Proceeding to the first, it seems that to enjoy is an act of the intellect.¹

However, due to the vision, the very thing seen, since it is not seen through a likeness but through its essence, is in a certain way made to be within the seer; and that is the embracing that succeeds hope, following upon the vision that succeeds faith, just as hope is, in a way, generated by faith. But owing to the fact that the very one seen is received into the seer, he unites the very seer to himself, such that there may take place a sort of mutual penetration through love. Thus it says in 1 John 4:16, he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. Now, upon this union of what is maximally fitting follows the highest delight; and in this our happiness is complete—which “enjoyment” names more from the side of its completion than from its beginning, since enjoyment includes in itself a certain delight. And therefore we say that it is an act of will, and according to the habit of charity, although it follows an order to preceding powers and habits.

As regards the second, we proceed as follows.¹ It appears that to use is an act of reason.

“To use” is also sometimes meant in reference to things that are ordered to some end. And this is how “to use” is meant here, in reference to the first definition that is laid down. Now, what is for an end is employed for its end in three activities. The first is the activity of reason establishing the end and ordering and directing things to it. The second is the activity of the will commanding it. And the third is the activity of the motive power of executing it. However, “to use” names the execution of what is ordered to the end, not according to the proper act of any of the motive powers, but universally, presupposing their ordination to the end. Whence it is an act of the will, which is the universal mover of one’s powers according to their order to reason.

To the second we proceed as follows. It appears that we do not enjoy God by one enjoyment.

Next we ask about the things that can be used, whether one should use all things other than God. And it seems that one should not.

Furthermore, just as God has perfect power, so he has perfect goodness. But it pertains to the perfection of his power that nothing has existence except as produced by him. Therefore also it pertains to the divine goodness that nothing be loved except what is in order to him.

Furthermore (7), from this one also concludes that neither does God enjoy himself, since he does not stand in need of himself.

Reply Sed Contra 6: Something needs something else in two ways. Either it needs it as that on which it depends for its existence—and in this way all things need God, since, according to Gregory,¹ all things would tend into nothingness unless they were held up by the hand of their Creator; for he is a cause not only of the coming to be of things, but also of their being. And in this way even the blessed need God. In the other way, one is said to need something that he does not yet have; and in this way they do not need him.

Reply Sed Contra 7: This should be understood to be the case whenever the one enjoying and the one he enjoys are diverse in essence, which is not the case in the divine enjoyment. And therefore he himself perfectly enjoys his very self. This is why, commenting on Job 40:5, be glorious, and put on beautiful garments, Gregory says, he himself is glorious who, while he enjoys his very self, stands in no need of seeking praise.¹

And in the same way, one does not need the things derived from the principles for the knowledge of principles that he already knows through themselves, and yet neither does he lose the knowledge of the things derived from the principles—indeed, that knowledge is perfected through the principles.

And so it is in the progress of a man toward God, who comes to God through created things. When God has been possessed, he does not need the created things for the sake of possessing him; rather, through him he comes to the perfect use of all other things. So it is also in the progression of nature that form is acquired through dispositions such that, when the form is possessed, it is the principle of all the accidents. And so one finds it to be the case in all other things.

Reply Sed Contra: We grant the other side.

As regards the text, there is a question about what is said at it has become clear to us that the study of the sacred page is principally concerned with things or with signs.¹ For this division seems inappropriate, insofar as the same thing can be a sign and a real thing; for example, the true Body of Christ is both, as is the character in baptism. Furthermore, he himself says that every sign is a reality,² and so it appears that this is not a division of opposites. Moreover, all created things are a sign of the divine goodness, and thus it seems that nearly all the things treated in this doctrine are signs. To this, one should say that such a division is not made through opposed realities, but through opposed accounts, according to the absolute and the relative. For a sign is what is instituted for signifying something, but a reality is what has an absolute signification, one not related to another. Whence it is not unfitting that the same thing be a sign and a reality in respect to diverse things, just as the same man is a father and a son. Whence the solution to the first objection is clear. But to the second, it is said that “real thing” is taken in two ways in the procedure of this statement. For it is taken commonly for every being—and in this way every sign is a real thing—and it is also taken strictly for what is only a real thing and not a sign. And in this latter way it is divided from “sign.” To the third, I say that although created things are a sign of something, still they have not been principally instituted for the sake of this, and therefore they are not contained under signs, except in a certain respect.

Next, one might ask about what is said at and we will first discuss things, and afterwards signs.¹ For it seems that in the Sentences he should first treat signs, since real things are learned about through signs, as it says in the text.² So we come to the knowledge of realities through the knowledge of their signs. To this one should say that it follows that one should consider the signs before the realities that are signified through those signs if the signs and realities are of the same order. However, sacramental signs [treated in Book IV] are not related in this way to the things that are treated in Books I–III. Or one should say that the order to be followed in receiving knowledge is other than that in imparting it. For one receiving knowledge proceeds from signs to the things signified by what is, as it were, a mode of resolution, since signs are more known to him; but someone imparting the knowledge of signs must manifest the realities before signs, in that signs are taken from a likeness with the realities, so one must first know the realities in order to know their signs, according to whose likeness they are taken.

Next, one might ask about what he says at we . . . are . . . placed, as it were, between the two other types of things.¹ For it seems from this that man is intermediate between things that can be used and things that can be enjoyed—the contrary of which seems the case from the fact that virtue is contained among things that can be used. But virtue is among the greatest goods, according to Augustine,² the things that no one uses badly. Moreover, natural powers are intermediate goods, which are the things that someone can use badly or well. And thus it seems that the virtues are higher than man. To this one should say that the order of goods can be considered in two ways. It can be considered through a comparison to the rectitude of life; and in this way virtue, which is through itself the cause of such rectitude, is the greatest good; however, a natural power, which is as material for such rectitude, is intermediate; and other realities that are exterior little helps are the least goods. And the order of goods can also be considered according to one’s progression into beatitude; and in this way the very thing beatifying one will be the greatest good, and one participating in beatitude will be the intermediate, and what disposes him to it will be the least.

Moreover, one might ask about this: there are some things which are to be enjoyed, others which are to be used, and yet others which enjoy and use.¹ For everything that is, is either an end or for the sake of the end. But what can be enjoyed has the account of an end, whereas what can be used has the account of things that are for the sake of the end. Therefore the useable and the enjoyable sufficiently divide things, so a third member of the division is superfluous, especially when he himself later says that men, who both use and enjoy, are themselves to be used. To this one should say that something is ordered to an end in two ways, either as one making progress toward the end—and in this way, the one enjoying and using is for the sake of the end—or as the path to the end—and in this way, the useable is for the sake of the end. Whence the useable does not embrace all things that are for the end, unless it be taken very broadly. Nor is it unfitting if the same thing be contained under two members, since the division is based on opposed accounts, not on opposed realities.

Moreover, one asks about this: to use is to apply whatever comes into use in order to obtain that which is to be used.¹ It seems that this explains use badly, since “use” is not more known than “to use,” so it seems that this definition is not given through things that are more known. To this one should say that the entire expression “whatever comes into use” is put here in place of the one expression, and is a circumlocution of what I call the “useable,” which is the object of the act of using. But an act is fittingly defined through its object.

One further asks about this: it is not easy to find a name that suitably fits such an excellence,¹ namely, for what cause is this said? To this one should say that we impose names on things insofar as they come into our knowledge, and because we receive knowledge from created things, we impose names according to the mode of created things. Now, things that are in created things are not in the same way in God, but rather in a more excellent way, so the names that we impose are not sufficient to signify God, just as it is clear that names signifying in the abstract signify an imperfect thing that does not subsist through itself, such as “humanity” or “whiteness,” whereas concrete names signify something composed—neither of which befits the divine nobility.

One further asks about this: the more tolerably do we endure our pilgrimage, and the more ardently we desire to come to its end.¹ For the contrary seems to be the case, based on what is said in Proverbs 13:12: hope deferred makes the heart sick, and also from the fact that we know in a mirror and we desire his presence, we endure his absence less tolerably. To this one should say that insofar as hope is for a thing desired that is absent, this is a cause of affliction, but insofar as the reality desired becomes in some way present through hope and imperfect knowledge, this offers a certain delight.

Next, one asks about what is said here: it is to be noted that this same Augustine . . . taking use and enjoyment in another sense from the above, says.¹ For of a single thing there is a single definition, just as there is a single being, so one should not give multiple definitions of “use” and “enjoyment.” To this one should say that if one finds a definition that might signify the being of a reality according to its relation to all its proper causes, it would be the most perfect, and the only one; but one finds many definitions that make known the being of a reality according to diverse causes. This is why one definition is given through the final cause, another through the formal, and so on. There are also found other definitions that make it known based on properties consequent on the being of the reality, and such also can be many.

One should therefore say that, as regards the present case, the first definition of “enjoyment”—namely, to enjoy is to adhere in love to some thing for its own sake¹—is given through relation to its object and the habit eliciting the act, but the second—namely, we enjoy the things that we know, in which the will finds delight for their own sake and comes to rest²—is given through its relation to the power of which it is the act according to its order to a preceding power, that is, the cognitive power; the third—that is, to enjoy is to use with the joy, no longer of hope, but of the thing itself³—is given through a property consequent on the act, insofar as it is perfected: namely, the joy over the thing possessed. Likewise one should say of the definition of “use”—namely, to use is to apply whatever comes into use in order to obtain which is to be enjoyed⁴—that it is given through a relation to its object and to the end of using, properly so said. The other, however—namely, to use is to place something in the power of the will⁵—is given of “use” taken commonly, through its relation to one’s active and universally moving power.

Next, as regards him saying, neither does he use us in the same manner in which we use other things,¹ note that he is showing the difference between our use and the divine use in two respects. For he refers his use, wherein he uses things, to his own goodness, but we refer our use not to our own goodness, but to his. Furthermore, we refer our use, by which we act as regards things, to our own utility, whereas he refers his use not to his own utility, but to ours. And he shows this first in his works of mercy, and that is clear, and second in his works of creation. For he made us on account of his own goodness, and therefore Augustine says, because he is good, we exist,² and from the fact that we exist, we have goodness, and this benefits us. Hence he says, inasmuch as we exist, we are good.³ And thus it is clear that this work is for our utility. Third, he shows it in his work of justice, for he punishes us on account of his own goodness; and therefore he says, because God is also just, we are not evil with impunity,⁴ since his justice is his goodness. And this too goes to our utility, since we are punished for our evil so that we might withdraw from evil, and thus from non-being; this is why he says, insofar as we are evil, so much also is our existence lessened,⁵ since to the degree that we are more evil, we exist less, since evil is a privation. Whence, to the degree that evil is multiplied in us, so much further distant do we become from perfect being.

Next, one asks about what he says here: because God is good, we exist.¹ For this seems false, since, as Boethius says,² if goodness is removed from God by our intellect, many other beings will still remain, but not good ones. Therefore we do not exist because he is good.

Furthermore, one asks about what he says here: insofar as we exist, we are good.¹ For the account of the good and that of being are different, and so it seems false to say this. I answer that although good and being differ according to their intentions, since the account of the good and that of being are different, still they are convertible according to their supposits. For every existence is from the good and for the good. Whence “insofar as” does not indicate an identity of intention, but an equality of the supposits of the good and of being.

Furthermore, one might say that that difference is the same in species for both gods, but differs only in number.

As regards the second we proceed as follows.¹ It seems that in the divine essence there is no plurality of attributes.

And because each of them is in God according to its truest account, and the account of wisdom is not the account of goodness, as such, it remains that they are diverse in account, and not only on the side of the one so reasoning, but due to a property of the reality itself. And this is why he is not a wholly equivocal cause of things, since according to his own form he produces like effects—not univocally like, but analogically; for example, from his own wisdom is derived every wisdom, and so on for the other attributes, following the teaching of Dionysius.¹ Whence he himself is the exemplar form of realities, not only with respect to the things that are within his own wisdom, that is, according to their ideal accounts, but even with respect to the things that exist within their own nature, that is, the attributes.

However, some say that such attributes do not differ from each other except as made known in created things. But this cannot be so, first, because a cause does not have anything from its effect, but rather the converse, so God is not called “wise” because wisdom comes from him; rather, created things are called “wise” insofar as they imitate the divine wisdom; and second, because created things did not exist from eternity, even if they were never going to exist it was true to say that he is wise, good, and the like. Nor is altogether the same thing signified through the one and the other, the way that the same thing is signified through synonymous names.

As regards the third, we proceed as follows.¹ It seems that the plurality of accounts, according to which the attributes differ, is in no way in God, but is only in the intellect of the one reasoning about them.

Furthermore, one might say that there is no likeness between the personal relations and the essential attributes, since in God there are only two categories, that is, substance and relation. Whence the account of relation is other than the account of substance, yet the account of wisdom and that of the other absolute attributes is other than substance.

One should note that it pertains to the first that an account, as it is being taken here, is nothing other than what the intellect apprehends of the signification of some name. And in things that have definition, this is the very definition of the thing, with respect to which the Philosopher says, the definition is the account that the name signifies.¹ But some things that are not defined are also said to have an account (spoken of this way), like quantity, quality, and so on, which are not defined because they are the most general genera. And yet the account of quality is what is signified by the name “quality,” and this is that from which a quality has it that it be a quality. Whence it does not matter whether the things that are said to have an account also have or do not have a definition. And thereby it is clear that the account of wisdom, which is said of God, is what is conceived of the signification of this name, even though the divine wisdom itself cannot be defined. Yet neither does this name “account” signify the conception itself, since this is signified through the name “wisdom” or through another name of a reality; rather, “account” signifies the intention of this conception, as does even this name “definition,” and so too other names of second imposition.

And from this the second item—how an account is said to be in a real thing—becomes clear. For this is not said as if the very intention that the name “account” signifies is in the reality, or even that the very conception, to which such an intention belongs, is in the reality outside the soul, since it is in the soul as in its subject. Rather, it is said to be in the reality insofar as in the reality outside the soul there is something that corresponds to the conception of the soul, as the signified corresponds to its sign. Whence one must notice that the very conception of the intellect is related in three ways to the reality outside the soul.

For sometimes what the intellect conceives is a likeness of the reality existing outside the soul, for example, what is conceived of this reality with the name “man”; and such a conception of the intellect has a foundation in the reality immediately, insofar as the reality itself, due to its conformity with the intellect, makes the understanding true, and makes the name signifying that understanding properly to be said of the reality.

But sometimes what a name signifies is not a likeness of a reality existing outside the soul; rather, it is something that follows from the mode of understanding the reality that is outside the soul. Of this sort are the intentions that our intellect comes to; for example, what is signified by the name “genus” is not a likeness of some reality existing outside the soul; but rather, from the fact that the intellect understands animal as within many species, it attributes to it the intention of genus. And although the proximate foundation of intentions of this sort is not in the reality but in the intellect, still the remote foundation is the reality itself. Whence the intellect that comes to these intentions is not false. And it is the same way for all the other things that follow from the mode of understanding, as is the abstraction of mathematical objects and the like.

And sometimes what is signified through the name has neither a proximate nor a remote foundation in the reality, such as the conception of a chimera. For it is neither the likeness of any reality outside the soul, nor does it follow from the mode of truly understanding any reality. And thus, such a conception is false. Thereby becomes clear the second item—that an account is said to be in a reality insofar as what is signified by its name, to which the account belongs, is in the reality. And this occurs properly when the conception of the intellect is a likeness of the reality.

As regards the third item—whether the accounts of the attributes are in God—one should note that there appear to be two opinions about this. For some, like Avicenna and Rabbi Moses,¹ say that that reality that is God is a certain subsistent existence, nor is there anything else in God except existence. Whence they say that he is existence without essence. However, all the other things that are attributed to God are true of God in two ways, according to them: either through the mode of negation, or through the mode of causality. This is done through the mode of negation in two ways: either for the sake of removing a privation or opposite defect, such that we call God “wise” in order to remove the defect in those who lack wisdom; or insofar as something follows on a negation, as is the case with the name “one,” as he is one from the very fact that he is not divided; likewise, from the very fact that he is immaterial, he is also intelligent. Whence, according to them, all such names have been invented to remove—rather than to assert—something in God. Furthermore, it is done through the mode of causality in two ways: either insofar as he produces such things in what is created, such that God is called “good” because he pours goodness into created things, and so on for other names; or insofar as he relates to us according to the mode of a created thing, such that God is called “willing” or “holy” insofar as he relates to us in the mode of one who wills or is holy in his manner of producing an effect, just as he is called “angry” because he relates to us in the mode of someone who is angry.

And according to this opinion it follows that all the names that are said of God and created things are said equivocally, and that there is no likeness between the created and the Creator arising from the fact that a created thing is good or wise or the like. And Rabbi Moses says this explicitly. According to this, what is conceived from the names of the attributes is not referred to God such that it is a likeness of something in him. Whence it follows that the accounts of these names are not in God as having their proximate foundation in him, but as having a remote one, just as we ourselves say about relations said of God in reference to time. For such relations are not in God according to reality; rather, they follow the mode of understanding, just as was said of intentions. And thus, according to this opinion, the accounts of these attributes are only in the intellect, and not in the reality that is God, and the intellect comes to them from a consideration of created things either through negation or through causality, as was said.

Others, like Dionysius and Anselm, say that whatever there is of perfection in created things is in God preeminently.¹ And this eminence is noted in three respects: with respect to universality, since although all perfections are not gathered together in any one creature, they are so united in God; with respect to fullness, since wisdom is there without any defect, and the same is true of the other attributes, which is not the case in created things; and with respect to unity, for things that are divided in created things are one in God. And because in that one he has all, thus according to that one he causes all, knows all, and makes them all like him through analogy. Therefore, according to this opinion, the conceptions that our intellect conceives from the names of the attributes are truly likenesses of the reality that is God, although they are deficient and not full, just as is the case for other realities that are like God. Whence such accounts are not merely in the intellect, since they have their proximate foundation in the reality that is God. And from this it arises that whatever follows upon wisdom, as such, rightly and properly speaking belongs to God.

However, these opinions, although they appear diverse on the surface, nonetheless are not contrary, if one takes the accounts of the claims from the causes for saying them. For the first group considered the created realities themselves, on which the names of the attributes are imposed; for example, the name “wisdom” is imposed on a certain quality, and the name “essence” is imposed on some reality that does not subsist—and these things are a long ways from God. And therefore they say that God is existence without essence, and that wisdom according to itself is not in him. But the others considered the modes of perfection, from which the aforesaid names are taken. And because God is perfect in all ways according to one simple existence, which modes of perfection are indicated through these names, therefore they said that such names belong to God in a positive way. Thus it is clear that neither of these opinions denies what the other says, since the first ones do not say that some mode of perfection is absent from God, and the second ones do not assert the presence of a quality or a non-subsisting reality in God.

Therefore in this way the third item—that the accounts of the attributes are truly in God—becomes clear. For the account of a name stands on the side of that due to which the name is imposed more than on the side of that on which it is imposed.

As regards the fourth item—whether the plurality of these accounts is only on the side of our intellect, or is also in some way on the side of the real thing—one should note that such plurality of accounts arises from the fact that the reality that is God surpasses our intellect. For our intellect cannot receive diverse modes of perfection by means of one conception. For we receive knowledge from created things, wherein the diverse modes of perfections exist according to their diverse forms. This is also because what in God is one and simple becomes manifold in our understanding—even if we were to receive it immediately from God—just as the procession of his goodness is multiplied in the different creatures. Whence, since God is perfect in all ways according to one and the same reality, one cannot apprehend his perfection in an integral way by a single conception, and consequently neither can one so name him. And therefore one must have diverse conceptions of him, which are the diverse accounts, and one must impose diverse names signifying those accounts. Whence those names are not synonyms, inasmuch as they signify diverse accounts.

If, however, our intellect were to see God through his very self, it would be able to impose one name on that thing. And this will happen in the heavenly fatherland; therefore Zachariah 14:9 says, on that day the Lord will be one and his name one. However, that one name would signify not only goodness, or only wisdom, or the like; rather, it would include all the things that are signified in all such names. Nevertheless if an intellect seeing God through his essence were to impose a name on the reality that it sees, and were to name it by the mediation of the conception that it has of it, it would still have to impose many names. For it is impossible for the conception of a created intellect to represent the entire perfection of the divine essence. Whence it would form diverse conceptions when the one reality has been seen, and it would impose diverse names; for example, Chrysostom also says¹ that the angels praise God, some as majesty, others as goodness, and so on, as a sign that they do not see him with a vision that comprehends him. Rather, the conception that perfectly represents him is the uncreated Word, and therefore it is only one.

In this way, then, it is clear that the plurality of the names comes from the fact that God himself exceeds our intellect. However, the fact that God exceeds our intellect is due both to God himself, on account of the fullness of his perfection, and to our intellect, which stands in a deficient way as regards comprehending him. Whence it is clear that the plurality of these accounts is not only on the side of our intellect, but also on the side of God himself, insofar as his perfection surpasses every conception of our intellect. And therefore something in the reality that is God corresponds to the plurality of these accounts—though this is not a plurality of the reality, but rather the full perfection, from which it arises that all such conceptions are conformed to him.

Therefore those who say that such plurality is only on the side of our intellect or on the side of his effects in a way speak the truth, and in a way do not. For if this is referred to the cause of the multiplication, they speak the truth that it is in a certain way on the side of our intellect and the effects, because our intellect cannot conceive the divine perfection with one conception, but only with many; one reason for this is that it is accommodated to created things. However, if this is referred to the mode by which such accounts are attributed to God, they speak falsely. For he is not good from the fact that he does good things, or because he relates to us according to the mode of good things; rather, he does good things because he is good, and other things by participating in his goodness relate to us according to his mode. Whence even if he had not created, and were not going to create, he would in himself be such that he could truly be considered according to all these conceptions that our intellect now has in considering him.

And thereby the fourth item is clear, that the plurality of these names is not only on the side of our intellect forming the diverse conceptions about God, which are called the “diverse accounts,” as is clear from things said in the previous article. Rather, it is also on the side of God himself, insofar as there is something in God corresponding to all these conceptions, that is, his full and total perfection, according to which it arises that each of the names signifying these conceptions is said truly and properly of God. However, this is not in such a way that any diversity or multiplicity is placed in the reality that is God by reason of such attributes.

Furthermore, a distinction of reason is not enough for a distinction of supposits, since one and the same man can have diverse accounts in himself, and since “supposit” signifies something real. If, therefore, in the divine there is only the distinction of reason, there will not be a true plurality of persons there, which is heretical.

The Trinity is said . . . to be of one and the same substance, or essence.¹ He says both because substance is not said properly here, as will be explained below, in Distinction 8.²

Believed, and understood.¹ These are ordered according to how faith in the believer is acquired. For first there is the word of the preacher, as is said in Romans 10:14: how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without a preacher? Second, there is the assent of faith in the very one who believes; and lastly, through faith one comes to understanding: if you will not believe, you will not understand (Isa 7:9).²

The Trinity . . . is the highest good discerned by the most purified minds.¹ But this discernment of the highest good occurs in different ways. For the mind must be purified from sensible and imaginable things for it to be seen by natural knowledge, but for it to be discerned through faith, the mind must be purified from errors and natural reasonings, and for it to be seen through its essence the mind must be purified from every fault and misery.

For the weak sharpness of the human mind is not fixed in this highest light.¹ He is speaking of the gaze of the mind according to a likeness with bodily sight. For just as we cannot fasten our eyes on an extremely luminous thing, so too our mind cannot be held on the excellence of the divine light, such that it might determinately know anything, except through faith. Whence even the philosophers fell into diverse errors, and therefore the Philosopher says, as the eye of the bat is related to the light of the sun, so too our intellect is related to things most manifest by nature.²

Without being cleansed through the justice of faith.¹ “Justice” here is being taken for general justice, which is the rectitude of the soul in its relation to God and neighbor, and of one power to another. And it is called the “justice of faith” because in becoming just the first motion is that of faith, as is said in Hebrews 11:6: whoever would draw near to God must believe.

I do not approve what I said in a prayer: ‘God, who willed that none but the pure should know the truth.’¹ This little note is appended to exclude a false understanding that one could have of things he said previously, namely, that God could in no way be known by sinners.

With regard to no other matter is error more dangerous.¹ For this is the foundation of our entire faith, by whose destruction the entire edifice collapses. Whence even the Philosopher says that a small error in the beginning is greatest in the end.²

Or discovery more fruitful.¹ For knowledge of the Trinity in unity is the fruit and end of our entire life.

Where I said of the Father and the Son: ‘The one who begets and the one who is begotten is one,’ I ought to have said, ‘they are one.’¹ This little note is appended to correct what he asserted in a text² regarding the word “am/are/is” being predicated in the singular of the three persons. The reason why he said it was because it signifies substance, which is one for the three persons. But later he retracted this because, although it signifies substance, nonetheless it signifies it through the mode of act, and acts are numbered according to supposits. Whence it should be predicated of the three persons in the plural.

First, here are the very first words of the law,¹ that is, where the precepts of the law first begin to be stated, at Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 6.

As Ambrose says . . . : ‘for God and Lord is a name of nature and power.’¹ It seems that “God” is not the name of a nature, because of the derivatives of this name (Theos) that Damascene points out.² For he says that Theos,³ which is “God,” is said from ethin,⁴ which is to burn, for the Lord your God is a devouring fire (Deut 4:24). It is also said from theaste,⁵ which is to contemplate or see, since he sees all things, or from thein,⁶ which is to run, or nourish, because he goes through all things, preserving and holding all things together—all of which indicate an activity, therefore and so on. Furthermore, “Lord” is a relative term according to existence, so it does not signify power, but rather relation. To the first argument, then, I say that this name “God” can be considered in two ways: either with respect to what the name is imposed from, which is, as it were, the quality of the name, and in this way it is the name of an activity, following Damascene; or with respect to what it is imposed on, which is the substance signified by the name, and in this way it is the name of a nature, because it is imposed to signify the divine nature. To the second, I say that relations are founded on something that is their cause within the subject, like equality being founded on quantity, and lordship on power. Whence Boethius says⁷ that lordship is the power of coercing those subject to it, and Dionysius says⁸ that lordship is not only being above those worse than oneself, that is, of subjects, but it is also the total and perfect possession of good and beautiful things, and a true and infallible strength. This is because for someone to be a lord he must have riches and power, and the relation of lordship is founded on these two things.

In Genesis, the Lord shows at once the plurality of persons and the unity of nature.¹ Note that Augustine and Hilary—based on this authority, let us make man in our image, and after our likeness (Gen 1:26)—try to show the unity of the essence and the plurality of the persons from the four words present there, but in different ways.² For Augustine considers only the consignification of number in them, so through let us make and our he shows the Trinity, but through the words image and likeness he shows the unity of the essence. However, Hilary intends to show each of these things from each of these four, as follows. For likeness signifies a relation caused by a unity of quality, which relation requires distinct supposits, since likeness is the same quality of different things. Whence by reason of the fact that he causes a likeness, he shows the unity of the essence, which is the same goodness and wisdom, or whatever else is signified in the manner of a quality. Nor can a numerical diversity of goodness be there, as has been proved; rather, the distinction of the supposits is designated on the side of relation. And the account of the name image is the same, for it signifies the imitation of one thing by another in reference to some one thing. And this is touched upon where it says, Hilary too . . . says that by these words signify that in the Trinity there is neither diversity, nor singularity, nor solitude, but likeness and plurality.³ Likewise also he takes both from the side of the two expressions let us make and our: he takes the plurality of persons by reason of the plural number, but the unity of the essence by reason of the companionship, which is designated in each. For companionship must be in something one, and because in the divine there cannot be something one in species but diverse in number, it must be one in number. And he touches on this, at the same Hilary, in book 4: ‘he wished this expression to be understood more absolutely not to be referred to himself alone.’⁴ They also differ as regards something else, since Augustine appears to take the likeness and image as being only of man relative to God, but Hilary takes the likeness and image as being of one person to another, and says that man approaches this likeness as far as he can. Hilary says there is no diversity, on account of a division of essence; no singularity, on account of the incommunicability of the divine nature; no solitude, lest one take away the fellowship of the persons, which exists through the union of love; but there is likeness, as opposed to diversity, and plurality, as opposed to singularity, and distinction, as opposed to solitude.

Hilary speaks of the identification of a maker,¹ in reference to its saying, let us make, and the work of making² in reference to the work itself.

The Master says David is the greatest prophet¹ as regards the mode his revelation, which occurs through an intellectual vision, and as regards the privilege of the promised seed.

The Lord possessed me at the beginning of his ways.¹ This is speaking about the Son, insofar as wisdom is appropriated to him. However, God is said to possess wisdom because he alone has it perfectly. For what is possessed is had at a nod, whence the Philosopher says that the divine science is a divine, not a human possession.² Of his ways,³ that is, of created things, through which one goes to the Lord.

From eternity I was ordained,¹ according to the order of nature, which is that of the Son to the Father, and according to the order of the cause, which is that of the idea to what it is an idea of. I was already conceived;² he is said to have been conceived because he is contained in the unity of the essence of the Father. I was brought forth,³ insofar as he went forth from the Father through the distinction of persons.

By the hinges upon which the earth would rest¹ is meant the extremities of the earth, according to Isidore,² or the causes on which the lands and the things on the lands, as it were, turn and are conserved. And delighting, as a companion of the paternal glory, in each day,³ insofar as the accounts of created things within God are light, although created things in themselves are shadows, as I played, on account of the leisure of wisdom’s contemplation.⁴ For just as the activities of play are not desired for the sake of something else, but possess their delight within their very selves, so too is the contemplation of wisdom.

Truth can be known ‘in the midst of two animals.’¹ This is taken from Habakkuk 3:2, according to a different text.² And by the two animals are signified the two Testaments.

‘With tongs’ can be taken ‘from the altar the coal’ with which the mouths of the faithful may be touched.¹ This is said based on Isaiah 6, and by tongs, which have two arms, the two Testaments are signified, and by the coal is signified the truth of Sacred Scripture. Whence Psalm 119 [118]:140 says, your eloquence was burned vehemently.²

Furthermore (7), as was said, and even according to the Philosopher,¹ the ultimate end of human life is the contemplation of God. Therefore if man could not reach this, he would have been so constituted in vain, since, according to the Philosopher,² the vain is what is for some end that it does not reach. And this is unfitting, as is said in Psalm 89:47 [88:48]: for have you constituted him in vain?³

Furthermore (8), as the Philosopher says,¹ the intelligible differs from the sensible in that what is exceedingly sensible destroys the sense, whereas the greatest intelligible does not destroy the intellect, but rather strengthens it. Therefore, since God is in himself the most intelligible thing there is, because he is the first intelligible, it seems that he could be understood by our intellect. For this understanding would be impeded only on account of his own excellence.

Reply Sed Contra 6–7: We concede the other arguments.

Reply Sed Contra 8: Yet as regards the last argument, when it concludes that God is right now the thing most known by us, one should reply that in a certain way there is a likeness between the intellect and sense, and in certain way they are unlike. For they are like in that just as sense cannot be for what is not proportioned to it, so too neither can intellect, since every knowledge exists through the mode of the knower, according to Boethius.¹ However, they differ in that what is exceedingly intelligible does not corrupt the knowing power, as does the exceedingly sensible. And so, the intellect falls short of knowing the exceedingly intelligible not because it is corrupted by it, but rather because it does not reach it. Therefore the created intellect cannot see God perfectly.

Furthermore, whatever is the conclusion of a demonstration is not known through itself. But the existence of God is demonstrated even by philosophers.¹ Therefore the existence of God is not known through itself.

And the reason for this is that things that are known to us through themselves are made known right away through sensation; for example, upon seeing a whole and a part, right away we know that every whole is greater than its part, without any inquiry. This is why the Philosopher says, we know the principles when we know the terms.¹ But we do not come to God upon seeing sensible things, except progressively, insofar as such things are caused, and we understand that everything caused is due to some agent causing it, and that the first agent cannot be a body. And thus, we do not come to God except through argumentation, and no such thing is known through itself. This is Avicenna’s argument.²

Reply Sed Contra: And one can speak likewise as regards the other proof.

Furthermore (6), it seems that neither is this so for an angel. For what is known through itself is not known through something else. But angels know God through themselves, seeing him within their own essence. Therefore they do not know him through created things.

Furthermore (7), it appears that neither is it possible for brutes. For no power attached to an organ has the power to know anything but a material species, in that knowledge is in the knower according to the mode of the latter. But brutes have only sensory cognitive powers, which are attached to an organ. Therefore in no way can they know God, who is altogether immaterial.

Furthermore (8), it seems that neither is he known by sinners. For Ambrose says, on Matthew 5:8, blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God, that if they are pure in heart, they will see God, so then the others will not see him. For neither will the wicked see God, nor can someone see God who does not wish to see God.¹

Now, for someone to come to God from created things, two things are required: that he can in some manner take in God—and therefore such a progression of knowledge does fit the beasts; second, it is required that the divine knowledge begins in them from created things and ends at the Creator—and therefore to know God through created things does not fit the angels, nor even beatified men, who proceed from knowledge of the Creator to that of creatures. But this progression does fit men according to the state of the earthly path, both the good and the evil.

Reply Sed Contra 6–7: We concede the sixth and seventh arguments.

Reply Sed Contra 8: Ambrose is speaking of the vision of God through his essence, which will occur in the heavenly fatherland, to which no evil man will be able to reach. Likewise also no one except the believer comes to the knowledge of faith. But natural knowledge of God is common to both the good and the bad, believers and those who do not believe.

However, it is possible for there to be many middles between two extremes. Therefore it happens that the beginning, middle, and end can be assigned in diverse ways, insofar as from all of them, certain ones can be taken as a beginning, and certain others as a middle, and certain others as an end, by combining them in diverse ways. Thus it happens that parts of the vestige have been assigned in diverse ways by diverse people. For example, the first thing that pertains to the perfection of a thing are the very thing’s principles, and the last is the perfection of the thing according to its comparison with respect to other things, not only insofar as it is perfect in itself. But between these there are many middles. For there is the disposition of the principles: their inclination to the existence of what comes from the principles; also, the limitation of the principles under the form of what comes from the principles; the form of the very thing coming from the principles; and its power and activity and many other such things.

Therefore the vestige can be assigned such that only what is first, that is, the very substance of the principles, is taken as the “beginning,” and what immediately follows, that is, the principles’ disposition or inclination to the existence of the principle, is taken as the “middle,” and all that follows this is taken as the “end.” And this is how “number, weight, and measure” in Wisdom 11:20 is taken, since number pertains to the plurality of the principles, weight pertains to the inclination of the principles to the existence of what comes from them, and measure pertains to the limitation of the principles under the limited existence of the created thing, such that under such limitation is taken a limitation in existence, in activity, and in all other things.

It can also be taken another way, such that the principles’ very substance, inclination, and whatever else pertains to the principles are taken as the “beginning,” and the very form of what is from the principles is taken as the “middle,” and the thing’s very relation to things outside it is taken as the “last.” This is how Augustine’s words, what he establishes, what is discerned, and what is suitable,¹ are taken. For God establishes a thing through its own principles, it is discerned through its form, and it is made suitable through its relation to another; and mode, species, and order are, as it were, taken in a similar way, such that “mode” pertains to the principles determined under the existence of what comes from them, “species” pertains to the form, and “order” pertains to its relation to another. Or it can be taken such that these latter are the abstract and the former are the concrete. And in a somewhat similar way the one, the true, and the good are taken, such that the unity of a thing pertains to its determination as constituted by its principles, its truth is insofar as it has its form, and its good insofar as it is ordered to its end. The entire thing insofar as it too is perfected through its form can also be taken as the “beginning,” its power for the “middle,” and its activity for the “end”; this is how Dionysius takes them,² as the essence, power, and activity.

And thus it is clear that, insofar as the perfection of a thing can be understood to be limited at diverse termini, and insofar as one member of the three can include more or fewer, the diversity of the parts of a vestige is found in all things, according to one common designated account of “beginning, middle, and end.”

First, it can be considered according to the existence that it has in a subject—and in this way it has mode according to the measure of the capacity of its recipient, whether from its nature or from its exertion.

Or second, it can be considered according to its inclination to its object—and in this way it is understood not to have a mode; for the object, because it is infinite, is not proportionate to our will. Whence one can never love God as much as he ought to be loved, and as he wills to love himself.

Exposition of the first part of the text

Invisible things of God,¹ refers to the attributes by which God is perfect in himself; power is mentioned in reference to his production of created things; divinity is mentioned insofar as created things return to him as to their end. Or, invisible things refers to his activities, which are invisible, power to his might, and divinity to his essence.

Because of the excellence by which man stands above all other creatures.¹ On the contrary, an angel is more excellent than man, as it says in the Psalm: you have made him a little less than the angels (Ps 8:5 [6]).² To this I say that man and angel can be considered in three ways: either through their relation to the end—and thus they are equal, for men will be as the angels in heaven, as is said in Matthew 22:30; with respect to the divine restoration—and thus man is greater than an angel, insofar as human nature has been assumed into the unity of a divine person; or with respect to each nature in itself—and thus the angel’s nature is nobler. Or one could say that the world here³ is taken only as containing visible things, and in this way an angel is not counted among the creatures of the world that man exceeds.

From the perpetuity of creatures, the Creator is understood to be eternal.¹ For the cause is always nobler than what is caused, so if what is caused is perpetual, the first cause must be eternal; and so it is for the others.

The most perfect beauty is understood to be the Son.¹ Beauty consists in two things: in splendor and in the proportion of parts. However, truth has the account of splendor, and equality holds the place of proportion.

Division of the second part of the text

But now we have come to the debated point of where one may find the image of the Trinity in the human mind.¹ In this part he shows the Trinity of persons and the unity of the essence through a likeness of image. It is divided into three parts: in the first, he shows the substance of the image; in the second, he shows in what respect the image is being considered, at but see, the mind remembers, understands, and loves itself;² in the third, he takes us from the likeness of the image to the Trinity of persons, at in accordance with this consideration, . . . ‘let us believe that Father and Son and Holy Spirit are one God.’³

But see, the mind remembers, understands, and loves itself.¹ Here he makes inquiry as regards what the image attends to in the mind.

First, he assigns the image in reference to the powers;

second, he does so in reference to the habits, at the trinity in the soul, . . . can also be distinguished in another way and by other terms.¹

As regards the first he does three things: first, he assigns the parts of the image; second, he manifests in them the likeness of the three persons, at and so let us most particularly discuss these three things;¹ third, he manifests their dissimilarity, at and yet let him beware lest he so compare to its maker this image made by the Trinity as to believe it to be entirely like it.²

And so let us most particularly discuss these three things.¹ Here he shows the likeness of the persons within the three designated powers. And first he brings in a proof; second, he lays out a manifestation of the things said, at but the mind here is taken to stand for the spirit itself;² third, he excludes an objection, at here it is to be diligently examined.³

In the first, he does two things: first, he manifests the likeness as regards the distinction of persons and the unity of the essence; second, he does this as regards the equality of the persons, at also, they are equal not only each to each, but also each to all.¹ He shows this equality with the following argument. Whatever things include each other are equal to each other; but each of the aforesaid powers holds the other, and each holds all of them; therefore each is equal to each, and each of them is equal to all of them at once, as is so of the divine persons. He proves the minor premise at and I remember concurrently my whole memory and intelligence and will;² and he first does this for memory; second, for understanding, at similarly, when I understand these three, I understand all of them at once;³ and third, for will, at my will also contains my whole intelligence and my whole memory.⁴

He shows the first as follows. Whatever is present to the memory is in the memory. But the whole of memory itself is present to itself. Therefore it holds its entire self. Furthermore, whatever I understand and will, I know myself to understand and will. But whatever I know myself to understand and will is in my memory. Therefore memory holds its entire self, and the intellect and the will. Second, he proves the same thing about intelligence, in this way: everything that is not unknown is in the intellect, but whatever is willed or understood or held in memory is not unknown. Therefore every such thing is in the intellect. Therefore intelligence holds all three. Third, he shows the same thing about the will. For everything that I make use of is in my will, with whatever activity I use, because the will is the universal mover of one’s powers. But I use everything that I will or understand or remember. Therefore everything of this sort is in my will, and thus my will holds all of them. Having established this, he concludes to the likeness, at and so, since all of them in their entirety are mutually contained by each, they are each severally equal to each severally.¹

But the mind here is taken to stand for the spirit itself.¹ Here he manifests some of the things that he had said: and first, how “mind” should be taken; and second, how “memory” should be taken, at it is also to be noted.²

Here it is to be diligently examined in what sense is to be taken what was said above.¹ Here he removes an objection against what he has said, that the three aforesaid powers are one essence. And first he presents the objection; second, he presents its solution, at but we must now examine how these three can be termed one substance.² Now, the objection is drawn from two sources, first from the fact that no property is the essence to which the property belongs, whereas these powers are natural properties of the soul itself, so they are not the one essence of the soul. The second is presented at and these three also refer to themselves.³ And it is drawn from the fact that these powers are spoken of in relation to each other, whence they differ from each other. Therefore how all of them could be one essence appears wondrous.

And yet let him beware lest he so compare to its maker this image made by the Trinity as to believe it to be entirely like it.¹ Here he shows its unlikeness, and this is divided into two parts, according to the two dissimilarities. The second is at moreover, this image, which is man endowed with those three things, is one person.²

The Trinity in the soul . . . can also be distinguished in another way and by other terms.¹ Here he assigns the image in reference to the habits. And first he assigns the parts of the image; second, he proves the likeness, at these three things, even though they are mutually distinct, yet are said to be one;² third, he concludes his intention, at and so the rational mind, considering these three things and the one essence in which they exist, extends itself to the contemplation of the Creator.³ Moreover, he shows the likeness in three respects: first, as regards the distinction of the persons in the unity of the essence; second, as regards the procession of the persons, at and the mind is, as it were, the parent, and its knowledge is, as it were, its offspring;⁴ third, as regards their equality, at nor is the offspring less than the parent.⁵ This he shows in two ways: first, because to the degree that it is a mind, so far does it understand and love; second, because these three mutually contain each other, at these three things also exist severally in themselves.⁶

However, in all other things activity is an accident, and therefore the proximate principle of its activity must be an accident. We see this in bodies: the substantial form of fire has no activity except by mediation of active and passive qualities, which are, as it were, its virtues and powers. Likewise I say that no activity comes from the soul, since it is a substance, except by a mediating power, and neither does a perfect activity come from the power except by a mediating habit. Now, these powers flow from the essence of the soul itself, some as perfections of the parts of the body—the activity of which takes place with the body mediating, such as sensation, imagination, and the like—and some as being in the soul itself, the activity of which does not require a body, such as the intellect, the will, and the like. And therefore I say that these are accidents, but not that they are common accidents, which do not flow from the principles of the species but follow upon the principles of the individual, but rather as proper accidents, which do follow upon the species, having taken their origin from its principles. Yet they simultaneously belong to the integrity of the soul itself, insofar as it is a potential whole, possessing a certain perfection of power that is constituted of diverse capacities.

For a potential whole is, as it were, intermediate between an integral whole and a universal whole. For a universal is present in its every subjective part with respect to existence and perfect power, and therefore it is predicated properly of its part. But an integral whole is not present to its every part either with respect to existence or with respect to power. For the whole house is not in the wall, and neither is its entire power, and therefore in no way is it predicated of its part. A potential whole, however, is present in its every part with respect to its existence and with respect to something of its power, but not with respect to its perfect power; indeed, with respect to perfect power it is present only in its supreme power. And therefore the potential whole is indeed predicated of its part, but not quite so properly, the way a universal whole is.

Furthermore, if you say that the order is in the acts by reason of the objects, not by reason of the powers, this reduces to the same thing. For the objects are the perfections of the powers, and of their very forms, but a perfection is proportionate to what is perfectible, and so the same thing follows as before.

However, two sorts of equality can be attended to in the powers of the soul: that of power to power, and that of power to object. And this second equality is preserved here in diverse ways in reference to the diverse objects. For in things that are learned through an acquired habit, the order is not upheld, as was said above;¹ for the act of understanding precedes the act of remembering, so the actual representation of the Trinity itself is not there, insofar as it intends those objects that do not express the Trinity. However, a certain equality is upheld here, namely, that of a power to a power, since whatever things are comprehended by one power are comprehended by the other; for it is not the case that whatever we understand we also will, simply speaking, but in a certain way those things are in the will insofar as we will ourselves to understand them. But the equality of power to object is not upheld, since bodily things are in the soul in a nobler way than they are in themselves, since the soul is nobler than them, as Augustine says.² However, if such powers are considered in reference to the object that is the soul, the order is preserved, since the soul itself is naturally present to itself; this is why the act of understanding comes from knowledge, and not vice versa. The equality of power to power is also preserved simply speaking, since to the degree that it understands itself, so too does it will and love itself—not as in the others, that it willed itself only to understand, but simply speaking. And the equality of power to object is also preserved there.

And the actual imitation of the Trinity itself is also preserved there, insofar as the soul itself is an image expressly leading to God. Moreover, if they are considered in reference to the object who is God, then an actual imitation is preserved there.

However, the order is preserved most of all because understanding proceeds from memory insofar as the order is in the soul by its essence, and it is held by the soul not through any acquisition. Also, the equality of power to power is there simply speaking, but not that of power to object, since God is higher than the soul. Whence I say that the image is in a certain way considered in reference to all of its objects, but it is there more truly in reference to its very self, and is there most truly in reference to the object that is God—except only that the equality of power to object is absent, which also does not contribute greatly to the image.

Reply Sed Contra: The response to the other side is clear from the things that have been said.

Nonetheless, according to the philosophers, one can understand that the soul always understands itself in another way, in that everything understood is understood only as illuminated by the light of the agent intellect and received in the potential intellect. Whence, just as bodily light is seen in every color, so too the light of the agent intellect is seen in every intelligible object—yet not in the account of an object, but in the account of a means of knowing.

Next, one asks about the designation of the image, namely, in the mind, knowledge, and love.¹ And it seems that this designation does not differ from that stated before, as it was said that this one is assigned with respect to the habits, whereas the former was with respect to the powers.

But because this opinion does follow the Master’s opinion, and is too tortuous, one should explain it otherwise, such that “mind” here is being taken, as above, for the higher part of the soul that is the subject of the aforesaid image, and knowledge is the habit of memory, and love the habit of the will. And this designation is taken according to the essence and its consubstantial habits, whereas the earlier one was according to the powers. This is why in this there is not as great a conformity as in the previous one, nor is the designation so proper, on account of which also it is placed last.

Exposition of the second part of the text

For in the mind itself, even before it becomes a partaker of God, his image is to be found. And even if the mind should become deformed by the loss of partaking in God, yet the divine image remains in it.¹ On the contrary, Lord, in your city you turn their image to nothing (Ps 73 [72]:20).² To this one should say that, as it says in the Gloss on Psalm 4:6 [4:7], you have marked your countenance on us, Lord,³ that the image of God in man is of three sorts.⁴ There is the image of creation, which is reason insofar as it approaches imitation of the divine intellectuality; this is called an “image” through the manner in which, in bodily things, the trunk can be said to be the image [of a tree].⁵ Further, there is the image of likeness, which consists in the distinction of the powers representing the Trinity of persons; and this too is likened to an image in bodily things, insofar as it is distinguished through the limitations of its parts. And lastly, there is the image of re-creation, which consists in the habitual graces and actually imitates God; and this is likened to an image in bodily things in reference to their colors and other things that adorn an image. And when spoken of this way, the image does not remain after sin, though it does in the other two ways.

For by this very fact is the mind an image of God: that it is capable of God and can partake of him.¹ This seems false, for everything that has the capacity for something is either greater than it or equal to it, as Augustine argues² about the powers that have a mutual capacity for each other. Therefore it seems that our mind cannot have the capacity for God.

And if you say that it is called “capable” insofar as God is in the soul, then since he is in every created thing through his essence, presence, and power, it seems that even created things incapable of sensation have the capacity for God.

To this one should say that our mind is said to have the capacity for God as the perfectible has the capacity for its own perfection. For the object of an activity is in some way the perfection of the one performing it. However, our mind has an activity as regards God, through knowledge and love, that irrational creatures do not. And therefore the capacity is possessed by the mind as by what is perfectible, yet not as by what is proportionately perfectible. And therefore God is not comprehended but only reached by the mind, and thus it does not follow that the mind is equal to him.

Also, memory is said to be toward-something¹ not according to being but according to speech.

But they are three by that same reason by which they are referred reciprocally to each other.¹ This seems false, in that memory is not spoken of as relative to the will. One should say that, although it is not spoken of in reference to the will under the name “will,” still it is referred to the will insofar as the will can be remembered. Or one should say that they refer to each other according to a relation of origin, insofar as the one has a natural order to the other, as was said above.²

And I remember concurrently my whole memory and intelligence and will.¹ This appears to be badly said, since “whole” is spoken in relation to its parts, but the power of the soul does not have parts, since it is simple. One should say to this that quantity is of two sorts. One is bulk or dimensive quantity, and a totality of this sort is considered relative to the parts into which it is divided. And there is also a certain quantity of power, the totality of which is considered relative to its objects. And this latter is the totality or wholeness in the powers of the soul. But furthermore, it seems that the one power is not equal in all of them, since every whole is greater than its part. One should say that this is true of a whole of dimensive or numerical quantity, the parts of which are of one account, but not of a whole of a quantity of power. For it can happen that one power has the capacity for just as many objects as several others, each of which has the capacity for all those objects, yet one of them has not the capacity for those objects in as many ways as the others.

Furthermore, everything that communicates itself does so by reason of an act that is in itself, since a power neither acts on itself nor communicates itself. But the divine essence is the first and pure act. Therefore it seems that it communicates itself in the highest way. But it does not communicate itself in the highest way within created things, since this communication is not brought to completion at the same nature. Therefore it seems that it communicates itself through generation in a Son, for this is the greatest communication.

Nonetheless, one must note that, because every perfection is in God, and there is no imperfection in him, whatever is found to belong to perfection in a created thing can be said of God as regards what there is of perfection in it, with every imperfection removed. However, if a name is imposed from what belongs to imperfection, like “stone” or “lion,” then it is said of God merely symbolically or metaphorically. But if it is imposed from what belongs to perfection, then it is said properly, albeit according to a more eminent mode. However, a name is said to be imposed from what is, as it were, the reality’s constitutive difference, and not from the account of its genus. And therefore whenever something according to its genus signifies an imperfection, but according to its difference signifies a perfection, it is found in God according to the account of the difference, and not according to the account of the genus. For example, knowledge is not in God as regards the account of habit or quality, since then it has the account of an accident, but only as regards what completes the account of knowledge, that is, being cognitive of things with certainty.

Likewise, I say that if we take the genus of generation as it is found in lower things, it belongs to imperfection, for change, which is its genus, indicates a going forth from potency to act, and consequently indicates materiality in the one generated, and consequently a division of essence—none of which befit the divine generation. However, if it is considered in reference to its difference, whereby the account of generation is completed, then it indicates a certain perfection. For taken passively “generation” signifies the receiving of essence in a perfect likeness, and if taken actively it signifies the communication of this. And neither of these signifies an imperfection; for communication follows upon the account of act, whence every form as such is communicable, and therefore communication pertains to nobility. And with “generation” taken in this way, it is in God with priority, and every generation in created things descends from it, and imitates it to the degree it can, although it falls short. Whence Ephesians 3:15 says, from whom every fatherhood in heaven and on earth is named.¹ However, if “generation” is taken according to the customary account in the name, according to which we speak of generation in created things, then it does not befit God, except metaphorically, like other bodily names.

And this latter opinion appears to be more true. For, as is said in the Book of Causes,¹ every name falls short of signifying the divine existence because no name signifies simultaneously something perfect and simple, since abstract names do not signify a being subsisting through itself, and concrete ones signify a composite being; nonetheless, setting aside what there is of imperfection, we use both such names in the divine—the abstract on account of his simplicity, and the concrete on account of his perfection. Whence this name “God” signifies through the mode of the perfect and subsisting through itself, like the name “man.” This is also why just as this name “man” in itself indicates not only the essence, but also the supposit, albeit indistinctly (otherwise it would not be predicated of the individuals), so too does this name “God.” And therefore from itself it has the ability to stand for a person, and it does not have that it stands for the essence from the name’s mode of signifying; rather, it does this only by reason of the divine simplicity, wherein the essence is the same thing in reality as the supposit.

But there are some who distinguish “he begot another God.” For the word “another” can be taken substantively or adjectivally, and if adjectivally, then the expression will be false, since it asserts a diversity as regards the word “God.” But if it is taken substantively, then the construction will be an apposition, and the expression will be true, and the meaning will be “he begot another, who is God.” But because it is not found to be the case that the adjective in the masculine gender is used substantively, and especially when a substantive noun is joined to it, this distinction does not appear to be very helpful—unless perhaps the participle “being” is understood here, so that one might say, “another being, God.” But this will be very tortuous. So one should say, with the Master, that both are false.

Nevertheless Prevostin¹ has said that both of these latter propositions are false, and neither are they contradictory, because of diverse suppositions of the relative pronoun “who.” For in affirmatives it refers only to the supposit of the antecedent, and since the antecedent stands for the person of the Son, it would refer to the person of the Son, of which it is not true to say that he is God the Father. But in a negative, a relative refers not only to the supposit but even to the essence, so it would have to be that the predicate “God the Father” is removed not only from the supposit of the Son, but even from his essence—and then it is false.

But even with this distinction made, the Master’s distinction still has a place, and especially in the affirmative. And further, because it does not seem necessary that in negative assertions the relative pronoun refers differently than in affirmatives, except perhaps on account of a negation in which one can confuse a term and make it be held simply speaking—and yet this confusion does not hold in reference to what comes before it, but only in reference to what comes after it. Therefore the Master’s path seems more efficient, and following him, one should grant that both can be true and false, and the solution to the fourth argument is clear from this distinction.

Furthermore, according to Boethius,¹ no proposition is truer than when the same thing is predicated of itself. But whatever is present in the divine is the same as it is in reality, since in God the possessor and the possessed are the same; and so too that “which he is” and that “by which he is,” with the exception that one person is not another. Therefore it seems that the truest statements can be formed about God.

God the Father generated himself as an other.¹ The Master solves this in two ways. For the word “himself” can be in the ablative case, and then it would be simply true, and the meaning would be “generated an other than himself.” Or it can be in the accusative case, and then either it makes reference to the simple relation—and thus it too is true, for it indicates an identity of nature, but it will be improper—or it will make reference to the personal relation of the Father, and thus it is false, since it is referring to the same supposit. Nonetheless it can be said that even if it refers to the same supposit, in a certain way it will be true, but it will be an expression of emphasis, such that the meaning is: “he generated another self, that is, another like himself,” just as a poet says, may the gods make it so that ‘I’ dies not without me.²

Moreover, in all abstract names there is also an order. For some signify an order to act, for example, “power,” “goodness,” “light,” “nature,” and the like, and because acts belong to supposits, therefore with such one finds sayings such as “wisdom generates,” or “the nature generates.” Nonetheless expressions of this sort should not be extended further, but should be understood in a pious way. Now, some names do not signify an order to action, but rather are imposed according to the name’s account, from the act of standing under it, like “substance.” Whence this name “substance” still approaches the account of a supposit, whereas the name “essence” is wholly remote from the account of a supposit, so least of all can one say, “the essence generates.” Nevertheless, if it were so found, it would have to be expounded as “the essence, that is, the Father who is the essence, generates.”

And in this way the Son is said to be of the Father and of the Father’s essence. Yet he is of the Father as of a generator, and of his essence as of the communicated principle of generation. This is also why it approaches a likeness with matter, if one were to remove from matter all there is of imperfection and this alone were to remain of the conditions of matter: that it endures in the thing and through it the thing subsists. And this is especially the case with a thing made by art, which is in the genus of substance on account of its matter and not on account of its form, as the Commentator says.¹

Furthermore, according to Damascene,¹ everything that is from nothing can be turned into nothing. But the Son is not of this sort. Therefore and so on.

Next it is asked whether the essence is the terminus of the generation.¹ And it seems not.

Therefore one must note that, because every notional word signifies the act of a person as distinct, it always must come from a distinct person. And therefore no such word goes forth from the essence, such that the essence might be said to generate or give notionally, or to receive or to be born. However, words that designate the relation of the generator to the essence, or that of the one generated to the essence, do not terminate at the essence, for they are not distinctive on that side. And “to receive” and “to give” are words like this. But words that designate the relation of the one generated to the generator or vice versa are distinct on both sides. And therefore the essence can be joined to them from neither side, since the essence does not generate, nor does the Father generate the essence. And this is clear from the signification of the words, since the one generating, as generating, is distinguished from the one generated and vice versa. But the one giving is indeed distinguished from the one to whom he gives but not from what he gives, since sometimes someone can give his very self. Likewise too, the one receiving is distinguished from the one from whom he receives, but not necessarily from what he receives, for someone can receive his very self, like a liberated slave.

But if it were spoken of relatively to the Father, or posited as a relative term, it would not indicate an essence.¹ This appears false, because the name “God” is asserted as a relative term, and nevertheless, it indicates an essence. One should say to this that, although it indicates the essence on the side of what is being signified, still on the part of what it stands for, it indicates a person. This is why the entire explanation of the diversity in these arguments is that they do not conclude. Likewise, there is a different mode of indicating a supposit for the name “God,” as with the name “essence.”

To reveal himself, he begot that which the begetter himself is.¹ On the contrary: the generation of the Son, as was said above,² is not for the sake of some end—since an end is always of greater dignity than what is for the sake of the end—so it is not for the sake of manifesting the Father. To this one should say that the word “to” designates a consequence, not a final cause. For the manifestation of the Father is a consequence of the generation of the Son.

The Son is called counsel of counsel.¹ On the contrary: according to the Philosopher,² counsel is a certain seeking, but where there is no doubt there is no seeking, so in the divine there is no counsel. One should say to this that “counsel” can be taken passively, in reference to one who asks for or receives counsel—and this cannot be in God, since this brings in doubt. But it is also taken actively, in reference to one who gives counsel, and in this way it is in the divine, and it signifies the abundance of his knowledge about dubious things that can be done, which counsel concerns.

The Son has nothing, except his birth,¹ that is, except what he receives in being born. But he receives something in being born as what is communicated to him through the birth—that is, the essence—and something as a consequence of the birth according to the mode of understanding—that is, the relation of filiation.

And the veneration of the glory of the begotten is in honor of the begetter¹—that is, he who honors the Son, by glorifying him as so much greater than himself, honors also the Father and vice versa: that all may honor the Son, even as they honor the Father (John 5:23).

The birth of God cannot have that nature from which it comes.¹ This can be expounded in two ways: such that by “birth” we understand God himself as born, or better, we can understand it as referring to passive generation. And a passive generation is said to have the nature that is brought forth through the generation, just as every motion and change is terminated through the terminus-to-which, from which it holds its species. Therefore Hilary wishes to say that, since in every univocal generation the principle of generation and what is communicated through the generation are the same (for example, in the generation of fire the principle is the form of fire, as is what is acquired through the generation—albeit they are not the same in number), so too one begotten through the divine generation must receive the divine nature. For the divine generation occurs by virtue of the divine nature. And it must be numerically the same nature since, as has been proved,² the divine nature cannot be divided in number.

We do not let the unity of the form of a servant flow back into the nature of the divine unity,¹ that is, we do not assert that the human nature with the divine become one in nature.

Nor again do we teach that the Father is in the Son bodily,¹ that is, when the Lord says in John 14:11, I am in the Father and the Father in me, one should not understand this such that the Father is in the Son in the way that is implied, that is, manifested, as a body is in another body. Rather, the begotten nature from the one, that is, from the Father, is of the same kind, that is, of the same power and account, just as the humanity in Socrates is of the same kind as that in Plato; that is, the very begotten one possessing such nature we say has possessed in himself the nature of the one begetting him, that is, that of the begetting Father. Or it can be expounded as about the begotten nature, since it is received in the Son through the generation, and the begetting nature, since it is the generation’s principle within the Father.

Or is it an insult to the only-begotten God to have the unbegotten God as Father?¹ He says this against the Arians, who used to say that the Son is less than the Father because he is not unbegotten, whereas the Father is. But this does not follow, for he is the only-begotten of the Father and through that begetting he receives the entire nature of the Father. This is why he adds that he subsists in the only-begotten nature.²

The one begotten does not have any other origin,¹ that is, other than the Father. And therefore he is not referred to another, that is, to any person other than the Father, insofar as he is the Son. For he is referred to the Holy Spirit as spirating him. Or, taking it differently, any other origin might mean anything other than the Father’s essence. Likewise, it is not referred to anything else² can mean to the essence or nature, as one not having the divine nature but another nature. It subsists in the one, in the unity of the divine nature, from the one, that is, from the Father, or from the unity of the Father’s nature.³

And so, in the begetting of the Son, the unchangeable God who begets the unchangeable God follows, if I may say so, his own nature.¹ He wishes to show how the Son is in the Father, and vice versa, in the following way. The Father, through generation, gives his own nature to the Son. Therefore, since the Father is unchangeable, he does not lose his nature, but follows it, for where his nature is, there he is. Whence, since his nature is in the Son, he is in the Son. Likewise, vice versa, the Son receives the nature that the Father has, and since the Father himself is unchangeable, he does not give up his nature; whence, since numerically the same nature given to the Son remains in the Father, the Son remains in the Father, and he is called “unchangeable” (indemutabilis) from “in” (un-) and “demutor, demutaris” (“I am changed, you are changed”).

Into the kingdom of the Son of his charity (Col 1:13).¹ This is expounded in two ways. For “charity” can be taken essentially, and then the meaning of, of the Son of his charity, will be “of the Son of his substance”; how one should understand this the Master will show below.² It can also be taken notionally, and then it will be an expression of emphasis, just as it is customary in Scripture that someone be called the “son of” something that most befits him; for example, Isaiah 5:1, in the horn, the son of oil,³ according to its literal sense, indicates a container that one fills with oil. Also in 1 Samuel 26:16, you are a son of death,⁴ that is, you are most worthy of death. And in the same way the only-begotten of God is called the “Son of charity” because the charity of the Father rests most of all in him.

From the foregoing words, it appears to be suggested that the divine substance begot the Son.¹ Here from the aforesaid authorities he draws four propositions that seem to be contrary to his own thought. One of which is that the nature is coeternal of God, wherein it seems the begotten nature is spoken of, and he explains this at but so that I may speak without prejudice and temerity, these words may be taken in this sense.² The second is that the Father begot that which he himself is, which he explains at in the same sense is also to be taken the phrase: ‘the Father generated that which he himself is.’³ The third is that the substance of God begot the Son, which he explains at also, ‘the substance of God generated the Son.’⁴ The fourth is that the Son is born of the substance of the Father, which he explains at similarly, ‘the Son is born from the Father’s substance.’⁵ And he adds a fifth, that the Son is of the substance of the Father, which he explains at expound in the same way that phrase: ‘the Son is the substance of the Father.’⁶

However, what is necessary absolutely is what is necessary through what is in its essence, whether this is its own essence as in simple things or, as in composites, the principle is the matter, as when we say it is necessary that a man die, or the form, as when we say it is necessary that a man be rational. Now, the absolutely necessary is of two sorts. For one is what has its necessity and existence from another, as in all things that have a cause; the other is that whose necessity does not depend on another, but itself is the cause of the necessity in all necessary things, such as God.

Therefore one should say that the generation in the divine is not a conditioned necessity, whether conditioned on an end or on an agent; it is not due to the agent because God himself is the first principle; nor is it due to the end because he is also the ultimate end. Rather, it is necessary by an absolute necessity, as is the necessity of the first cause, which does not depend on another, but rather is itself the cause of necessity in all other things.

If it is related to anything as to its object, then everything willed by God can be said to be by his will. And in this way it can be said that the Father is God by his own will, for he wills to be God. And likewise it can be granted that the Father begot the Son by will.

However, if the will is related to anything as a principle, this can be in two ways: either that to which it is related as “principle” indicates the account of being a principle, or it indicates that it itself is derived from a principle. If it does this in the first way, then the will is related to the procession of the Holy Spirit, who proceeds as love, in which love the will brings forth all things derived from the principle, that is, created things. And in this way so too does the intellect in God stand to the generation of the Son, who proceeds as a word and art. But if it does so in the second way, then what is derived from the principle of the will proceeds from the will according to the condition of the will. Now, the will in and of itself is free, so things derived from the principle of the will are only things that can either be or not be. And it is certain that the divine will is related to the creation of things in this way, but not to the generation of the Son.

And this is why some distinguish the will into three. That is, there is the approaching will, which newly approaches a work or action: and such is not present in God according to any of the three stated modes of the will, since his every action is from an eternal will. Further, there is the concomitant will, which is spoken of in relation to the object alone: and this will is present in God in reference to the generation of the Son. And further, there is the antecedent will, and this indicates the relation of the principle to what is derived from it: and this is in God as regards created things.

Reply Sed Contra: The other arguments are based on an antecedent will, that is, the will in the relation of a principle to what is derived from it.

His will cannot precede his wisdom.¹ He says this because wisdom is appropriated to the Son. On the contrary: the will is the mover of the other powers, for we understand because we will; so the will seems to precede the knowledge of wisdom. To this one should say that some knowledge must precede the will. For the act of the will is of two sorts. The first is imperfect—that is, desiring—and this act precedes perfect knowledge of things that are acquired in knowledge. For through the desire to know something, one is moved to contemplate something about which one acquires knowledge by contemplation; but nevertheless an indeterminate knowledge precedes this act of the will, whereby the thing is known universally, and through that imperfect knowledge the appetite stretches forth to its perfection. For were it entirely unknown, it would not be sought. There is also another act of the will, a perfect one, whereby the will rests and is pleased in the thing that is already possessed. And this will of knowing follows the perfect knowledge.

Whether God had generated the Son willingly or unwillingly.¹ It seems that it is necessary to grant one of these, since the division occurs by affirmation and negation. To this one should say that unwilling and willing are not opposed as contradictories, whereas willing and not willing are. For “I am unwilling” and “I do not will” are different, for when one says, “I do not will it,” the act is being denied, and therefore it is opposed as a negation is opposed to an affirmation; but in the words “I am unwilling,” there both remains an affirmed act of the will in its entire grammatical declination and the negation is also carried to the thing willed.² Whence the meaning of “I am unwilling that something be so” is “I am willing that that not be so.” Likewise one should grant neither alternative in the proposition. Rather, one should grant that he did not beget the Son willingly if “willing” indicates an approaching or antecedent will; but if it indicates a concomitant will, one should grant that he begot him “willingly.”

If it is a gerund of an impersonal verb, then the power of generating is the power by which one is generated by someone; and in this way the power of generating is in the Son, that is, that by which he is generated by the Father.

If it is a gerund of a personal active verb, then the “power of generating” is called a power such that one might generate; and in this way it is not in the Son.

If it is a gerund of a personal passive verb, then the “power of generating” is called a power such that he might be generated; and in this way it is in the Son, since the same power that is in the Father such that he might generate is in the Son such that he might be generated.

And this distinction is founded on what has been said,¹ that the power of generating is the divine essence, due to which, insofar as it is the paternity in the Father, there is an active generation; and insofar as it is the filiation in the Son, there will also be a passive generation.

Reply Sed Contra 3: From the foregoing the solution to this one is also clear.

Furthermore, it is asked whether the Father can generate another son. And it seems that he could. For his power is in no way diminished by generation. Therefore for the same reason for which he can generate one Son, he can also generate several.

And the reason for this is that that son would in no way be distinct from the other. For, because divine persons are not distinguished according to the division of matter since they are not material, no distinction remains there other than one through relations of origin. Now, it is impossible that one relation of origin, like filiation, be multiplied in number, since this would be a material multiplication. Whence in God there can only be one filiation, and by one filiation only one son is constituted, so in the divine there cannot be several sons, nor several fathers. And this pertains to the Son’s perfection, since in the divine there is nothing pertaining to filiation outside his very self, whereby he is the perfect Son.

The solution to the last question asked is also clear from what has been said. For it is impossible that in the divine there be several sons. This is not due to a defect in the Father’s power, but due to the distinction of supposits of the divine nature, which would be taken away, as was said in body of the article.

For the divine generation would be without measure, if the Son who had been generated had generated a grandson to the Father.¹ For it seems not unfitting if the begotten one were always to beget another; indeed, it seems like the greatest good, since every generation whatsoever would be an infinite good. And to this it can be said that there are three ways it is unfitting: first, because if this were to go to infinity, since everything infinite is imperfect, the divine generation would never be perfect, and this argument is taken from the text; second, because there could be no distinction between the many begotten ones, as was said in the preceding article; and third, because although communication belongs to the nobility and simplicity of a nature, still an infinite communication occurs only from a defect of a nature. For because a nature cannot be preserved in eternal existence in a single individual, it intends through an infinite succession of individuals to preserve its perpetuity, at least insofar as they are the same in species. And this in no way befits God.

‘For it is not that he could not do so, but that it was not fitting that he should do so,’ may be understood as follows: that is, it was not because of his powerlessness that the Son did not generate, but because it was not fitting for him to do so.¹ This exposition seems rather tortured, and cannot be taken from Augustine’s words. But one should say to this that the Master takes this exposition from the fact that the word “not” can be taken merely negatively, and that is how the objection went. Or it can be taken as a privative, so that “he could not” is, as it were, an indefinite term; and thereby when he says, for it is not that he could not, lack of power is being denied.

But again it seems that it is due to the Son’s lack of power that he would not generate. For Augustine argues this way: if the Father was not able to generate a coeternal and coequal Son, he was lacking in power. Therefore it seems that, similarly, if the Son was not so able, he would be lacking in power.

To this, one should say that to generate a son is among things that pertain to the account of a father, and so nothing could be lacking of the perfection of generation, lest it redound to a lack of power in the Father. But to generate does not pertain to the account of a son—indeed this is more the opposite of filiation—and therefore the Son is not thereby shown to be lacking in power, just as a man is not said to be lacking in power unless he cannot do things that pertain to him.

The second reason is taken from the words of Damascene,¹ who says that “he who is” signifies existence without determination, and not what he is. And in the state of the earthly path we know of him only this: that he is, and not what he is, except through negation, and we can name things only insofar as we know them. Therefore he is properly named, “he who is” by us.

The third reason is taken from the words of Dionysius,¹ who says that to exist, among all the other participations of divine goodness, such as to live, to understand, and such, is the first and, as it were, the principle of the others, as possessing in advance within itself all the aforesaid, united according to a certain mode. And in this way too God is the divine principle, and all things are one in him.

The fourth reason is taken from the words of Avicenna,¹ in the following way. Since in everything that exists one can consider its “whatness,”² through which it subsists in a determinate nature, and its existence, through which one says that it exists in act, therefore the name “real thing” is imposed on a thing from its “whatness,” according to Avicenna,³ but the name “that which is,” or “a being,” is imposed from its very act of existing. Now, since this is why in every created reality its essence differs from its existence, that reality is properly denominated from its “whatness,” and not from its act of existing, like a man from his humanity. But in God his very existence is his “whatness,” so the name taken from existence properly names him, and is his proper name, just as the proper name of man is taken from his “whatness.”

For we find three modes of agent cause.

First, there is the cause acting equivocally, and this is when the effect does not agree with the cause either in name or in account; for example, the sun causes heat but is not hot.

Second, there is a cause acting univocally, when the effect agrees in both name and account with the cause; for example, a man generates a man, and something hot makes heat. In neither of these modes does God act—neither univocally, because nothing univocally agrees with him, nor equivocally, since with God the effect and the cause in some way agree in name and account, although according to the prior and the posterior. For example, God by his own wisdom makes us wise, yet such that our wisdom always falls short of the account of his wisdom, just as an accident falls short of the account of being insofar as it is in substance.

Whence there is a third mode of cause, acting analogically. So it is clear that the divine existence produces the existence of what is created in its imperfect likeness, and therefore the divine existence is said to be the “existence of all realities,” from which as from an agent and an exemplar every created existence emanates.

However, if we compare them to each other, this can be done in two ways: either in reference to the supposit, and in this way they are convertible with each other, and are the same in supposit, nor do they ever desert each other; or in reference to their intentions, and in this way simply and absolutely speaking being is prior to the others. The reason for this is that being is included in their understanding, but not vice versa. For the first thing that falls within the imagination of the intellect is being, without which the intellect cannot apprehend anything. For example, the first things that fall within the credence of the intellect are the axioms, and especially this one: that contradictories cannot be true simultaneously. This is why all the others in some way are included in being, in a united and distinct way, as in a principle. Due to this too there is a certain appropriateness that this divine name be the most proper one.

The other names we have spoken of, that is, the “good,” the “true,” and the “one,” add something over and above being—not of course any nature, but an account. “One” adds the account of non-division, and this is why it is the closest to “being,” since it adds only a negation. But “true” and “good” add a certain relation: “good” adds a relation to the end, “true” a relation to the exemplar form, for anything is called “true” from the fact that it imitates the divine exemplar. Or “true” adds a relation to a cognitive power, for we call something “true gold” from the fact that it has the form of gold that it shows, and thereby a true judgment is being made of it.

However, if they are considered according to the account of causality, then the good is prior. For the good has the account of the final cause, whereas existence has the account of only the exemplar and efficient cause in God. However, the end is the first cause in the account of causality.

I say, therefore, that boundless life is placed in the definition to exclude the first boundaries, which are the boundaries of the beginning and the end of the whole duration. And thereby the eternal is divided from things that are generated and corrupted. However, simultaneously whole is added to exclude the second boundaries, that of the parts of duration; for through this is excluded a succession of parts of duration, relative to which each finite part exists and traverses. And through this the eternal is divided from motion and time, even if they always were and will be, as some have asserted. Perfect is added to exclude the third sort of boundaries, which are on the side of the receiver. For that wherein the existence is not absolute, but bounded by its receiver, does not have perfect existence; only what is its own existence does. And through this, eternal existence is divided from the received existence of unchangeable creatures, which have a participated existence, like spiritual creatures.

I say, therefore, that boundlessness is communicated to certain things insofar as it excludes boundary of duration on the side of what comes after; and in this way the fire of hell is called eternal, because it will never end. However, whether something can be eternal that has no beginning of duration will be asked about in the beginning of Book II.¹ Moreover, boundlessness is communicated to some created things insofar as it excludes the bounds that arise from a succession of parts; and such are spiritual creatures, the existence of which is simultaneously whole. But the boundlessness that excludes every imperfection is not communicated to any created thing, since no created things can be perfect simply speaking. Rather, a certain perfection is communicated to a created thing, that is, one that is natural for a created thing to attain, such that it is perfect according to its own nature. And in this way angels and beatified souls are perfect, because they have that of which their nature is capable. This is why the blessed angels are considered to exist more by their participation of eternity than by merely their natural powers.

From this one can gather the difference between eternity, aeviternity, and time. For what has no power to receive its whole act simultaneously is measured by time; for such things have an existence bounded both as regards the mode of participating in it, since their existence is received in some potency, and it is not absolute as regards the parts of the duration, because it has before and after. Now, what has a potency that is different from its act, but which receives that whole act simultaneously, is measured by aeviternity; for this has only one mode of boundary, that is, because its existence is received in something other than itself, as has been said.¹ However, what has no potency different from existence is measured by eternity; for an existence of this sort is unbounded in every way. Whence it is also clear that aeviternity is nothing but a certain participated eternity.

Exposition of the first part of the text

Now we must turn to the truth, or property, and the unchangeability and simplicity of the divine nature, or substance, or essence.¹ It is asked, since there are many essential attributes, why does he make mention only of these three? And one should say that the Master intends to touch only on those that pertain to the perfection of the divine existence insofar as it is perfect existence. Now, the perfection of existence can be attended to in three ways: either insofar as privation or non-existence is excluded, and such perfection is touched on by “truth” or “property,” which are being taken as the same thing, as was said in the previous article; or insofar as potentiality is excluded, and “unchangeability” is placed here for this; or as regards the integrity of the existence itself, and “simplicity” is placed here for this. For whatever is in a simple thing is its very existence.

Nature, or substance, or essence.¹ Note that these three are being taken for the same thing. For “nature” is not being taken here insofar as it names the principle of any act, but insofar as it indicates the form following on the whole, just as humanity is the nature of a man. Likewise, “substance” is not being taken here for the individual subsisting in the genus of substance, but insofar as it names the existence of the first predicate, insofar as it is divided against accident. And this is the same as an essence not existing in something as in a subject.

For just as wisdom is so called from being wise, . . . so essence is so called from being.¹ It seems that the contrary should be said, that being wise comes from wisdom. To this one should say that he is not speaking according to the order of the reality, but according to the order of our knowledge, which comes to habits from acts.

And who is more than he who said to his servant Moses: I am who am?¹ This seems to be said in an unfitting way, since being does not admit of more and less. To this one should say that something can be said more or less so in two ways. In one way, this is in reference to the participated nature itself, which nature in virtue of itself is intensified or diminished, according to a thing’s approach toward or withdrawal from its terminus. And this happens only in accidents. Or there can be more or less so as regards the mode of participating, and in this way even in essential things there is said to be more or less so, according to diverse modes of participating. For example, an angel is said to be more intellectual than is a man.

God alone, on the other hand, is, who does not know ‘used to be’ or ‘will be.’¹ This refers to experiential knowledge, such that he would experience successive times in his existence.

In relation to whose essence, our being is as if it is not.¹ This seems false, because our existence is nothing except by its relation to God himself. For according to Gregory, all things would fall into nothing if not for the hand of the Omnipotent holding them up.² To this one should say that our existence can be related to God in two ways: either as to the principle from which it exists, and in this way our existence exists only through the fact that it is related to God; or according to a relation of proportion or equivalence, and in this way our existence, when related to the divine, is as though nothing, since it is infinitely distant from it.

To be is not an accident in God.¹ It seems that it is not an accident even to any created thing, since nothing is more essential to a thing than its own existence. To this one should say that “accident” is here being said of what is not found within the idea of a thing, as rational is said to be accidental to animal. And thus, existence is accidental to every created “whatness”; for humanity can be understood and yet one can remain in doubt about whether man has existence.

But the divine existence is a subsisting truth, and a permanent cause, and an inherent and natural property of his nature.¹ Hilary is excluding three sorts of imperfection from the divine existence. For the existence of a created thing is not something subsisting through itself—indeed, it is the act of what subsists—but in God his existence is the subsisting God himself. And this is why he says that he is “a subsisting truth.”

Further, a created thing’s existence is acquired from another and has potentiality and changeability in and of itself, but the divine existence is the cause of all existence, enduring unchangeably. And this is why he says it is “a permanent cause.” And further, a created thing’s existence differs from what it is, which is why a man is not placed in the human genus through his existence, but through his “whatness.” But the divine existence is its own “whatness,” and therefore God is placed in the divine kind through his existence. And this is why he says that it is “a property” of his natural kind.

However, in two ways it falls short of the account of motion: first, because what is in this thing and in that is not numerically the same thing, but only a likeness of the same thing; and second, because an order of time is not there insofar as it goes forth into diverse created things. Rather, only an order of nature is present, since nobler creatures are naturally in participation of the divine goodness in a prior way, even if not in time. And this is also how one understands Dionysius when he says, but also with the moving father of lights, near the beginning of the Heavenly Hierarchy,¹ and when he frequently says that the divine goodness or wisdom goes forth into created things.

However, there are two sorts of possibility to consider: one according to what the created thing has, the other according to what it is naturally apt to have. The first follows the created thing insofar as it has existence from another; for everything that has its existence from another is not a necessary being through itself, as Avicenna proves.¹ This is why in and of itself it is possible, and such possibility indicates its dependency on that from which it exists. Moreover, this possibility is of two sorts. A certain possibility is according to the dependence of its entire existence on that from which the reality exists as regards its entire existence, and that is God. And a certain changeability follows this dependence or possibility, a changeability that can be turned to nothing, according to Damascene.² Yet this is not properly changeability, nor is a created thing changeable in this respect, properly speaking; and this is why Augustine makes no mention of this in the text.

There are two reasons for this. For in everything changeable one can find something that is spread under what is removed by a change, and in reference to this, it is said to be able to change. But if we take the entire existence of a creature, which depends on God, we will not find any substrate in reference to which one can say it is able to change. The other reason is that nothing is called “possible” the contrary of which is necessary, or which cannot exist unless one posits something impossible. However, the existence of a creature cannot wholly fail unless the inflowing of the divine goodness in created things were to be withdrawn; and this is impossible, because of the unchangeability of the divine will, and it is a necessary contrary. And therefore due to this, a created thing cannot be said to be simply corruptible or changeable, but only under a condition, if it be left to itself. And this is what Gregory says, that all things would fall into nothingness if the hand of the Omnipotent were not to hold them up.¹

There is also a certain dependence or possibility of a thing in reference to its part, that is, its form, presupposing matter or what stands in the place of matter. And the change of variability follows this possibility from the fact that what it has from another it can lose, in and of itself—unless perhaps it be impeded by the unchangeableness of the cause, as was said in the previous article. And in this way the saints in glory are unchangeable in the existence of glory, on account of the unchangeableness of the divine will.

The second possibility follows a created thing insofar as it is not perfect simply speaking. For according to this it is always possible as regards reception. Whence in this respect also every created thing is said to be changeable, taking “change” in a broad sense, insofar as every receiving is said to be a certain undergoing and moving; as the Philosopher says in On the Soul 3: understanding is a certain undergoing.¹

Division of the second part of the text

The same substance alone is properly and truly simple.¹ This is the third part of the distinction, wherein the Master considers the divine simplicity. And it is divided into two parts: in the first, he proposes what he intends; in the second, he shows what he proposed, at in order to understand how that substance is simple, as Augustine teaches you.² And this latter is divided into two: in the first, he manifests the multiplicity of what is created; in the second, the divine simplicity, at but God, although he is called in many ways, yet is truly and most highly simple.³

The first is divided into two: in the first of these he excludes simplicity from the bodily creature; in the second, he excludes it from the spiritual creature, at as for the spiritual creature, such as the soul, it is simple in comparison to the body; but if it is not compared to the body, then it is manifold and not simple.¹

But God, although he is called in many ways, yet is truly and most highly simple.¹ Here he shows the divine simplicity, and it is divided into two parts. In the first, he shows its simplicity, and in the second, he excludes every composition from him, at Augustine shows that in the nature of the Godhead there is no diversity of accidents.²

The first is divided in two: in the first, he shows the truth; in the second, he excludes a doubt, at here it is to be diligently noted why.¹

Augustine shows that in the nature of the Godhead there is no diversity of accidents and no changeableness whatever, but a perfect simplicity.¹ Here he excludes from God every composition and multiplicity. And he does two things as regards this: first, he shows specifically that in God there is no composition of accident and subject; second, he shows that in him there is no composition universally, at the simplicity and purity of this essence is such that there is nothing in it which is not itself.²

As regards the first, he does two things: first, he excludes from God the predication of accidents; second, he concludes that not even substance is predicated of him properly, at hence, God is not properly called a substance.¹

To understand this part, there are two questions:

the first, about the divine simplicity;¹

and the second, about the simplicity of a created thing.¹

Furthermore, the first principle of existing has existence in the noblest way, since something is always nobler in the cause than in the effect. But the noblest way of having existence is that whereby something is its own existence. Therefore God is his own existence. But no composite whole is its own existence, since its existence follows the components, which are not existence itself. Therefore God is not composed. And this should simply be conceded.

Either it belongs to its account that nothing is added to it—and in this way this is said of God, for there must be perfect existence in himself, from which he does not receive any addition. Nor can this be the universal being, since everything universal is preserved in what is proper, where an addition is made to it.

Or a thing “to be without addition” is such that it does not belong to its account that addition is made to it, but neither does being without addition belong to its account. For in the idea of being, the condition “without addition” is not included; otherwise addition could never be made to it, since it would be against its account. And therefore it is universal, because in its account it does not indicate any addition, but addition can be made to it, so that it might be determined to what is proper.

For example, even the universal “animal” is said to be without reason, since having reason does not belong to the idea of it, but neither does not having reason; on the other hand, a donkey is said to be without reason because within the idea of it is included the negation of reason, and thereby it is determined according to its proper difference. In this way, so too is the divine existence determined in itself and divided from all other things, through the fact that no addition can be made to him. Whence it is clear that negations said of God do not designate any composition in him.

The reason for this is assigned in four ways. The first is presented in the text,¹ taken from the name. For the name “substance” is derived from standing-under, whereas God stands under nothing. The second is taken from the account of what is in a genus, for everything of this sort adds something over and above the genus, so what is in the highest way simple cannot be in a genus. The third is the more subtle argument of Avicenna.² For everything that is in a genus has what it is different from its existence, like in a man; for actual existence is not owed to humanity from the fact that it is humanity, since humanity can be thought about and yet one can still not know whether any man exists.

The reason for this is that what is common and predicated of things in a genus predicates a “whatness,” since genus and species are predicated as what something is. However, existence is owed to that “whatness” only through its being received in this or that. And therefore the “whatness” of the genus or species is not communicated as one existence for all, but only as one common account. Whence it is certain that its existence is not its “whatness.” However, in God his existence is his “whatness”—otherwise it would be accidental to his “whatness,” and then it would be acquired from something, and he would not have existence through his own essence. Therefore God cannot be in any genus.

The fourth reason is derived from the perfection of the divine existence, which gathers together all the nobilities of all genera. Whence it is determined to no genus, as was objected.

Starting from there, the name “measure” has been extended to all genera, such that what is first in every genus and simplest and most perfect is called the “measure” of all things that are in that genus. For each thing is known to have more or less of the truth of the genus insofar as it approaches or recedes from it, like white in the genus of colors. So too in the genus of substance, what has the most perfect and simplest existence is said to be the measure of all substances, as is God. Whence it is not necessary that he be in the genus of substance as contained by it, but only as its principle, having within himself every perfection of the genus. This is like how the unit is in the genus of numbers, but nevertheless in a different way; for only numbers are measured by the unit, whereas God is the measure not only of substantial perfections, but of all those that are in all the genera, as of wisdom, of power, and the like. And therefore the unit is contained in one determinate genus as its principle, but God is not.

Moreover, if we consider the proper account of every genus, all of the other genera, with the exception of “toward-something,” bring in an imperfection. For quantity has its proper account in relation to a subject, for quantity is the measure of a substance; and quality is the disposition of substance; and so on in all the others. Whence they are removed from divine predication according to the account of the genus for the same reason that they are removed by the account of accident.

But if we consider their species, then some of them, according to differences that complete them, bring in something of perfection, for example, knowledge, power, and such. And therefore these are predicated of God according to the proper account of their species, and not according to the account of their genus.

However, “toward-something,” or relation, does not bring in any dependence on its subject, even according to the account of its genus. Indeed, it is referred to something outside it. And therefore even according to the account of the genus it is found in the divine. And on account of this, only these two modes of predicating remain in the divine: according to substance and according to relation. For a mode of predicating is owed not to the species contained in the genus, but to the genus itself.

Therefore I say a created thing is of two sorts. For some have a complete existence in themselves, such as a man and the like, and such a creature falls short of the divine simplicity in such a way that it falls into composition. For because in God alone is his existence what he is, it is necessary that in everything created, whether bodily or spiritual, one finds its “whatness” or nature and its existence, which is acquired for it by God, whose essence is his existence. And thereby it is composed from existence, by which it exists, and that which it is. There is also a certain created thing that does not have existence in itself, but only in another, such as first matter, such as every form, such as the universal, for it is not the being of anything except of a particular subsisting in the nature. And such a created thing does not fall short of simplicity in such a way that it is composite. For if one says it is composed from its very nature and its relations by which it is referred to God or to something with which it is composed, one again can ask whether those relations are realities or not, and if they are realities, then they themselves are not related by other relations, but by their very selves, for what is a relation through itself is not referred through another relation. Whence one will have to come to something that is not composed, but yet falls short of the simplicity of the first thing. And such falling short will hang on two things: either because it is potentially or incidentally divisible, as is the case with first matter, form, and the universal, or because it can be composed with another—which the divine simplicity does not allow for.

But this seems not to be true, since no form becomes intelligible except through its being separated from matter and from the trappings of matter. Now, this is not so insofar as bodily matter is perfected by corporeity, since the very form of corporeity is intelligible through separation from matter. Whence those substances that are intelligible by nature do not seem to be material; otherwise the species of things in themselves would not exist according to intelligible being. Whence Avicenna says¹ that something is said to be intellectual because it is unstained by matter. And on account of this, first matter, insofar as it is considered naked of every form, has no diversity, nor does it become diverse through any accidents before the arrival of substantial form, since accidental existence does not come before substantial. Now, to one perfectible thing is owed one perfection. Therefore the first substantial form must perfect the whole matter. But the first form that is received in matter is corporeity, from which it is never stripped, as the Commentator says.² Therefore the form of corporeity is in the whole matter, and thus matter will be only in bodies.

For if you say that the “whatness” of a substance would be the first form received in matter, this still leads back to the same conclusion. For matter does not have division from the “whatness” of substance, but rather from corporeity, upon which follow the actual dimensions of quantity; and after this, through the division of the matter, insofar as it is disposed with diverse positions, diverse forms are acquired within it. For the order of nobility in bodies appears to be according to their order of position, just as fire is higher than air. And therefore it does not seem that the soul has matter, unless “matter” be taken equivocally.

Others say that the soul is composed from that “by which it exists” and that “which exists”—which the latter is different from matter, since “that which exists” indicates the very supposit possessing existence, but matter does not have existence. Rather, the composite of matter and form does. Whence matter is not “that which exists”; the composite is. Whence in all those things wherein is composition of matter and form, there is also a composition of that “by which it exists” and that “which exists.”

However, in things composed of matter and form, “that by which it exists” can be spoken of in three ways. For one can call “that by which it exists” the very form of the part, what gives existence to matter. One can also call “that by which it exists” the very act of existing, that is, existence, just as “that by which one runs” is the act of running. And one can call “that by which it exists” the very nature that results by the joining of form and matter, such as humanity, especially according to those like Avicenna¹ who assert that the form that is the whole, which is called the “whatness,” is not the form of the part.

Now, since it does not belong to the account of “whatness,” or essence, to be composed or a composite, consequently one will be able to find and understand a certain simple “whatness,” one not consequent upon the composition of form and matter. Now, if we find some “whatness” that is not composed of matter and form, that “whatness” either is its own existence or not. If that “whatness” is its existence, then it will be the essence of God himself, who is his own existence, and it will be altogether simple. But if it is not existence itself, it must have its existence acquired from another, just like every created “whatness.”

And because this latter proposed “whatness” does not subsist in matter, existence would not be acquired for it in another, as in composite “whatnesses.” Rather, existence would be acquired for it within itself. And in this way the “whatness” itself will be that which exists, and its existence itself will be that by which it exists. And since everything that does not have something from itself is possible relative to that thing, a “whatness” of this sort, because it has existence from another, will be possible relative to that existence, and relative to that from which it has existence, in which latter there falls no potency. And thus, in such a “whatness” one will find potency and act, insofar as the “whatness” itself is possible, and its existence is its act.

And in this way I understand the composition of potency and act in angels, both of that “by which it exists” and that “which exists”—and in the soul in a similar way. Whence an angel or the soul can be called a “whatness,” or nature, or simple form, insofar as their “whatness” is not composed of diverse things; but nevertheless, a composition of these two accrues there, that is, the composition of “whatness” and existence.

However, some things have the existence of nature but follow from the principles of the species, as are the properties consequent on the species. And such a simple form can be the subject of such accidents. Nevertheless, such a form is not its own existence, by reason of the possibility that is in its “whatness,” as has been said in the body. And such accidents are powers of the soul. For in this way do a point and a unit have their own properties.

Reply Sed Contra 6: According to the aforesaid, in the soul there is not something by which it itself is individuated; those who have denied that it is a this-something, and that it does not have an absolute existence through itself, have understood this. And I say that it is individuated only due to the body. This is why the error of those asserting that souls were created first and later embodied is impossible. For they do not become many except insofar as they are infused to many bodies.

But although the individuation of souls depends on the body as regards its beginning, nonetheless this is not the case as regards their end, such that when their bodies cease to be, the individuation of the souls would cease as well. The reason for this is that, because every perfection is infused into matter according to its capacity, the nature of the soul is not so infused into diverse bodies according to the same nobility and purity. Whence in every body the existence will have a boundary according to the body’s measure. Now, the soul’s bounded existence, even though it is acquired in the body, yet is not from the body, nor is it dependent on the body. This is why, when the bodies are set aside, there will still remain for each soul its existence bounded by affections and dispositions that it attained insofar as it was the perfection of such a body. And this is Avicenna’s solution,¹ and it can be manifested by a sensible example. For if something one that does not retain shape, like water, is distinguished by different vessels, when the vessels are set aside, the shapes will not properly speaking remain distinct; rather, only one water will remain. So it is for material forms, which do not retain existence through themselves. However, if there is something that retains shape, but which is distinguished according to diverse shapes through diverse instruments, then even with the latter set aside, the distinction of shapes will remain, as is clear in wax. And this is how it is with the soul, which retains its existence after the destruction of the body, such that even the very individuated and distinct existence remains in it.

And therefore we should say, with Augustine,¹ that the soul considered according to its essence is a whole in every part of the body.² Yet this is not so if “whole” is taken according to a wholeness of powers, for in this way the whole is merely in the whole animal. The reason for this is that place belongs to no simple substance except according to the relation it has to a body. Now, the soul is related to the body as its form, from which the whole body and every part of it has existence, as from a substantial form.

But nonetheless, not all the parts of the body participate in its powers. Indeed, there are some powers by which it is not possible for something bodily to be perfected, such as intellectual powers. Moreover, there are other powers that can be perfections of bodies, but the soul does not infuse all these powers into every part of the body, since not every part of the body is of the same balance and blend of elements, and something is received in something only according to the proportion of the recipient. Therefore the ear and the eye do not receive the same perfection from the soul, although every part still receives existence from it.

Whence, if the soul is considered insofar as it is a form and essence, it is a whole in every part of the body. But if it is considered insofar as it is a mover, according to its powers, then it is a whole in the whole, and is in the diverse parts according to the diverse powers.

Exposition of the second part of the text

Desire is one thing, fear another, joy another, sadness another.¹ This seems not to designate a composition of the soul, since these things, according to the Philosopher,² are passions of the composite. And to this one should say that love, fear, and all such are spoken of in two ways: either according to the bodily passion, and in this sense they are passions of the composite, nor do they remain in the separated soul; or insofar as they consist in an apprehension and intellectual affection, and in this sense they befall the soul itself according to itself, and are in it even after separation from the body. Whence the Philosopher also asserts³ that there is delight even in the divine nature.

God . . . is a Creator without need.¹ He says this because all agents other than he act for the sake of an end other than themselves, and therefore they stand in need by the acquisition of their end. God himself, however, does all things for the sake of his very self, as is said in Proverbs 16:4: the Lord has made the universe for the sake of his very self;² and therefore he acts without need.

Containing all things without habit.¹ He says this because a habit is something adjacent to a body, in which in a way the body itself is, as it is in its clothing. But “containment” is said of bodily things in a different way than of spiritual things, since with bodily things, what is in a thing is contained by that in which it is, like water in a vessel, whereas with spiritual things, what is in a thing contains what it is in, like the soul contains the body. Because of that, God, who is in things as containing them, is not said to be in them as one who has a habit is in the habit, such that he would be surrounded by it; for he is within all things but not surrounded by them. And therefore, although he is in all things as containing all things, nonetheless all things do not stand to him in the mode of a habit.

God, who is life, is not composed of many parts.¹ To understand this text one must note that when something is substantially composed from parts, it is the perfection of the composite itself, not of a certain one of its parts, just as form does not have existence, nor does matter, but the whole composite does. Now, in God perfection is found both with respect to being and with respect to well-being.

As regards being, this is because it is life; this is why, if the divine life belonged to something as a composite, it would be necessary that the things from which it is composed would not be alive. And because life does not have anything mixed with it that is not life, just as being does not either, as Boethius says,¹ therefore it cannot be that God, who not only lives through his life, but himself is life, be from things composed with each other to constitute some third thing.

And as regards well-being, the divine perfection is considered in three respects. The first regards power, and thereby God himself is said to be power, and not merely to be in possession of power; whence it cannot be that he is composed of anything, since that power would not be in the components, and thus he would be composed from weak elements—that is, things lacking the power that is in the whole. Now, power does not have anything mixed with it, any more than being does, but one who has power can have an admixture of weakness. The second regards beauty, and this is how God is said to be light. Now, if such light would follow from a certain composition, the components would not themselves be luminous, just as we see that due to its contraction a transparent body can become luminous, like a crystal, though if its parts were expanded, they would lose the prior luminosity. However, nothing can be dark in God, who is light, just as neither can non-being be in being. The third regards the subtlety of his nature, for he is said to be spirit essentially. Whence his formality or “whatness” is not derived from disparate things, that is from things standing in unlike ways as regards formality, like humanity from soul and body, through which a man formally exists.

The same life permeating the whole,¹ for there is nothing in him but life.

However, this seems like an adaptation of speech more than an expression of proper speech. Whence one should speak otherwise, and say that this happens because the neuter gender is used substantively, and this is why it indicates a diversity simply speaking and absolutely, which is a diversity of essence. On the other hand, the masculine and feminine genders are taken adjectivally, and this is why they assert a diversity as regards personal terms that are placed in the speech, when one says, “the Son is other than the Father.” This will be explained in the responses to the arguments.

Therefore one should say that all essential terms signifying substance through the mode of a substance, like substantives, are not predicated in the plural of the three persons, in that the form being signified, that is, the divine essence itself, is not being divided. But terms signifying substance adjectivally, through the mode of inherence in, or following on substance, as Damascene says,¹ are predicated in the plural of the three persons, on account of the plurality of the supposits.

Nonetheless among such terms that signify the substance adjectivally there is an order. For some signify as inhering, but not signifying the substance according to the mode of signifying that grammarians consider when they say that a name signifies “substance with quality”; examples are verbs and participles. And such terms should in no way be predicated in the singular, since they signify through the mode of act, which latter is not signified except as inhering. But some signify the substance according to the mode considered by grammarians, like adjectival names; for every name signifies substance and quality, but they signify a form, which is a quality, as inhering, and such can be predicated more in the singular, and especially because they can be used substantively; examples are “eternal” and the like. Yet when one adds to such adjectives, through composition, some preposition denoting the bearing of one person to another person, they are more drawn to the supposit; and then they should never be predicated in the singular, but only in the plural; an example is “coeternal.”

Whence, to signify the being of the divine generation, which never passes away, we can use a verb of the present tense, so that we might say, “the Son is generated by the Father”; or to signify the perfection of the generation, we might use a verb of the past tense, so that we might call the Son “born.” Moreover, so that we might conclude to each at the same time, that is, the perfection and the being of the generation, he is most fittingly called “always born,” so that both the unfailing being of the generation might be signified through its perpetuity, and its perfection might be signified through the past tense. However, if we were to say, “he is always being born,” only the unfailing being of the generation would be signified, and not its perfection. Therefore it is better to say “always born” than to say “always being born.” However, in the other divine things that are not signified as in coming to be, we more fittingly use the present tense.

But the Apostle says that ‘Christ’ is ‘the power of God and the wisdom of God.’¹ On the contrary: he is speaking of either the essential wisdom or of the begotten wisdom: if the essential, it is certain that would be in the Father, even if there were no Son, as is true of the essence; whereas if it is the begotten wisdom, above Augustine had said² that the Father is not wise by the wisdom that he begot. Therefore even if the Son did not exist, it would not follow that the Father would not be wise. Then it seems that Augustine’s argument is invalid.

To this one should say that the Apostle is speaking of the essential wisdom insofar as it is appropriated to the Son. Now, in what is appropriated, as such, the account of the proper is understood; this is how Augustine is proceeding. Or it can be said, and better, that he is speaking about the begotten wisdom. For he does not say that the Father is wise through that wisdom, but that he possesses that wisdom. However, it is incongruous to say that God now has any wisdom that he did not have before, since this would assert a change in him.

But then, how is God unchangeable?¹ It seems that this does not follow since, according to the Philosopher,² there is no motion in the category of toward-something, so no changeability can be inferred from the onset of a relation. Furthermore, God is called “Creator” because he gives existence to what is created, and “Father” because he gives existence to the Son, but it does not follow that he is changeable even though he is now the Creator and was not so from eternity. Therefore so too it would not follow that he is changeable if he was not always the Father.

The voice is silent, and not only mine, but also that of angels.¹ He is calling the “voice of the angels” what they bodily express in their assumed bodies, or else he means their spiritual speech itself, insofar as they order their own conceptions to make something known. Nonetheless this will be looked into elsewhere, in Book II.²

It is not lawful to search the highest mysteries,¹ such that someone might want to transcend the limits of faith about the temporal generation in the Incarnation, which is indeed ineffable insofar as it ends at the union in the person of God. Yet in a certain way it is effable, on the side of the very body assumed, which was drawn from the Virgin.

As often as the light arises from which the splendor emanates, so often does also the splendor of brilliance arise.¹ This likeness should be understood as related to the eternal generation not according to the act’s discontinuity, which in the rising of the bodily light makes a number of sunrises (for the reason that the bodily sun is not always present), but only according to its continuity.

He is the living God and the power of the eternal nature is of the living God.¹ In these words Hilary intends to conclude that the Son begotten of the Father is alive, thus: in everything alive one can find a power that is owed to the living. But God is alive. So in him, one finds a power that is owed him as living. Now, this is that he would bring forth something living from himself. Therefore the Son, who is brought forth from him, is alive.

Therefore the major premise of the first syllogism is not explicit, but he states the minor at he is the living God, and so on. The conclusion, which is the major premise in the second syllogism, he touches on when he says, the power of the eternal nature is of the living God, that is, the power of the living is of an eternal divine nature, that is, it is owed to the living. He is silent about the minor premise of the second syllogism, but he states the conclusion at whatever is born from him with the mystery of his knowledge could not be other than living,¹ that is, the Son who is born of the Father, the secret knowledge of whose birth only the Father holds in comprehension. He could not be other than living.² And here “mystery” (sacramentum) is being taken insofar as it indicates a sacred secret.

He gives testimony that all that lives in him is from the living God,¹ that is, all the attributes, each of which lives in the Son.

His birth was complete,¹ that is, it has the complete account and name of birth.

For there is nothing new when a living God is generated by a living God.¹ For in things that are generated through a complete change, even though generation that comes from the living ends at something alive, still at the beginning of the generation what is generated is not alive. But the Son of God is always alive. Therefore he is begotten not through a separation or a change. And thus the life itself of the Father is numerically the same as that in the Son. And on account of this he adds he must necessarily live in the living God, that is, the Son in the Father, insofar as the Son is the Father’s life, which lives in the Father. And in the same way he has life living within himself, that is, the essence of the Father, who is a living life.

By the mystery of his birth, the Father imparts to him the image of his own unbegottenness,¹ that is, his own innascibility. For the Son does not imitate the Father in innascibility.

For if begetting pertains to the begetter endlessly, then to be begotten also pertains to the one who is begotten endlessly.¹ “Endlessly” here is taken negatively, not privatively, for neither the passive nor the active generation is bound or comprehended by an end. Yet one should not say that it is infinite in the mode of quantity, the way time or motion is, since then it would never be complete.

Furthermore, knowledge is not perfected unless the will is conjoined to it. But as the intellect stands to the will, so a word stands to love. Therefore a word will not be perfected without love. But the Word of God is perfect. Therefore a perfect love is also associated with it, and this is the Holy Spirit.

Now, supposing, in accordance with our faith, that there is a procession of divine persons in the unity of the essence, for the proof of which no sufficient argument is found, this procession of persons, which is perfect, must be the account and cause of the procession of what is created. Hence, we trace back the procession of created things, imperfectly representing the perfection of the divine nature, to the perfect image containing the divine perfection most fully—that is, the Son—as to its principle, exemplar, and account, as it were, of the natural procession of created things from God, according to an imitation of his nature. In the same way, then, insofar as the procession of what is created is due to the liberality of the divine will, it must be traced back to one principle which is the account, as it were, of the entirety of liberal giving. However, this is love, under the account of which all things are conferred by the will. And therefore there must be some person in God proceeding through the mode of love, and this is the Holy Spirit. This is also why certain philosophers¹ posited love as the principle of the whole of nature.

Therefore, insofar as love is essential, it is common to the three persons, but is appropriated to the Holy Spirit, as when it is said, God is love (1 John 4:16); insofar as it is personal, it is proper to the Holy Spirit and it is said that the Holy Spirit proceeds “as love”; but insofar as it is notional, it is a certain relation or notion common to the Father and the Son, which is also called “common spiration”; and it is in this way that “love” is signified in the verb “love,” when it is said, “the Father and the Son love themselves by the Holy Spirit.”

Furthermore, this is seen from the authority of the Apostle in Ephesians 4:3: be eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. And so love has the account of a bond and a connection.

Now, “subtlety” is spoken of by way of a remoteness from materiality. Accordingly, things that are very material, like earth, we call “gross,” and things that are much less so, like air and fire, we call “subtle.” Hence, since to be removed from matter belongs more to incorporeal things, and most of all to God, “spirituality,” according to the account of its signification, is found by priority in God, and more so in incorporeal things than in corporeal things. However, perhaps according to the first imposition of the name does “spirituality” apply more to bodily things, because their subtlety is more manifest to us, who have imposed the name.

Therefore, following this, I say that “spirit,” insofar as it names the subtlety of a nature, is common to the three persons; but the Holy Spirit is named from spirituality for two reasons. One reason and the chief one is, as I believe, that through him and the gift of himself we are drawn into a participation of the divine spirituality, insofar as we are removed from temporal things. This is why those who are contemptuous of temporal things are called “spiritual.” And this belongs to him insofar as he proceeds as love, which has the account of the first gift in which all gifts are given. The other reason is that he is the love of the Father for the Son, by which they love each other, and we say that the lover and the beloved are “united in spirit.”

Moreover, since “person” is a name of dignity, that relation must pertain to dignity. Therefore in this way one must consider three things in the constituting of persons: what is the relation of origin, what is proper, and what pertains to dignity. Now, a relation of origin is indicated commonly in these two things: “someone from another” and “the other from whom he is.” However, when I say “the other from whom,” this is something pertaining to dignity, but it is common. Hence to constitute a person he must be determined through a specific mode of origin.

However, in the divine there can be only two modes of origin, insofar as every agent is divided into one that acts by nature and one that acts by will. And these actions, which are found in created things,¹ are traced back, as to a cause and exemplar, to the two processions in God, of which the one is through the mode of nature—and is called “generation”—and the other through the mode of will—and is called “spiration.”² Therefore, one must specify “the other from whom” through generation, and “the other from whom” through spiration. But these two do not conflict with each other, since the same thing can be a principle of many things in diverse ways. Hence from this “the other from whom” is not constituted two persons, but only one; for nothing has the power to bring about a distinction except what has some account of opposition. In this way, therefore, we have one person—someone from whom there is someone through generation and spiration, namely, the Father.

However, if we take the other—the one who is from another—although this indicates a relation of origin, it nevertheless does not suffice to constitute a person, both because it is common, and because it indicates nothing of dignity. For something can be from another in either a noble or an ignoble manner. Hence to constitute a person, he must be determined through a specific mode pertaining to dignity; and there are only two such modes in God. Therefore it will be necessary to speak thus: he who is from another through generation, and he who is from another through spiration. But these two cannot belong to one person, since one real thing has only one mode by which it arises from another. For what comes about by nature and what about by art are not the same in species, nor what comes about through putrefaction and through fertilization. And therefore there will be one person who is from another through generation, and this is the Son, and another who is from another through spiration, and this is the Holy Spirit. And since these relations cannot be numerically multiplied in such a way that there would remain a unity in species, because in God there is no material division, there must be only three persons.

Reply Sed Contra: The solution is clear from things said in the body of the article.

The Holy Spirit is love or charity or dilection of the Father and the Son.¹ These three things are related to one another by addition. For “love” indicates the affect’s simple inclination toward the beloved; hence it sometimes also indicates a passion, insofar as it is in the sensitive part of the soul, and in this way love is found even in irrational things. However, “dilection” presupposes choice (electio), as the name itself shows; hence it belongs only to rational things. But “charity” asserts a certain vehemence of dilection, insofar as the beloved is held at an inestimable price, insofar as many precious things are called ‘dear’ (carae).

For whether it is a question of the unity, or of the holiness, or of the love of the first two persons, it is clear it is not one of these two who is the one by whom the two are joined.¹ He is said to be the unity insofar as he is the bond of the Father and the Son, as was said,² but he is said to be their holiness insofar as he proceeds by the procession of will, wherein consists the whole of sanctity.

Furthermore, the same thing is shown through a likeness. For the image of the Trinity is in the soul. But the love in the soul, which represents the Holy Spirit, proceeds from knowledge, which represents the Son. Therefore in the divine the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son.

Furthermore, every love proceeds from the lover. But the Holy Spirit is of the Father and the Son, according to the authority introduced from Damascene, as their love.¹ Therefore he proceeds from each.

Furthermore, as has been said,¹ nothing simple proceeds from many unless they are united in essence and action. But the Holy Spirit is simple. Therefore he proceeds from the Father and the Son insofar as they are one.

Furthermore (5), you might say that the property of the Holy Spirit is repugnant to this.

Likewise, I say that spiration goes forth from the essence, not as from the one spirating, but as from the principle of the spiration, insofar as it has the account of a certain notion common to the Father and the Son; this is called “common spiration.” And in this way the “spirative power” signifies the essence under the account of such a property. And therefore I say that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son insofar as they are one in essence and in a certain notion, that is, in common spiration. And through this the arguments on each side are to be resolved.

God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts.¹ This proof does not seem sufficient, since the Greeks confess that the Holy Spirit is of the Son, but not that he is from the Son.² But one should say to this that, because a genitive noun must be constructed in a certain relation, no other relation can be found than one of origin; for only such a relation distinguishes the persons. Therefore one must grant that the Holy Spirit arises from the Son.

Whom I send to you from the Father.¹ It seems that this proof is also insufficient, since here he is speaking about the temporal procession of the Holy Spirit, which the Greeks grant is from the Son, but not that the eternal one is. But to this one should say that, because the temporal procession includes the eternal, as will be explained below,² he from whom he proceeds temporally is also he from whom he proceeds eternally.

‘Whoever should teach or preach otherwise,’ that is, whoever should teach the contrary.¹ Here the Master explains it well, taking “otherwise” to mean “contrariwise.” For what is not contrary to Sacred Scripture is the truth of it, according to Anselm;² nor can it be the case that all things that should be explicitly believed are contained in that creed, wherein no mention is made of the descent into hell. However, the procession of the Holy Spirit is contained there implicitly, insofar as the distinction of persons is contained there, which could not be otherwise, as was said.

But the Greeks ask how the Latins dared to add this.¹ To this one should say that it was necessary, as their error shows, and as does the authority of the Roman Church gathering the synod, in which something that was implicitly contained in the articles of the faith was being made explicit.