, since the good understood is the proper object of the will, it follows that the good understood, as such, is willed. Now “understood” indicates a reference to one who understands. It follows, therefore, of necessity that one who understands good, as such, has a will. Now God understands good: For, since he is perfectly intelligent, as shown above,¹ he understands being simultaneously with the notion of good. Therefore, in him there is will.

Again. Whatever has a form is thereby related to things actually existing: thus white timber, by its whiteness, is like some things and unlike others. Now, in intelligent and sentient subjects there is the form of the thing understood and sensed, because all knowledge is through some likeness. Therefore, there must be a relation in the intelligent or sentient subject to the things understood or sensed, according as the latter actually exist. Now this is not due to the fact that they understand or sense: for in this respect there is rather a relation in things to the intelligent or sentient subject, since intelligence and sensation depend on things being in the intellect and sense according to the respective modes of each. But the sentient and the intelligent subject have by the will and appetite a relation to things outside the mind. Therefore, every sentient and intelligent subject has an appetite and will, although, properly speaking, will is in an intellect. Since, then, God is intelligent, it follows that he has a will.

Moreover. That which is consequent upon every being belongs to being as such, and a thing of this kind must be found especially in the first being. Now, every being desires its own perfection and the preservation of its being. And to each one this is according to its mode: to intelligent beings by will, to animals by sensitive appetite, to those that are devoid of sense by natural appetite. But it is otherwise to those who have it than to those who do not have it: for those who do not have it tend, by the appetitive power of their genus, with desire to acquire what is lacking to them, whereas those who have it are at rest in it. Therefore, this cannot be lacking to the first being, which is God. Since, then, he is intelligent, there is will in him, by which his being and his goodness are pleasing to him.

Again. The more perfect the act of understanding is, the more delightful is it to the one who understands. Now God understands, and his act of understanding is most perfect, as was proved above.¹ Therefore, to understand is to him most delightful. But intellectual delight is by the will, even as sensitive delight is by the appetite of concupiscence. Therefore, there is will in God.

Again. The first of motive powers in intelligent beings is the will, because the will applies every power to its act, for we understand because we will, we imagine because we will, and so forth. And the will has this because its object is the end, although the intellect moves the will—not by way of efficient and moving cause, but by way of final cause—by putting its object before it (which is the end). Therefore, it is especially fitting that the first mover should have a will.

Moreover. The end and the agent intending the end are always of the same order in things: therefore, the proximate end (which is proportionate to the agent) is of the same species as the agent, in works both of nature and of art. For the form of the art whereby the craftsman works is the species of the form that is in matter, and is the end of the craftsman; and the form of the generating fire, whereby the fire acts, is of the same species as the form of the fire generated, which form is the end of the generation.¹ Now, nothing is coordinate with God as though it were of the same order, except God himself, otherwise there would be several first beings, and we have shown the contrary to be the case.² He is, therefore, the first agent intending an end which is himself. Therefore, not only is he a desirable end, but he also desires himself, so to speak, as an end; and, since he is intelligent, he desires himself by intellectual appetite; and this is will. Therefore, in God there is will.

Sacred Scripture bears witness to this will of God. For it is said in the Psalm: whatever the Lord willed, he has done (Ps 134:6); and: who can resist his will? (Rom 9:19).

That God’s will is his essence

It is evident from the foregoing that his will is not distinct from his essence.

For it belongs to God to have a will insofar as he has an intellect, as proved above.¹ Now he is intelligent by his essence, as we have already shown,² and consequently will also is in him by his essence. Therefore, God’s will is his very essence.

Again. Even as to understand is the perfection of one who is intelligent, so to will is the perfection of one who wills, for each is an action abiding in the agent, and not passing into something passive, as heating. Now God’s act of intelligence is his being, as we proved above,¹ because, since God’s being is by itself supremely perfect, it admits of no additional perfection, as we have shown above.² Therefore, the divine willing is also his being. Consequently, God’s will is his essence.

Moreover. Since every agent acts insofar as it is actual, it follows that God, who is pure act, acts by his essence. Now willing is an operation of God. Therefore, it follows that God wills by his essence. Therefore, his will is his essence.

Again. If will were something added to the divine substance, since the divine substance is complete in being it would follow that will would come to him like an accident to its subject; that the divine substance would be compared thereto as potency to act; and that there is composition in God. All of which have been disproved above.¹ It is, therefore, impossible for the divine will to be something in addition to the divine essence.

That the principal object of God’s will is the divine essence

It is also evident from the foregoing that the principal object of God’s will is his essence.

For the good understood is the object of the will, as proved above.¹ Now the principal object of God’s intellect is the divine essence, as we have already proved.² Therefore, the divine essence is the principal object of the divine will.

Again. The appetible object is compared to the appetite as mover to the thing moved, as we have stated above.¹ It is the same with the thing willed in relation to the will, since the will belongs to the genus of appetitive powers. Therefore, if something besides God’s essence were the principal object of God’s will, it would follow that something else is superior to and moves the divine will: and the contrary of this was proved above.²

Again. To every willer the thing willed principally is his last end: for the end is willed by reason of itself, and other things come to be willed by reason of it. Now God is the last end, because he is the highest good, as was proved.¹ Therefore, he is the principal object of his will.

Moreover. Every power is proportionate to its principal object according to equality: for the power of a thing is measured according to its object, as the Philosopher says in On Heaven and Earth.¹ Therefore, the will is proportionate according to equality to its principal object, as well as the intellect and the senses. Now nothing is proportionate according to equality to God’s will, except his essence. Therefore, the principal object of the divine will is the divine essence.

And since the divine essence is God’s act of understanding and everything else that is said to be in God, it is also clear that in the same way God wills principally, to will, to understand, to be one and so forth.

That God in willing himself wills also other things

Hence it may be proved that in willing himself he wills other things also.

For he who wills the end principally wills the means to the end, for the sake of that end. Now God himself is the last end of things, as appears sufficiently from what we have said.¹ Therefore, from the fact that he wills himself to be, he wills also other things that are directed to himself as their end.

Again. Every thing desires the perfection of that which it wills and loves for its own sake, because whatever we love for its own sake, we wish to be best, and ever to be bettered and multiplied as much as possible. Now God wills and loves his essence for its own sake: and it cannot be increased or multiplied in itself, as appears from what has been said.¹ Also, it can only be multiplied in respect of its likeness which is shared by many.² Therefore, God wishes things to be multiplied, because he wills and loves his essence and perfection.

Moreover. Whoever loves a thing in itself and for its own sake loves in consequence all the things in which it is found: thus he who loves sweetness for its own sake must love all sweet things. Now God wills and loves his own being, in itself and for its own sake, as we have proved above.¹ And all other being is a participation by likeness of his being, as was made sufficiently clear by what we have said above.² Therefore, from the very fact that God wills and loves himself, it follows that he wills and loves other things.

Again. God, in willing himself, wills all things that are in him. Now all things preexist in him somewhat by their proper types, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, in willing himself, God wills other things.

Again. As stated above,¹ the greater a thing’s power, to so many more things, and to the greater distance does its causality extend. Now, the causality of an end consists in other things being desired for its sake. Therefore, the more perfect and the more willed an end is, to so many more things does the will of him who wills that end extend by reason of that end. But the divine essence is most perfect considered under the aspect of goodness and end. Therefore, it will extend its causality most of all to many things, so that many be willed for its sake, especially by God, who wills it perfectly with all his might.

This is confirmed by the authority of Sacred Scripture. For it is written: you love all things that exist, and have loathing for none of the things which you have made (Wis 11:25).

That God, by the one act of his will, wills himself and other things

This being proved, it follows that God, by one act of his will, wills himself and other things.

For every power tends by one operation or act to its object and the formal aspect of that object, even as by one vision we see light and color (made visible by light). Now, when we will something solely for the sake of an end, that which is desired for the sake of the end takes its aspect of thing willed from the end; thus the end is compared to it as the formal aspect to an object, as light to color. Since, then, God wills all things for his own sake as for the sake of an end, as we have proved,¹ he wills himself and other things by one act of his will.

Moreover. That which is perfectly known and desired is known and desired with respect to its whole virtue. Now the virtue of an end consists not only in its being desired for its own sake, but also in other things being made desirable for its sake. Therefore, he that desires an end perfectly desires it in both these ways. But it cannot be admitted that God has an act by which he wills himself without willing himself perfectly, since in him there is nothing imperfect.¹ Hence by every act in which God wills himself, he wills himself absolutely, and other things for his own sake. And he does not will things other than himself except because he wills himself, as was proved above.² It follows, therefore, that not by distinct acts but by one and the same act he wills himself and other things.

Again. As appears from what has been said,¹ discursion in the act of the cognitive faculty occurs when we know the premises apart from the conclusions, and draw the conclusions from them. For if we were to see the conclusions in the premises themselves, simply through knowing the premises, there would be no discursion, as neither is there when we see something reflected in a mirror. Now just as the premises are related to the conclusions in speculative matters, so are the ends to the means in practical and appetitive matters, because even as we know conclusions through their premises, so does the end lead us to the appetite and practice of the means.² Accordingly, if a person will the end and the means separately, there will be discursion in his will. But there can be no such thing in God, since he is outside all movement.³ Therefore, it follows that God wills himself and other things simultaneously by the one same act of his will.

Again. Since God always wills himself, if he will himself by one, and other things by another act, it follows that there are two acts of will in him at the same time. But this is impossible, since of one simple power there are not at the one time two operations.

Moreover. God’s willing is his being, as we have proved.¹ But in God there is only one being. Therefore, in him there is but one act of the will.

Again. It is becoming to God to will inasmuch as he is intelligent.¹ Therefore, just as by one act he understands himself and other things, inasmuch as his essence is the exemplar of all things,² so by one act he wills himself and other things, inasmuch as his goodness is the type of all goodness.³

That the multitude of things willed is not inconsistent with the divine simplicity

Hence it follows that the multitude of things willed is not inconsistent with the oneness and simplicity of the divine substance.

For acts are distinguished according to their objects. If, then, the plurality of things willed by God indicated any kind of multitude in him, it would follow that there is not only one operation of the will in him, and this is contrary to what has been proved.¹

Again. It has been shown¹ that God wills other things inasmuch as he wills his goodness. Therefore, things stand in relation to his will for as much as they are comprised in his goodness. Now all things are one in his goodness, because other things are in him according to his mode (material things immaterially and multitude unitedly), as we have shown above.² Hence it follows that the plurality of things willed does not argue plurality in the divine substance.

Moreover. The difference between knowledge and appetite is that knowledge results from the thing known being somehow in the knower, whereas appetite does not; on the contrary, it results from the appetite being referred to the appetible thing, which the appetent seeks and wherein it rests. For this reason good and evil, which regard the appetite, are in things, whereas true and false, which regard knowledge, are in the mind, as the Philosopher states in Metaphysics 6.¹ Now it is not inconsistent with the simplicity of a thing that it be referred to many, since even unity is the principle of the multitude of numbers. Therefore, the multitude of things willed by God is not inconsistent with his simplicity.

That the divine will extends to particular goods

It is also evident from the foregoing that in order to safeguard the divine simplicity we do not have to say that God wills other goods in a kind of universal way, insofar as he wills himself to be the source of the goods which can flow from him, and that he does not will them in particular.

For the act of willing is according to a comparison of the willer to the thing willed. Now the divine simplicity does not forbid God’s being compared to many things, even to particulars: for he is said to be best or first even in comparison with singulars. Therefore, his simplicity is not inconsistent with his willing even special or particular things other than himself.

Again. God’s will is compared to other things inasmuch as they partake of his goodness through being ordered to the divine goodness, which is to God the reason of his willing.¹ Now not only the universe of good things, but also each one of them derives its goodness, as also its being, from the goodness of God. Therefore, God’s will extends to each single good.

Moreover. According to the Philosopher, in the Metaphysics,¹ there is a twofold good of order in the universe: one consisting in the whole universe being directed to that which is outside the universe, just as the army is directed to the general, while the other consists in the parts of the universe being directed to each other, as the parts of an army. The second order is for the sake of the first. Now God, through willing himself as end, wills other things that are directed to him as their end, as we have proved.² Therefore, he wills the good of the order of the whole universe in relation to himself, and the order of the universe as regards the mutual relation of its parts. Now the good of order arises from each single good. Therefore, he wills also singular goods.

Again. The good understood as such is the object of the will.¹ But God understands also particular goods, as we have proved.² Therefore, he also wills particular goods.

This is confirmed by the authority of Scripture, which sets forth the pleasure of the divine will in each work, in the words: God saw that the light was good (Gen 1:4), and in like manner as to each work, and afterwards in reference to all the works: God saw all the things that he had made, and they were very good (Gen 1:31).

That God wills even the things that are not yet

Now if the act of willing is by comparison of the willer to the thing willed, someone might think that God wills only the things that are, since relatives must be simultaneous, and if one cease the other ceases, as the Philosopher teaches.¹ Therefore, if the act of willing is by comparison of the willer to the thing willed, no one can will other things than those which are.

One might conclude further, if God’s willing is unchangeable, just as the divine being, and if he wills nothing but what actually is, that he wills nothing but what always is.

To these arguments some answer that things which are not in themselves are in God and in his intellect. Therefore, nothing prevents God willing things even which are not in themselves, insofar as they are in him.

This reply, however, is seemingly insufficient. For every willer is said to will a thing insofar as his will is referred to the thing willed. Therefore, if the divine will is not referred to a thing willed that is not except insofar as it is in God or in his intellect, it would follow that God wills it merely because he wills it to be in himself or in his intellect. Yet those who make the above statements do not mean this, but that God wills things which as yet are not to be also in themselves.

Again, if the will be referred to the thing willed through its object (which is a good understood) the intellect understands that the good is not only in the intellect itself, but also in its own nature. Also, the will must be referred to the thing willed not only as it is in the knower, but also as it is in itself.

Accordingly, we must say that, since the apprehended good moves the will, the act of willing must follow the condition of the apprehender, even as the movements of other movables follow the condition of the mover which is the cause of the movement. Now the relation of the apprehender to the thing apprehended is consequent upon the apprehension, because the apprehender is referred to the thing apprehended through its apprehension of it. Now the apprehender apprehends the thing not only as it is in the apprehender, but also as it is in its proper nature: for we not only know that a thing is understood by us (which is the same as the thing being in our intellect) but also that it is, or has been, or will be in its proper nature. Therefore, although the thing is then only in the knower, yet the relation consequent upon the apprehension is referred to it not as it is in the knower, but as it is in its proper nature which the apprehender apprehends.

Accordingly, the relation of the divine will is to a nonexistent thing, as it is in its proper nature in reference to a certain time, and not only as in God knowing it. Therefore, God wills the thing that is not now to be in reference to a certain time, and he does not will merely to understand it.

Nor does the comparison hold with the relation of willer to thing willed, nor of Creator to creature, nor of maker to thing made, nor of Lord to the creature subject to him. For to will is an act abiding in the willer: hence it does not necessarily imply anything existing outside. But to make, to create, and to govern denote an action terminating in an external effect, without the existence of which such an action is inconceivable.

That God necessarily wills his being and his goodness

From what has been proved above it follows that God wills necessarily his being and his goodness, and that he cannot will the contrary.

For it has been shown¹ that God wills his being and goodness as principal object, which is the reason of his willing other things. Therefore, in everything willed by him he wills his being and goodness, just as the sight sees light in every color. Now it is impossible for God not to will a thing actually, for he would be only potentially willing, which is impossible, since his willing is his being.² Therefore, it is necessary for him to will his being and his goodness.

Again. Every willer of necessity wills his last end: thus man of necessity wills his own happiness, nor can he will unhappiness. Now God wills himself as last end, as stated above.¹ Therefore, he necessarily wills himself to be, nor can he will himself not to be.

Moreover. The end in matters of appetite and action is as an undemonstrable principle in speculative matters.¹ For just as in speculative matters conclusions are drawn from principles, so in active and appetitive matters the reason of all things to be done or desired is taken from the end. Now, in speculative matters, the intellect necessarily assents to the first undemonstrable principles, to the contraries of which it can in no way assent. Therefore, the will necessarily adheres to the last end, so as to be unable to will the contrary. And thus, if the will of God has no other end than himself,² he necessarily wills himself to be.

Again. All things, inasmuch as they are, are like to God, who is being first and foremost.¹ Now all things, inasmuch as they are, love their own being naturally in their own way. Much more, therefore, does God love his own being naturally. Now his nature is essentially necessary being, as was proved.² Therefore, God necessarily wills himself to be.

That God does not necessarily will other things than himself

Now if God wills the divine goodness and being necessarily, someone might think that he wills other things necessarily also, since he wills all else by willing his own goodness, as we have already proved.¹ Yet to those who look at it rightly, it is clear that he does not will other things of necessity.

For he wills other things as ordered to the end, which is his goodness.¹ Now the will is not necessarily directed to the means, if the end is possible without them: for the physician, supposing him to have the will to heal, has no need to prescribe to the patient those remedies without which he can heal the patient. Since, then, God’s goodness can be without other things, (nay more, since nothing accrues to it from other things), he is under no necessity to will other things through willing his own goodness.

Again. Since the good understood is the proper object of the will, any concept of the intellect, provided it retains an aspect of goodness, can be an object of the will. Therefore, although the being of a thing as such is good, and its non-being an evil, the non-being of a thing can be an object of the will by reason of some connected good which is retained, alhough not of necessity, because it is good for a thing to be, even though another be nonexistent. Hence the will, according to its nature, is unable to will not to be only that good without the existence of which the aspect of good is wholly done away. Now such a good is God alone. Therefore, the will, according to its nature, is able to will the non-being of anything whatever except God. Now will is in God according to its full capacity, since all things in him are in every way perfect.¹ Hence God can will the non-being of anything whatever except himself. Therefore, he does not necessarily will things other than himself.

Moreover. God, by willing his own goodness, wills other things to be, inasmuch as they partake of his goodness.¹ Now, since God’s goodness is infinite, it can be participated in an infinite number of ways, and in other ways besides those in which it is participated by those creatures which now are. If, then, through willing his own goodness, he willed of necessity the things which participate it, it would follow that he wills an infinite number of creatures partaking of his goodness in an infinite number of ways. But this is clearly false: for if he willed it, they would exist, since his will is the source of being to things, as we shall prove further on.² Therefore, he does not necessarily also will those things that are not.

Again. A wise man, through willing the cause, wills the effect which follows necessarily from the cause: for it would be foolish to will that the sun exist above the earth, and that there be no brightness of day. On the contrary, it is not necessary for one through willing the cause to will an effect which does not follow of necessity from the cause. Now other things proceed from God not necessarily, as we shall show further on.¹ Therefore, it is not necessary that God will other things through willing himself.

Moreover. Things proceed from God as products of art from a craftsman, as we shall show further on.¹ Now the craftsman, though he will himself to have his art, does not necessarily will to produce his work. Therefore, neither does God necessarily will things other than himself.

We must accordingly consider why it is that God knows of necessity other things than himself, whereas he wills them not of necessity; and yet through understanding and willing himself, he understands and wills other things.¹ The reason a person understands something is that he is conditioned in a certain way, insofar as a thing is actually understood through its likeness being in the person who understands it. But that the willer wills something is due to the thing willed being conditioned in some way, since we will a thing either because it is an end, or because it is directed to an end. Now the divine perfection necessarily requires that all things should be in God in order that they may be understood in him,² while the divine goodness does not necessarily demand that the other things which are directed to it as their end should exist. For this reason it is necessary that God should know, but not will, other things. Therefore, neither does he will all things that can possibly be directed to his goodness, although he knows all that can in any way be directed to his essence, by which he understands.

Objections against the statement that God wills not of necessity things other than himself

Nevertheless, it would seem to lead to impossibilities if God does not necessarily will the things that he wills.

For if God’s will is not determined in respect of certain things that he wills, it would seem that he is indifferent. Now every power that is indifferent is somewhat in potency, since the indifferent is a species of possible contingency. Therefore, God’s will would be in potency: consequently, it would not be God’s substance, in which there is no potency, as we have shown above.¹

Again. If a potential being as such is naturally changeable, since what is possible to be, is possible to not-be, it follows also that the divine will is changeable.

Again. If that which is indifferent to either of two alternatives does not tend to the one rather than to the other unless it be determined by something else, it follows that either God wills none of the things to which he is indifferent—the contrary of which has been proved above—¹or else he is determined to one alternative by something else. And thus something will be before him that determines him to one thing.

Now none of these consequences follow of necessity. For indifference may befit a power in two ways: first, on the part of the power itself; second, in respect of that to which it is said to be indifferent.

On the part of the power itself, when it has not yet reached its perfection whereby it is determined to one thing. Hence this argues imperfection in the power, and potency is proved to be in it, as may be seen in the intellect of one who doubts, for it has not yet acquired the principles by which it may be determined to one alternative.

On the part of the thing to which it is said to be indifferent, a power is found to be indifferent to either alternative, when the perfect operation of the power depends on neither, and yet either is possible, even as an art which can use various instruments that are equally adapted to perfect its work. Now this does not argue imperfection in the power; rather, does it pertain to its perfection, inasmuch as it transcends both alternatives, and for this reason is determined to neither, being indifferent to both. It is thus with God’s will in regard to other things than himself, since its end depends on none of these other things, whereas it is most perfectly united to its end. Therefore, it does not follow that there must be potency in the divine will.

Likewise, neither does it follow that there is changeableness. For if there is no potency in God’s will, the reason why he does not of necessity give preference to the one alternative in his effects is not because he is considered to be indifferent to either alternative, so as to be at first potentially willing either, and afterwards willing actually (whereas he is always actually willing whatsoever he wills, with regard not only to himself but also his effects). But it is because the thing willed is not necessarily related to the divine goodness, which is the proper object of the divine will, in the same way in which we say that an enunciation is not necessary but possible where the predicate is not necessarily related to the subject. Hence when we say: “God wills this effect,” this statement is clearly not necessary but possible, in the same way as a thing is said to be possible not in reference to a potency, but because it is neither necessary nor impossible for it to be, as the Philosopher teaches in Metaphysics 5.¹ Thus the statement that a triangle has two equal sides is possible, yet not in reference to a potency, since in mathematics there is neither potency nor movement. Therefore, the exclusion of the aforesaid necessity does not remove the unchangeableness of the divine will, to which Sacred Scripture bears witness: the triumpher in Israel will not be moved to repentance (1 Sam 15:29).

Yet although God’s will is not determined to its effects, it does not follow that he wills none of them, or that he is determined by something outside to will them. For, since the apprehended good determines the will as the latter’s proper object, while God’s intellect is not outside his will, because each is his essence; if God’s will is determined by the will of his intellect to will something, the determination of the divine will is not effected by something outside. For the divine intellect apprehends not only the divine being which is his goodness, but also other goods, as we proved above.¹ And it apprehends these as likenesses of the divine goodness, not as principles of them. Therefore, the divine will tends to them as according with his goodness, not as necessary to it. It is the same with our will, because when it tends to something as simply necessary to an end, it is moved by a kind of necessity towards it, but when it tends to something merely on account of some fittingness, it does not tend thereto of necessity. Therefore, neither does the divine will tend necessarily to its effects.

Nor does it follow on account of what has been said that we must admit the existence in God of something not natural. For his will, by the one and same act, wills himself and other things. Now his relation to himself is necessary and natural; whereas his relation to other things is by way of a kind of fittingness, not necessary and natural, nor violent and unnatural, but voluntary, since what is voluntary must be neither natural nor violent.

That God wills something other than himself by a necessity of supposition

We may conclude from the foregoing that, although God wills none of his effects of absolute necessity, he wills something necessarily by supposition.

For it has been proved¹ that the divine will is unchangeable. Now that which is once in an unchangeable thing cannot afterwards not be therein, since we say that a thing is changed when its condition is different now to what it was before. Therefore, if God’s will is unchangeable, supposing that he will something, it is necessary by supposition that he will it.

Again. Everything eternal is necessary. Now that God will some particular effect to exist is eternal: for his willing, like his being, is measured by eternity.¹ Therefore, it is necessary. Not, however, if we consider it absolutely, because God’s will does not have a necessary relation to this particular thing willed. Therefore, it is necessary by supposition.²

Moreover. Whosoever wills a thing, necessarily wills those things which are necessarily requisite to that thing, unless there be a defect on his part, either through ignorance, or because he is led astray from the right choice of means to the end in view, by some passion. But these things cannot be said of God. Therefore, if God, in willing himself, wills something other than himself, it is necessary for him to will all that is necessarily required for what is willed by him. Even so is it necessary for God to will that there be a rational soul, supposing that he wills a man to be.

That God’s will is not of things impossible in themselves

Hence it is clear that God’s will cannot be of things that are impossible in themselves.

For the like are those which imply a contradiction in themselves (for instance, that a man be an ass, which implies that rational is irrational). Now that which is incompatible with a thing excludes some of those things which are required for that thing (for instance, to be an ass excludes man’s reason). If, then, he wills necessarily the things that are required for those he is supposed to will, it is impossible that he will those that are incompatible with them. Hence it is impossible for him to will things that are simply impossible.

Again. As was proved above,¹ God, by willing his own being, which is his own goodness, wills all things as bearing a likeness to him. Now insofar as a thing is incompatible with the notion of being as such, it cannot retain a likeness to the first, that is, the divine being, which is the source of being. Therefore, God cannot will that which is incompatible with the notion of being as such. Now just as irrationality is incompatible with the notion of man as such, so is it incompatible with the notion of being as such, that anything be at the same time a being and a non-being. Hence God cannot will affirmation and negation to be true at the same time. Yet this is implied in everything which is in itself impossible, that it is incompatible with itself, inasmuch as it implies a contradiction. Therefore, God’s will cannot be of things impossible in themselves.

Moreover. The will is only of some understood good. Therefore, that which is not an object of the intellect cannot be an object of the will. Now things in themselves impossible are not an object of understanding, since they imply a contradiction, except perhaps through an error of one who understands not the property of things, and this cannot be said of God. Therefore, things in themselves impossible cannot be an object of God’s will.

Further. According as a thing is related to being, so is it related to goodness. But impossibles are things that cannot be. Therefore, they cannot be good. Neither, therefore, can they be willed by God, who wills only the things that are or can be good.

That the divine will does not remove contingency from things nor impose absolute necessity on them

From what has been said we may gather that the divine will does not exclude contingency, nor impose absolute necessity on things.

For God wills all that is requisite for the thing which he wills, as already stated.¹ Now it befits some things, according to the mode of their nature, that they be contingent and not necessary. Therefore, he wills certain things to be contingent. Now the efficacy of the divine will requires not only that what God wills to be should be, but also that it should be in the mode that God wills it to be. For even in natural agents, when the active force is strong, it likens its effects to itself not only in its species, but also in its accidents, which are a kind of mode of that thing. Therefore, the efficacy of the divine will does not remove contingency.

Moreover. God wills the good of the universe more especially than any particular good, according as the likeness of his goodness is more completely found in it.¹ Now the completeness of the universe demands that some things should be contingent; otherwise not all the degrees of being would be contained in the universe. Therefore, God wills some things to be contingent.

Again. The good of the universe consists in a certain order, as stated in the Metaphysics.¹ Now the order of the universe requires that certain causes be changeable, since bodies belong to the perfection of the universe and they do not move unless they be moved. Now from a changeable cause contingent effects follow, since the effect cannot have more stable being than the cause. Hence we find that, though the remote cause be necessary, yet if the proximate cause be contingent, the effect is contingent. This is evidenced by what happens with the lower bodies: for they are contingent on account of the contingency of their proximate causes, although their remote causes, which are the heavenly movements, are necessary. Therefore, God wills some things to happen contingently.

Hence it does not follow that a thing happens of necessity if God wills it, but that this conditional proposition is true and necessary: “if God wills a thing, it will be.” And yet the consequence is not necessary.

That a reason of the divine will can be assigned

We can gather from what has been said that it is possible to assign a reason of the divine will.

For the end is the reason of willing the means. Now God wills his goodness as an end, and he wills all else as means to that end.¹ Therefore, his goodness is the reason why he wills other things which are different from him.

Again. The particular good is directed to the good of the whole as its end as the imperfect to the perfect. Now things are the object of the divine will according to their place in the order of good.¹ Hence it follows that the good of the universe is the reason why God wills each particular good in the universe.

Again. As we have shown above,¹ supposing God to will a certain thing, it follows of necessity that he wills whatever is required for that thing. Now that which imposes necessity on something else is the reason why this other thing is. Therefore, the reason why God wills what is requisite for a thing is so that the thing for which it is requisite may be.

Accordingly, we may proceed thus in assigning the reason of the divine will. God wills man to have reason that man may be; he wills man to be that the universe may be complete; and he wills the good of the universe because it is befitting his goodness.

Yet these three reasons do not indicate the same relationship. For the divine goodness neither depends on the perfection of the universe nor gains anything from it. Although the perfection of the universe depends necessarily on certain particular goods (which are the essential parts of the universe), it does not depend on others of necessity, although a certain goodness or beauty accrues to the universe through them: for instance, through such things as are merely for the protection or beauty of the other parts. And the particular good depends necessarily on those things which are absolutely required for it, although this also has certain things which are for its better being. Therefore, sometimes the reason of the divine will indicates only fittingness, sometimes utility, and sometimes necessity by supposition, but absolutely necessity only when God wills himself.

That nothing can be the cause of the divine will

Now although it is possible to assign some reason of the divine will, it does not follow that anything is the cause of that will.

For the end is the cause of willing to the will. Now the end of God’s will is his goodness. Therefore, this is the cause of God’s willing, and is the selfsame as the act of his will.¹

But none of the other things willed by God is the cause of his willing, although one of them is the cause of another being directed to the divine goodness. And it is in this sense that God wills one of them on account of another.

Nevertheless, it is clear that there is no need to allow of any discursion in the divine will. For where there is one act, we cannot find discursion, as we have proved above¹ with regard to the intellect. Now God by one act wills his goodness and all else,² since his action is his essence.

By what we have said we refute the error of some who say that all things proceed from God according to his simple will, so that no reason is to be given for anything except that God wills it.¹

Moreover. This is contrary to divine Scripture, which declares that God made all things in accordance with the order of his wisdom, as expressed in the Psalm: in wisdom have you made them all (Ps 104[103]:24); and: God poured out his wisdom upon all his works (Sir 1:9).

That in God there is free will

It is possible to conclude from the foregoing that free will is to be found in God.

For free will is applied to those things that one wills not of necessity but of one’s own accord: thus in us there is free will in regard to our wishing to run or walk. Now God wills not of necessity things other than himself, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, it is fitting that God should have free will.

Again. The divine will, in those things to which it is not determined by its nature, is inclined in a way by the intellect, as we have shown above.¹ Now man to the exclusion of other animals is said to have free will, because he is inclined to will by the judgment of his reason, and not by natural impulse as brute animals are. Therefore, there is free will in God.

Again. According to the Philosopher, in Ethics 3,¹ will is of the end, but choice is of the means to the end. Therefore, since God wills himself as end, and other things as means to the end,² it follows that in regard to himself he has will only, but choice in respect of other things. Now choice is always an act of free will. Therefore, free will is befitting God.

This may also be gathered from the very signification of the word. For the free is that which is its own cause, according to the Philosopher at the beginning of the Metaphysics.¹ And to none is this more befitting than to the first cause, which is God.²

God’s life

That the passions of the appetite are not in God

From the foregoing we may conclude that the passions of the appetite are not in God.

For there is no passion in the intellective appetite, but only in the sensitive, as is proved in Physics 7.3. Now no such appetite can be in God, since he has no knowledge through senses, as clearly results from what has been said.¹ Therefore, it follows that no passion of the appetite is in God.

Again. In every passion of the appetite the patient is somewhat drawn outside its ordinary, even, or connatural disposition: a sign of which is that these passions, if they become intense, cause an animal’s death. But it is impossible for God to be in any way drawn outside his natural disposition, since he is utterly unchangeable, as was shown above.¹ It is, therefore, evident that these passions cannot be in God.

Moreover. Every emotion that is accompanied by a passion has one definite object, according to the mode and measure of the passion. For a passion has an impulse to some one thing, even as nature has, and on this account it needs to be curbed and ruled by reason. Now the divine will is not in itself determined to one in things created, except by the ordering of his wisdom, as was proved above.¹ Therefore, there is no emotional passion in him.

Again. Every passion is in a subject that is in potency. But God is altogether free of potency, since he is pure act.¹ Therefore, he is agent only, and in no way can passion take place in him.

Accordingly, all passion, by reason of its genus, is absent from God.

Some passions, however, are absent from God not only by reason of their genus, but also on account of their species. For every passion takes its species from its object. Therefore, a passion whose object is wholly unbefitting God is absent from God on account of its proper species.

Such a passion is sorrow or pain: for its object is an actually inherent evil, just as the object of joy is a good present and possessed. Sorrow, therefore, and pain by their very nature cannot be in God.

Again. The formality of a passion’s object is taken not only from good or evil, but also from the fact that a person is referred in some mode to the one or the other: for thus it is that hope and joy differ. Therefore, if the mode in which a person is referred to the object—that mode being essential to the passion—is not becoming to God, neither can the passion itself be becoming to God, and this by reason of its proper species. Now although hope has a good for its object, this is a good not already acquired, but to be yet obtained. And this cannot be competent to God on account of his perfection, which is so great that nothing can be added to it.¹ Hope, therefore, cannot be in God, even by reason of its species, nor again desire of anything not possessed.

Moreover. Just as the divine perfection excludes from God the potency of acquiring any additional good, so too and much more it excludes the potency to evil.¹ Now fear regards evil that may be imminent, even as hope regards a good to be acquired. Therefore, fear by reason of its species is absent from God on two counts, both because it is befitting only one that is in potency, and because its object is an evil that can become present.

Again. Repentance denotes a change in the appetite. Therefore, the idea of repentance is inapplicable to God,¹ both because it is a kind of sorrow, and because it implies a change of will.

Again. To grieve for a good is the same as desiring an evil, for the former results from a good being deemed an evil, while the latter results from an evil being deemed a good. Now anger is the desire of another’s evil in revenge. Therefore, anger is far removed from God according to its specific nature, not only because it is an effect of sorrow, but also because it is a desire for revenge on account of sorrow arising from a harm inflicted.

Also, whatever passions are species or effects of the above are equally removed from God.

That in God are delight and joy, nor are they incompatible with the divine perfection

There are, however, certain passions which, though unbecoming to God as passions, nevertheless contain nothing in their specific nature incompatible with the divine perfection.

Among these are joy and delight. For joy has for its object a present good. Therefore, neither by reason of its object, which is a good, nor by reason of the way in which it is referred to that object, which is actually possessed, is joy incompatible with the divine perfection according to its specific nature.

Hence it is evident that joy or delight, properly speaking, is in God. Because just as good and evil apprehended are the object of the sensible appetite, so are they the object of the intellective appetite. For it belongs to both to pursue good and to avoid evil, whether so in truth, or in the estimation. The difference is that the object of the intellective appetite is more universal than that of the sensitive appetite, since the intellective appetite regards good or evil simply, whereas the sensitive appetite regards good or evil according to the senses, even as the object of the intellect is more universal than that of the senses. Now the operations of the appetite take their species from their objects. Accordingly, we find in the intellective appetite (which is the will) operations specifically similar to those of the sensitive appetite, though differing in this: in the sensitive appetite they are passions on account of its connection with a bodily organ, but in the intellective appetite they are pure operations. For just as by the passion of fear which, in the sensitive appetite, one shuns a future evil, so the intellective appetite has a like operation without passion. Since, then, joy and delight are not inapplicable to God according to their species, but only as passions, while they are in the will according to their species, but not as passions, it follows that they are not absent from the divine will.

Again. Joy and delight are a kind of repose of the will in the object of its willing. Now God is supremely at rest in himself, who is the principal object of his will, as finding all sufficiency in himself.¹ Therefore, by his will he rejoices and delights supremely in himself.

Moreover. Everything naturally rejoices in its like¹ as being congenial to it, except accidentally, insofar as this thing impedes its own utility. Thus potters quarrel among themselves,² because one hinders the profit of another. Now every good is a likeness of the divine goodness, as stated above,³ nor is any good prejudicial to it. Therefore, God rejoices in every good.

Therefore, joy and delight are in him properly speaking. Yet joy and delight differ in aspect. For delight is caused by a good conjoined in reality, while joy does not require this conjunction, because the mere repose of the will in the thing willed suffices for the notion of joy. Hence delight is only in a conjoined good, if it be taken in its proper sense, whereas joy is in a separate good. Therefore, it is evident that, properly speaking, God delights in himself, but rejoices in himself in other things.

That in God there is love

In like manner it follows that love is in God¹ as an act of his will.

For it belongs properly to the nature of love that the lover wills the good of the beloved. Now God wills his own and others’ good, as stated above.¹ Accordingly, then, God loves both himself and other things.

Again. True love requires one to will another’s good as one’s own. For a thing whose good one wills merely as conducive to another’s good is loved accidentally: thus he who wills wine to be preserved that he may drink it, or who loves a man that he may be useful or pleasing to him, loves the wine or the man accidentally, but himself properly speaking. Now God loves each thing’s good as its own, since he wills each thing to be inasmuch as it is good in itself, although he directs one to the profit of another. God, therefore, truly loves both himself and other things.

Moreover. Since everything naturally wills or desires its own good in its own way, if the nature of love is that the lover will or desire the good of the beloved, it follows that the lover is referred to the beloved as to a thing that is in a way one with him. Therefore, it appears that the proper notion of love consists in the affection of one tending to another as one with himself in some way, for which reason Dionysius describes love as a unitive force.¹ Hence the greater the thing that makes the lover one with the beloved, the more intense is the love: for we love those more who are united to us by the origin of birth, or by frequent companionship, than those who are merely united to us by the bond of human nature. Again, the more the cause of union is deeply seated in the lover, the stronger the love; therefore, sometimes a love that is caused by a passion becomes more intense than a love arising from natural origin or from some habit, although it is more liable to be transitory. Now the cause of all things being united to God, namely his goodness (which all things reflect), is exceedingily great and deeply seated in God, since he is his own goodness.² Therefore, in God not only is there true love, but also most perfect and most abiding love.

Again. On the part of its object, love does not denote anything inconsistent with God, since that object is a good. Nor again, as regards the way in which it is referred to its object, since a thing when possessed is loved not less, but more, because a good is more closely united to us when possessed. Therefore, in natural things movement towards an end is more intense if the end be near (although the contrary happens accidentally sometimes, for instance, when we discover something repugnant to love in the beloved, for then possession diminishes love). Accordingly, love is not inconsistent with the divine perfection as regards its specific nature. Therefore, it is in God.

Again. Love is the source of all the emotions.¹ For joy and desire are only of a good that is loved; fear and sorrow are only of evil that is contrary to the beloved good; and from these all the other emotions arise. Now joy and delight are in God, as we have shown above.² Therefore, in God there is love.

Someone, however, might think that God does not love one thing more than another. For if intenseness and remissness are proper to a changeable nature, they cannot apply to God, from whom all change is far removed.¹

Again. None of the other things that are said of God by way of operation are applied to him more or less, since he does not know one thing more than another, nor rejoices more in this than in that.

Accordingly, it must be observed that while other operations of the soul are about one object only, love alone appears to be directed to a twofold object. For if we understand or rejoice, it follows that we are referred somehow to some object, whereas love wills something to someone, since we are said to love that to which we will some good, in the aforesaid way. Hence when we want a thing, we are said simply and properly to desire it, and not to love it, but rather to love ourselves for whom we want it. Consequently, we are said to love it accidentally and improperly. Accordingly, other operations are greater or lesser in proportion to the energy alone of the action. But this cannot apply to God, because energy of action is measured by the force from which it proceeds, and every divine action is of one and the same force. On the other hand, love may be greater or lesser in two ways. In one way, as regards the good that we will someone, according to which we are said to love that person more for whom we will a greater good. In another way, as regards the energy of the action, according to which we are said to love that person more for whom, although we will not a greater good, nevertheless we will an equal good with greater fervor and efficacy.

In the first way, accordingly, nothing forbids us to say that God loves one thing more than another, according as he wills for it a greater good. But in the second way this cannot be said, for the same reason as we have stated in the case of other operations.

It is therefore clear from what has been said,¹ that none of our emotions, properly speaking, can be in God, except joy and love: and yet even these are not in him as they are in us, by way of passion.

That joy or delight is in God is confirmed by the authority of Scripture. For it is said in the Psalm: in your right hand are delights forevermore (Ps 16[15]:11). Divine wisdom, which is God, as we have proved,¹ says: I was delighted every day, playing before him (Prov 8:30); and: there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents (Luke 15:10). Also, the Philosopher says, in the Ethics² that God rejoices with one simple delight.

Scripture also makes mention of God’s love: he loved his people (Deut 33:3); I have loved you with an everlasting love (Jer 31:3); the Father himself loves you (John 16:27). Certain philosophers¹ also taught that God’s love is the principle of things, which agrees with Dionysius,² who says that: God’s love did not allow him to be unproductive.

It must, however, be observed that even other emotions which by their specific nature are inapplicable to God are applied to God in Sacred Scripture, not indeed properly, as we have shown.¹ but metaphorically, on account of a likeness either of effects, or of some preceding emotion.

I say of effects, because sometimes his will, by the ordering of his wisdom, tends to an effect to which a person is inclined through a defective passion: thus a judge punishes out of justice as an angry man out of anger. Accordingly, sometimes God is said to be angry insofar as by the ordering of his wisdom he wills to punish someone, according to the saying of the Psalm: his wrath is quickly kindled (Ps 2:12). He is said to be merciful insofar as out of his goodwill he removes man’s unhappiness,¹ even as we do the same through the passion of mercy. Hence the Psalm says: the Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Ps 103[102]:8). Sometimes also he is said to repent insofar as in accordance with the eternal and unchangeable decree of his providence, he makes what he destroyed before, or destroys what previously he made, even as those who are moved by repentance are wont to do. Hence: I am sorry that I have made man (Gen 6:7). That this cannot be taken in the proper sense is clear from the words of 1 Samuel 15:29: the triumpher in Israel will not spare and will not be moved to repentance.

I also say on account of a likeness to a preceding emotion. For love and joy, which are in God properly, are the principles of all the emotions: love by way of moving principle; joy by way of end. Therefore, even an angry man rejoices while punishing, as having obtained his end. Hence God is said to grieve insofar as certain things occur contrary to those he loves and approves, even as we grieve for what has happened against our will: the Lord saw it, and it displeased him that there was no justice. He saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no one to intervene (Isa 59:15–16).

By what has been said we can refute the error of certain Jews who ascribed to God anger, sorrow, repentance, and all such passions in their proper sense, failing to discriminate between the proper and the metaphorical expressions of Scripture.

How virtues are to be ascribed to God

In sequence to what has been said we must show how virtues are to be ascribed to God. For just as his being is universally perfect, in some way containing within itself the perfection of all beings,¹ so must his goodness in some way comprise the various kinds of goodness of all things.² Now virtue is a kind of goodness of the virtuous person, since in respect of it he is said to be good, and his work good.³ It follows, therefore, that the divine goodness contains in its own way all virtues.

Therefore, none of them is ascribed as a habit to God as it is to us. For it is not befitting God to be good through something else added to him, but by his essence, for he is altogether simple.¹ Nor does he act by anything added to his essence, since his action is his being, as we have shown.² Therefore, his virtue is not a habit, but his essence.

Again. Habit is imperfect act, a mean, as it were, between potency and act. Therefore, one who has a habit is compared to a person asleep.¹ But in God there is most perfect act. Hence act in him is not like a habit, as knowledge, but like “to consider,” which is an ultimate and perfect act.

Again. Habit perfects a potency, but in God nothing is potential but only actual.¹ Therefore, a habit cannot be in him.

Now since it is by human virtues that human life is regulated, and since human life is twofold, contemplative and active, those virtues which belong to the active life, as perfecting it, cannot be becoming to God.

For the active life of man consists in the use of bodily goods: therefore, those virtues by which we use these goods aright regulate the active life. But these goods cannot be befitting God. Therefore, neither can these virtues, insofar as they regulate this life.

Again. The same virtues perfect man’s conduct in his civil life: hence they do not seem very applicable to those who have nothing to do with the civil life. Much less, therefore, can they be applied to God, whose conduct and life are far removed from the manner of human life.

Moreover. Some of the virtues that are concerned with the active life regulate us in regard to the passions. These we cannot ascribe to God. For those virtues which are concerned with the passions take their species from those very passions as from their proper objects: thus temperance differs from fortitude because the former is about desires, while the latter is about fear and daring. But in God there are no passions, as we have proved.¹ Neither, therefore, can these virtues be in God.

Again. These same virtues are not in the intellective part of the soul, but in the sensitive part, in which alone can the passions be, as is proved in Physics 7.3. But there is no sensitive faculty in God, but only intellect.¹ It follows, therefore, that these virtues cannot be in God, even according to their proper signification.

Some of the passions about which these virtues are concerned result from an inclination of the appetite to some bodily good that is pleasant to the senses—for instance, meat, drink, and sexual matters. And in respect of the desires for these things there are sobriety, chastity, and speaking in a general way, temperance and continence. Therefore, since bodily pleasures are utterly removed from God, the aforesaid virtues neither apply to God properly, since they are about the passions, nor even are they applied to God metaphorically in the Scriptures, because no likeness to them is to be found in God as regards a likeness in their effects.¹

And there are some passions resulting from an inclination of the appetite to a spiritual good, such as honor, dominion, victory, revenge, and so forth: and there are fortitude, magnanimity, meekness, and other like virtues about our hopes, darings, and any acts of the appetite in respect of these things. These cannot be in God properly, because they are about the passions, but they are applied metaphorically to God in Scripture, on account of a likeness of effect. For instance: there is none brave like our God (1 Sam 2:2); and: seek the meek, seek the good (Zeph 2:3).

That in God there are moral virtues which are about actions

Now there are some virtues which regulate man’s active life, and are concerned not with passions but with actions, such as truth, justice, liberality, magnificence, prudence, and art.

Now since virtue derives its species from its object or matter, while the actions that are the matter or object of these virtues are not inconsistent with the divine perfection, neither is there in these virtues (according to their proper species) anything for which they should be excluded from the divine perfection.

Again. These virtues are perfections of the will and intellect, which are principles of operation without passion. Now in God there are will and intellect without any lack of perfection.¹ Therefore, these virtues cannot be lacking in God.

Moreover. The proper reason about all things that take their being from God exists in the divine intellect, as we have proved above. Now the reason in the craftsman’s mind about the thing to be made is art: thus the Philosopher says, in Ethics 6.4, that art is right reason about things to be made. Therefore, art is properly in God. And for this reason it is said: wisdom, the artificer of all things, taught me (Wis 7:21).

Again. God’s will, in things other than himself, is determined to one particular thing by his knowledge, as was shown above.¹ Now knowledge, directing the will to operation, is prudence, since prudence is right reason about things to be done, according to the Philosopher.² Therefore, prudence is in God, and this is what is said: with him is prudence and strength (Job 12:16).

Again. It was shown above¹ that through willing a particular thing, God wills whatever is required for that thing. Now that which is requisite for a perfection of a thing is due to it. Therefore, in God there is justice, which consists in rendering to each one what is his.² Hence it is said in the Psalm: the Lord is just and loved justice (Ps 11:7[10:8]).

Moreover. As shown above,¹ the last end, for the sake of which God wills all things, in no way depends on the things directed to the end, neither as to its being nor as to any perfection. Therefore, he wills to communicate his goodness to a thing not that he may gain by it, but because the very act of communicating is befitting him as the source of goodness. Now to give, not for a gain expected from the giving, but through goodness and becomingness, is an act of liberality, as the Philosopher teaches.² Therefore, God is most liberal, and as Avicenna says,³ he alone can properly be called liberal, since every other agent, except God, gains by his action some good which is the end in view. Scripture declares this his liberality when it says in the Psalm: when you open thy hand, they are filled with good things (Ps 104[103]:28); and: who gives to all men generously and without reproaching (Jas 1:5).

Again. All that receive being from God must bear his likeness inasmuch as they are, and are good, and have their proper types in the divine intellect, as we have shown above.¹ Now it belongs to the virtue of truth, according to the Philosopher, that a man show himself as he is by his words and deeds.² Therefore, in God is the virtue of truth. Hence it is said: now God is true (Rom 3:4), and in the Psalm: all your ways are true (Ps 119[118]:151).

But whatever virtues are directed to certain actions of subjects in reference to superiors are inapplicable to God (for instance, obedience, religion, and the like, which are due to a superior).

Again, the aforesaid virtues cannot be ascribed to God in respect of any of their acts that may be imperfect. Thus prudence as to its act of taking good counsel does not befit God. For, since counsel is an inquiry, as it says in the Ethics,¹ whereas the divine knowledge is not inquisitive, as was proved above,² it cannot become it to take counsel. Thus we read: to whom have you given counsel? Perhaps to him that has no wisdom? (Job 26:3); and: whom did he consult . . . and who taught him? (Isa 40:14). On the other hand, as regards the act of judging of things counselled and the choice of those approved, nothing hinders prudence being ascribed to God. However, counsel is sometimes ascribed to God either by reason of a likeness in the point of secrecy, for counsels are taken in secret (thus the secrets of the divine wisdom are called “counsels” metaphorically, for instance Isaiah 25:1, according to another version (Septuagint): may your counsel of old be verified; or in the point of satisfying those who seek counsel of him, for it belongs to one who understands, even without discursion, to instruct inquirers.

Likewise, justice as to its act of commutation cannot be ascribed to God, since he receives nothing from any one. Hence we read: who has first given to him, that he might be repaid? (Rom 11:35); and: who has given to me, that I should repay him? (Job 41:11). However, we are said metaphorically to give certain things to God, inasmuch as God accepts our gifts. Thus it befits him to not have commutative, but only distributive, justice. Hence Dionysius says that God is praised for his justice, because he distributes to all according to their merits (On the Divine Names, 8), as expressed by Matthew 25:15: he gave to each according to his ability.

It must be noted, however, that the actions about which the aforesaid virtues are concerned do not by their nature depend on human affairs, for to judge of what has to be done, and to give or distribute something, belongs not to man alone but to every intelligent being. But so far as they are confined to human concerns, they take their species from them to a certain extent, just as a crooked nose makes a species of ape.¹ Accordingly, the aforesaid virtues, so far as they regulate man’s active life, are directed to these actions as confined to human affairs and taking their species from them. In this way they cannot be ascribed to God. But so far as the aforesaid actions are understood in a general sense, they can be adapted even to divine things. For just as man is a dispenser of human things, such as money or honors, so is God the bestower of all the goods of the universe. Hence the aforesaid virtues in God have a more universal range than in man: for as justice in man relates to the state or the household, so God’s justice extends to the whole universe. Therefore, the divine virtues are called exemplar² virtues, because things that are limited and particularized are likenesses of absolute beings, as the light of a candle in comparison with the light of the sun. But other virtues which properly are not applicable to God have no exemplar in the divine nature, but only in the divine wisdom, which contains the proper types of all beings,³ as is the case with other corporeal things.

That the contemplative virtues are in God

For, since wisdom consists in the knowledge of the highest causes, according to the Philosopher at the beginning of his Metaphysics,¹ and since God knows himself principally, nor knows anything save by knowing himself, the first cause of all, as we have proved,² it is evident that wisdom ought to be especially ascribed to him. Hence we read: he is wise in heart (Job 9:4); and: all wisdom comes from the Lord and is with him forever (Sir 1:1). The Philosopher, too, says at the beginning of his Metaphysics,³ that it is a divine, not a human, possession.

Again. Since science is the knowledge of a thing by its proper cause,¹ and since he knows the order of all causes and effects, as we have shown above,² it is evident that science is properly in him: not, however, that science which is caused by reasoning,³ as our science is caused by a demonstration. Hence it is written: the Lord is a God of knowledge (1 Sam 2:3).

Further. Since immaterial knowledge of things without discoursing is understanding¹ and since God has this kind of knowledge about all things, as proved above,² it follows that in him is understanding. Hence we read: he has counsel and understanding (Job 12:13).

In God these virtues are the exemplars of ours, as the perfect of the imperfect.

That God cannot will evil

From what has been said it can be proved that God cannot will evil.

For the virtue of a thing is that by which one produces a good work.¹ Now every work of God is a work of virtue, since his virtue is his essence, as we have shown above.² Therefore, he cannot will evil.

Again. The will never tends towards evil unless there be an error in the reason, at least as regards the particular object of choice. For, since the object of the will is an apprehended good, the will cannot tend towards an evil unless, in some way, it is proposed to it as a good, and this cannot be without an error. Now there can be no error in the divine knowledge, as we have shown.¹ Therefore, God’s will cannot tend to evil.

Moreover. God is the highest good, as was proved above.¹ Now the highest good does not suffer the company of evil, as neither does the supremely hot suffer an admixture of cold. Therefore, the divine will cannot be inclined to evil.

It is, therefore, evident that in him free will is naturally established in good.

This is expressed in the words of Deuteronomy 32:4: God of faithfulness and without iniquity, and Habakkuk 1:13: you who are of purer eyes than to behold evil and cannot look on wrong.

Through this, the error of the Jews is confuted, who assert in the Talmud that God sins sometimes and is cleansed from sin; and also of the Luciferians, who say that God sinned in casting out Lucifer.

That God hates nothing, nor can the hatred of anything be ascribed to him

Hence it appears that hatred of a thing cannot be ascribed to God.

Because as love is related to good, so is hatred to evil: for we will good to those whom we love, but evil to those whom we hate. Therefore, if God’s will cannot be inclined to evil, as was proved above,¹ it is impossible for him to hate anything.

Again. As we have shown above,¹ God’s will tends to things other than himself, inasmuch as by willing and loving his being and goodness, he wills it to be poured forth by communicating its likeness as far as possible. Accordingly, what God wills in things other than himself is that the likeness of his goodness be in them. Now the goodness of each thing consists in its partaking of the divine likeness, since every other goodness is nothing but a likeness of the first goodness.² Therefore, God wills good to everything, and consequently he hates nothing.

Again. From the first being all others take the origin of their being.¹ Therefore, if he hates any one of the things that are, he wills it not to be, because to be is a thing’s good. Hence he wills his action not to be by which that thing is brought into being mediately or immediately; for it has been proved above² that if God wills a thing, it follows that he wills whatever is required for that thing. But this is impossible. And this is evident if things are brought into being by his will, since in that case the action by which things are produced must be voluntary. Likewise, if he is the cause of things naturally, because just as his nature pleases him, so also everything that his nature requires pleases him. Therefore, God does not hate anything.

This agrees with the saying of Wisdom 11:25: you love all things that exist, and have loathing for none of the things which you have made.

And yet God is said metaphorically to hate certain things, and this in two ways. First, from the fact that God in loving things, and willing their good to be, wills the contrary evil not to be. Therefore, he is said to hate evils, since we are said to hate that which we will not to be: do not devise evil in your hearts against one another, and love no false oath, for all these things I hate, says the Lord (Zach 8:17). But such things are not his effects as subsistent things, to which hatred or love are directed properly speaking.

The other way is due to God willing some greater good that cannot be without the privation of a lesser good. And thus he is said to hate, since to do more than this were to love. For in this way insofar as he wills the good of justice or of the order of the universe (which good is impossible without the punishment or destruction of some) he is said to hate those whose punishment or destruction he wills: I have hated Esau (Mal 1:3); and: you hate all evildoers; you destroy those who speak lies; the Lord abhors bloodthirsty and deceitful men (Ps 5:6).

That God is a living being

From what has been already proved, it follows of necessity that God is a living being.

For it has been shown¹ that in God there are intelligence and will. Now intelligence and will are only in that which lives. Therefore, God is a living being.

Again. Life is ascribed to certain things inasmuch as they seem to be set in motion of themselves and not by another. For which reason, things which seem to be moved of themselves, whose movers are not perceived by the unlearned, are described metaphorically as living: for instance, we speak of the living water of a flowing source, but not of a tank or stagnant pond; and of quicksilver, which seems to have a kind of movement. For properly speaking, those things alone are themselves in motion which move themselves (being composed of mover and moved), such as animate beings. Therefore, such things alone are said to live, while all others are moved by some other thing: either as generating them, or as removing an obstacle, or as impelling them. And since sensible operations are accompanied by movement, finally whatever moves itself to its proper operations, although these be without movement, is said to live: thus intelligence, appetite, and sensation are vital actions. Now God especially works not as moved by another but by himself, since he is the first active cause.¹ Therefore, to live befits him the most.

Again. The divine being contains every perfection of being, as was shown above.¹ Now life is a kind of perfect existence; therefore, living beings are placed above non-living things in the order of beings. Therefore, God’s being is life. Therefore, he is a living being.

This is confirmed by the authority of divine Scripture. For it is said in the person of the Lord: I will say: ‘I live forever’ (Deut 32:40); and in the Psalm: my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God (Ps 84:2[83:3]).

That God is his own life

From this it further appears that God is his own life.

For life in a living being is the same as to live expressed in the abstract; just as running is in reality the same as to run. Now in living things, to live is to be, as the Philosopher declares in On the Soul.¹ For, since an animal is said to be living because it has a soul whereby it has existence (that is, by its proper form), it follows that to live is nothing but a particular kind of existence resulting from a particular kind of form. Now God is his own existence, as proved above.² Therefore, he is his own living and his own life.

Again. Intelligence is a kind of life, as the Philosopher declares, in On the Soul,¹ since to live is the act of a living being. Now God is his own act of intelligence, as we have proved.² Therefore, he is his own living and his own life.

Moreover. If God were not his own life, since he is a living being, as shown above,¹ it would follow that he is living by a participation of life. Now whatever is by participation is reduced to that which is by its essence. Therefore, God would be reduced to something preceding him whereby he would live. But this is impossible, as is evident from what has been said.²

Again. If God is a living being, as we have proved,¹ it follows that life is in him. Therefore, if he be not his own life, there will be something in him that is not himself: consequently, he will be composite. But this was disproved above.² Therefore, God is his own life.

This is what is said: I am life (John 14:6).

That God’s life is eternal

It follows from this that God’s life is eternal.

For nothing ceases to live except by being severed from life. But nothing can be severed from itself: for all severance results from the separation of one thing from another. Therefore, it is impossible that God cease to live, since himself is his own life, as we have proved.¹

Again. Whatever sometimes is and sometimes is not results from a cause: for nothing brings itself from non-being to being, since what does not yet exist does not act. Now the divine life has no cause, as neither has the divine existence. Therefore, he is not sometimes living and sometimes not living, but is ever living. Therefore, his life is eternal.

Again. In every operation the operator remains, although sometimes the operation is transitory by way of succession: thus in movement, the thing moved remains the same identically though not logically. Hence where action is the agent itself, it follows that nothing passes by in succession, but that the whole is simultaneously the same throughout. Now in God to understand and to live are God himself, as was proved.¹ Therefore, his life is without succession and is simultaneously whole.² Therefore, it is eternal.

Moreover. God is utterly unchangeable, as we have proved above.¹ But that which begins or ceases to live, or is subject to succession in living, is changeable: for the life of a being begins by generation and ceases by corruption, and succession results from change of some kind. Therefore, God neither began to be, nor will cease to be, nor is subject to succession in living. Therefore, his life is eternal.

Therefore, it is said in the person of the Lord: I live forever (Deut 32:40); and: this is the true God and eternal life (1 John 5:20).

That God is happy

It remains for us to show from the foregoing that God is happy.

For happiness is the proper good of every intellectual nature. Since, then, God is intelligent,¹ his proper good is happiness. Now he is compared to his proper good not as that which tends to a good not yet possessed—for this belongs to a nature that is changeable and in potency²—but as that which already possesses its proper good. Therefore, he not only desires happiness, as we do, but enjoys it. Therefore, he is happy.

Moreover. An intellectual nature desires and wills above all that which is most perfect in it, and this is its happiness. But the most perfect thing in every being is its most perfect operation: for power and habit are perfected by operation; therefore, the Philosopher says that happiness is a perfect operation.¹

Now the perfection of operation depends on four things. First, on its genus, namely, so that it abides in the operator. I mean one by which nothing else is done besides the operation, such as to see or to hear. For the like are perfections of those things whose operations they are, and can be something ultimate, because they are not directed to something made as their end. On the other hand, an operation or action from which there follows something done besides the action itself, is a perfection of the thing done, not of the doer, and is compared to the doer as its end. Hence such an operation of the intellectual nature is not beatitude or happiness. Second, on the principle of operation: it should be an operation of the highest power. Hence happiness in us is not by an operation of the senses, but by an operation of the intellect perfected by a habit. Third, on the object of the operation. For this reason ultimate happiness in us consists in understanding the highest object of our intellect. Fourth, on the form of operation, namely, that the operation should be performed perfectly, easily, constantly, and pleasurably. Now such is the operation of God. For he is intelligent, and his intellect is the sovereign power; nor does it need to be perfected by a habit, since it is perfect in itself, as we proved above.¹ He also understands himself, who is the highest of intelligible objects, perfectly, without any difficulty, and pleasurably. Therefore, he is happy.

Again. Every desire is set at rest by happiness, because once it is possessed nothing remains to be desired, for it is the last end. Accordingly, he must be happy, since he is perfect in all things that can be desired; thus Boethius says that happiness is a state made perfect by the assemblage of all good things (On the Consolation of Philosophy 3, pros. 2). Now such is the divine perfection that it contains every perfection with simplicity, as shown above.¹ Therefore, he is truly happy.

Again. As long as a person lacks that which he needs, he is not yet happy: for his desire is not yet set at rest. Therefore, anyone who is self-sufficient, needing nothing, is happy. Now it was proved above¹ that God does not need other things, since his perfection depends on nothing outside him: nor does he will other things for his own sake as their end, as though he needed them, but merely because this is befitting his goodness. Therefore, he is happy.

Sacred Scripture also bears witness to his happiness: this will be made manifest at the proper time by the blessed and only sovereign (1 Tim 6:15).

That God is his own happiness

It follows from this that God is his own happiness.

For his happiness is his intellectual operation, as we have shown,¹ and it was proved above² that God’s act of intelligence is his substance. Therefore, he is his own happiness.

Again. Happiness, since it is the last end, is that which everyone wills principally, whether he has a natural inclination for it, or possesses it already. Now it has been proved¹ that God principally wills his essence. Therefore, his essence is his happiness.

Further. Whatever a person wills, he directs to his happiness: for happiness is what is not desired on account of something else, and is the term of the movement of desire in one who desires one thing for the sake of another, lest movement be infinite. Since, then, God wills all other things for the sake of his goodness, which is his essence¹ it follows that he is his own happiness, even as he is his own essence and his own goodness.²

That God’s happiness is perfect and singular, surpassing all other happiness

Furthermore, from what has been said we are able to consider the excellence of the divine happiness.

For the nearer a thing is to happiness, the more perfectly is it happy. Hence, although a person be called happy on account of his hope of obtaining happiness, his happiness can in no way be compared to the happiness of one who has already actually obtained it. Now that which is happiness itself is nearest of all to happiness, and this has been proved¹ to be true of God. Therefore, he is singularly and perfectly happy.

Again. Since joy is caused by love, as was proved¹ where there is greater love, there is greater joy in possessing the thing loved. Now, other things being equal, every being loves itself more than another. A sign of this is that the nearer a thing is to one, the more is it naturally loved. Therefore, God rejoices more in his own happiness, which is himself, than the other blessed in their happiness, which is not themselves. Therefore, his happiness sets his desire more at rest, and is more perfect.

Moreover. Happiness consists in the perfect operation of the intellect, as we have proved.¹ Now no other intellectual operation is comparable with his operation. This is evident not only from its being a subsistent operation, but also because by the one operation God understands himself perfectly as he is, as well as all things, both those which are and those which are not, both good and evil.² But in other intelligent beings, their act of understanding themselves is not subsistent, but the act of a subsistence. Nor can anyone understand God, the supremely intelligible, as perfectly as he perfectly is, since no one’s being is perfect as the divine being is perfect, and no being’s operation can be more perfect than its substance. Nor is there any other intellect that knows all those things even which God can make, for then it would comprehend the divine power. Moreover, whatever things another intellect knows, it knows them not all by one same operation. Therefore, God is incomparably happy above all things.

Again. The more united a thing is, the more perfect its power and goodness. Now a successive operation is divided according to various portions of time. Therefore, its perfection can in no way be compared with the perfection of that operation which is simultaneously whole without any succession, especially if it does not pass away in an instant but abides eternally. Now the divine act of intelligence is void of succession, since it exists eternally and simultaneously whole,¹ whereas our act of understanding is successive, insofar as it is accidentally connected with continuity and time. Therefore, God’s happiness infinitely surpasses man’s, even as the duration of eternity surpasses the flowing “now” of time.

Again. Weariness, the various occupations which in this life must interrupt our contemplation (in which especially consists human happiness, if there be any in this life), errors, doubts, and the various misfortunes to which the present life is subject—all these show that human happiness, especially in this life, cannot bear comparison with the happiness of God.

Moreover. The perfection of the divine happiness may be gathered from the fact that it comprises all manner of happiness in the most perfect way.¹ In regard to contemplative happiness, it contains the most perfect everlasting consideration of himself and other things. In regard to active happiness, it comprises the governance, not of one man’s life, or of one household or city or kingdom, but of the whole universe.

False and earthly happiness is but a shadow of that most perfect happiness. For it consists of five things, according to Boethius: namely, pleasure, wealth, power, honor, and renown.¹ But God has the most supreme pleasure in himself, and universal joy in all good things, without any admixture of the contrary.² For wealth he possesses in himself an all-sufficiency of all good things, as we have proved above.³ For power he has infinite might.⁴ For honor he has supremacy and governance over all things.⁵ For renown he has the admiration of every intellect which knows him in any degree whatever.⁶

Thus, to him who is singularly happy, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.