Saint Anselm of Canterbury
Proslogion (with the replies of Gaunilo and Anselm)
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Contents: I) About Anselm II) On Faith and Reason III) Reflections on the Text IV) Textual Analysis |
I) About Anselm:
Saint Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109 c.e.) was born near Aosta, which is today at the northern tip of Italy but was then a town within the Kingdom of Burgundy, which extended over what is today France, Italy, and Switzerland. We do not know much about his early life, other than he left home at 23 and supposedly aimlessly wandered for three years (some sources say he attempted to become a monk in his hometown and was turned away, hence the move) before settling in Normandy, France in 1059.
The following year, he entered (as a novice) the Benedictine Abbey at Bec to study under the well-reputed prior, Lanfranc. He excelled in his studies and was elected to succeed Lanfranc as prior and then as abbot in 1078. Under his leadership, the abbey became known as an intellectual center and Anselm, himself, produced much work, including his Monologion, Proslogion, De grammatico, De veritate, De libertate arbitrii, and De casu diaboli (the last four being philosophic dialogues; all of the works are from the period between 1075 and 1086).
In 1093, Anselm became the Archbishop of Canterbury—a post in which he suffered great instability due to its position under King William Rufus of England, who exerted severe control over the affairs of the Church; William’s successor, Henry I was less vicious, but maintained as strict control as his predecessor; Anselm endure two exiles, one under each Ruler. He did go on to write at least seven further works before his death in 1109. Posthumously, in 1494, he was canonized by the Church (the declaration of a deceased person to be a saint and their inclusion in the canon of all saints) and then, in 1720, named a Doctor of the Church (a Catholic title for a saint whose writings are deemed of great importance and who is said to have both great learning and great sanctity).
Anselm is most renown for his “ontological argument” proving the existence of God—“proving” is key, here, for, as we will see, his is a rationalist theological argument, no matter his unique interpretation of rationalism. His oft-repeated maxim (and one of the original titles of the Proslogion) is fides quaerens intellectum, “faith seeking understanding.” The definitions of and the interplay between faith and reason are of utter importance for thinking through Anselm.
Anselm’s note on his titles:
Monologion: “… which means a speech made to oneself …”
Proslogion: “… which means a speech made to another …”
- (Anselm, Proslogion: with the replies of Gaunilo and Anselm, trans. Thomas Williams (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 2001), Prologue, 3--all page numbers below, unless noted, from this translation and edition).
II) On Faith and Reason:
Faith and reason seem to be a simple dichotomy—two opposing sides of a topic—just like day and night, black and white, hot and cold. In this sense, then, we would define faith as that which we believe and define reason as that which we know wherein faith’s belief would rest on a matter of testimony whereas reason’s knowledge would rest on a matter of logic or argument. And, this conception is fairly valid, although it spawns a common bias and obscures a simple realization:
- The bias: we are quick to presume that matters of faith are subjective, radically relative, and thus antithetical to validation, let alone truth; on the flip side, we are quick to presume that matters of reason are objective, concretely factual, and thus capable of apodictic (certain) validation and are true. We must acknowledge this bias and rethink the idea that faith is opinion and reason is fact.
- The realization: in any dichotomy, the two sides may be opposites, but they are not unrelated. Does the idea of “night” make any sense without the corresponding idea of “day?” (This will be a crucial point for Descartes’ conception of material falsity in his Third Meditation.) Dichotomies must be thought together as much as they thought as contraries.
For Anselm, while faith is certainly a matter of belief, it is not an entirely epistemological matter. Instead, faith is passionate—a matter of love, more so than belief. It is a concernful directedness towards God; it is not just adherence to a belief, but a stance that we take, out of and directed by love, towards God. Reason, then, is our obedient response to our love; we strive to know and understand that with which we are in love: God.
Therefore his adage, “faith seeking understanding,” is not an order to replace faith with understanding, but a pronouncement about our engagement with things religious: our faith, our love for God, encourages our active seeking of understanding. His argument for God’s existence, then, is thoroughly rational, driven by a passionate desire for knowledge, and is a natural response and activity born out of faith.
III) Reflections on the Text:
{In part, these reflections are inspired by the bitter after taste from identifying Anselm as a thorough rationalist, as our medieval turn from mysticism to announce the conditions for the birth of scholasticism; they echo the above insistence that his motto's emphasis on the passions is not to be forgotten when working through his logical arguments; they propose paying close attention to the stylistic features of his work as red strings around the finger reminding us that his argumentation is done due his passion, his love for God, and can be seen as a spiritual exercise. The following just introduces a way of thinking deeper into what it means to "incline your thought," an invitation Anselm offers and one finds echoed long after in Martin Heidegger}
The title, Proslogion, means “a speech made to another”—showing his form of the work to be, too, a dialogue—but the “other” is not just the fool that Anselm calls out for saying in his heart that there is no God; there are two earlier calls starting off chapter one (Prologue, p.3). This first chapter is titled “A rousing of the mind to the contemplation of God” ...
- Such “rousing” is a call to climb an incline, engage one's proper “inclination,” a term that, all the way back to classical Latin, suggests a natural disposition. Inclinations are embedded in and further formative of character or psyche, marking distinctive biases, individuating one from another, be it one’s penchant for the arts or humanity’s demarcation thereby as the “rational animal.” Although reason may define us, with thought today being crudely condemned to containment within the brain, and plenty of other critters have brains besides us, I think it a worthwhile pursuit to reconsider what made us those animals thusly defined. That is, what is the inclination to thought that has yielded us as named rational? I believe that to think about 'inclining' is to consider a more primordial question about being. (And, thus, let us think of Anselm's text as doing more than flexing a logical muscle to show a fool-proof ontological argument, and truly be something more broadly ontological.)
... Anselm's first chapter title immediately suggests an activation of thought closely synonymous to “inclining” in its use of “rousing.” The mind will be called to contemplate the most important matter, but the rousing itself calls to two other parties. “Come now, insignificant mortal,” is the first paragraph’s first sentence; the second paragraph’s opening is “Come now, O Lord my God.” In the first paragraph, Anselm beseeches us, his readers, to put aside all other thoughts and concerns and meditate along with him in a pious act of seeking God. And with the resonance of an incantation, the second paragraph Anselm beseeches God to come to him, to teach him where and how to seek Him, and where and how to find Him. “Teach my heart where and how to seek you, where and how to find you. … since you are absent” (Ch.1, p.4).
- Consider a parallel call for inclining our thought through a contemporary comparison ... Anselm is beseeching us to meditate along with him, asking us to do the work of thinking of God we are naturally given to do. Inclination’s inclining, the primordial work of thinking (to use Martin Heidegger's expression), is thinking the unthought (God as the superessentiality, that which is beyond all thought, but not wholly so, and because He also calls for us to think towards Him). This work is of “awakening a readiness in man for a possibility whose contour remains obscure, whose coming remains uncertain,” and “It prepares its own transformation in this learning” (Heidegger, “The End of Philosophy and the Task of Thinking,” collected in Basic Writings, ed. David Farrell Krell (New York: Harper Perennial Modern Collins, 2008), 427-49, 436). Inclining to thinking the unthought will be transformative.
- Yet, it is a work we frequently avoid. Heidegger, in What Calls for Thinking?, establishes that our incapacity to think is not a mere fault of the person—for example, if one simply was distracted by the idle talk or concerns of the everyday—instead, “the thing itself that must be thought about turns away from man, has turned away long ago. … what really must be thought keeps itself turned away from man since the beginning” (Martin Heidegger, What is Called Thinking?, trans. J. Glenn Gray (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1968), Pt. I, Lec. I, 7). Concealment is an essential dimension of all that presences, of all that is, but knowing this does not keep the anxiety at bay.
- Heidegger begins with a desperate question—“But how can we have the least knowledge of something that withdraws from the beginning, how can we even give it a name?”—but Anselm offers us four pages of his torment. “How am I to approach an inaccessible light?,” “What shall he do, this distant exile from you? What shall your servant do, deeply troubled by his love for you and ‘banished from your face’?” (Heidegger, What is Called Thinking?, Op. Cit., 8, and Anselm, Proslogion, Op. Cit., 4, wherein the last contains Anselm’s quotation of Psalm 51:11). How can we think that which surpasses all thought?!
- In response to the question of how we can name that which withdraws from us from the very beginning, Heidegger introduces the idea of withdrawal as an event, Ereignis: “Whatever withdraws, refuses arrival. But—withdrawing is not nothing. Withdrawal is an event. In fact, what withdraws may even concern and claim man more essentially than anything present that strikes and touches him” (Heidegger, What is Called Thinking?, Op. Cit., 8-9). A withdrawal may be a privation, but a lack of something is still not nothing at all—the becoming absent has a greatest strength.
- The intensity is captured best by our Saint—yes, our Saint Anselm, the one so frequently characterized as rigidly logical to the degree of cold absurdity—as he suffers over pages “banished,” but “desires to enter your presence,” “find you,” “seek you,” in your “chamber,” “behind closed doors,” for “You have made me and remade me,” me, who is “wretched,” “lost,” in “misery,” who now “hungers,” “cries,” “sighs,” begging,” “cast out,” “driven,” “thrown down,” “buried so deep” “from the vision of God into our blindness,” from “joy” to “terror,” “What a wretched change!” “O woeful loss, woeful sorrow, all is woeful,” “sighs are closing in,” “How long, O Lord, will you forget us?,” “When will you give yourself to us again?,” “Give yourself to us again,” “I beseech you Lord, let me not sigh in despair,” “sweeten me,” “in my hunger,” “starving,” “let me not leave unsatisfied,” “Let me seek you in desiring you; let me desire you in seeking you. Let me find you in loving you; let me love you in finding you” (Anselm, Proslogion, 4-6).
- Thinking—rousing the mind to the contemplation of the most important question of the meaning of being, be it God’s or human—is no mere automation of a human function, is not a task undertaken with cold disinterest, but it is a task. It is from an inclination we have by nature, but an inclination that must be inclined to its activation. The inclination towards us that happens in that sudden flash pulls away from us, but the force of the withdrawal awakens and arouses our deepest longings, inclining our very beings’ passionate core to it.
More thoughts may very well come later ... but let us move to Anselm's actual text ...
IV) Textual Analysis:
The Proslogion has two main goals: prove the existence of God and prove His having the various attributes that Christians have attributed to him.
The tradition of knowing God by knowing his attributes is long and rich; the essence of the argument underscoring this is that to know that which exceeds knowing can be done (to degrees hotly debated) by knowing his attributes. His attributes are often also called His names; they are like proper names insofar as being a creator, all that is, is of Him, thus it is legitimate to call Him by the names of that which He has created. We can know these creations, and many principles of creation, thus we can know something of Him.
Some of the main attributes that Anselm rationally establishes include: existence, noncorporealness (first to establish His perception, later, eternality & perfection), omnipotence, mercy, impassible, justice, His essence is His existence, unbounded, eternal, seen and not seen, inaccessible light, harmony, fragrance, savor, softness, beauty, part-less (one), outside of place and time, Trinitarian, complete, and good. Many of these arguments necessitate one another.
The Proslogion has two main goals: prove the existence of God and prove His having the various attributes that Christians have attributed to him.
- (Many of these attributes come from the Torah, just as many of the philosophical principles and precise designations in all three of the Abrahamic religions originally come from Plato, Aristotle, and their followers, but this context gives us the Christian attributes primarily from the Old and New Testaments).
The tradition of knowing God by knowing his attributes is long and rich; the essence of the argument underscoring this is that to know that which exceeds knowing can be done (to degrees hotly debated) by knowing his attributes. His attributes are often also called His names; they are like proper names insofar as being a creator, all that is, is of Him, thus it is legitimate to call Him by the names of that which He has created. We can know these creations, and many principles of creation, thus we can know something of Him.
Some of the main attributes that Anselm rationally establishes include: existence, noncorporealness (first to establish His perception, later, eternality & perfection), omnipotence, mercy, impassible, justice, His essence is His existence, unbounded, eternal, seen and not seen, inaccessible light, harmony, fragrance, savor, softness, beauty, part-less (one), outside of place and time, Trinitarian, complete, and good. Many of these arguments necessitate one another.
Prologue:
Anselm begins by telling us that he had come to realize that his earlier work, the Monologion, a meditation on the rational basis for faith, was very complex and wondered if he could discover a simple argument, wholly rational, thus depending upon nothing outside of itself, to prove that God exists and to legitimate the attributes the faithful have given Him.
Note that he writes fairly extensively about the intensity of his search for an answer and how this desire for a simple argument became a prevailing temptation. There is a synchronicity here with Plato’s portrayal of Socrates—questions are temptations and bring on trials, more than just invitations to respond, they bear an intense necessity that we respond to them, like the “divine mission” Socrates’ credits with his dedication to philosophy that he will not quit it, even if it would have his life spared.
Notice also, on style, that Anselm says that he is writing about his at-last found argument by “… adopting the role of someone trying to raise his mind to the contemplation of God and seeking to understand what he believes” (Proslogion, trans. Williams, p.2). (Consider, too, how this can be seen as akin to Descartes: the form of the work is a meditation, contemplation, where the writer mediates so as to invite the reader to meditate along with him.) Anselm pens his work from the position of a believer who is trying to understand what he already accepts as belief. This style accords neatly with his titles, as he explains in the end of the Prologue, he entitled his first work Monologion: “… which means a speech made to oneself …” and his latter work Proslogion: “… which means a speech made to another …” (3). His style, then, is as revelatory of meaning as is his content: we readers are receiving his speech, yet, we are also meditating with him, thus, our activity is a speech to another, too: we, too, are showing the fool the error of his ways by the self-evident reason employed.
Anselm begins by telling us that he had come to realize that his earlier work, the Monologion, a meditation on the rational basis for faith, was very complex and wondered if he could discover a simple argument, wholly rational, thus depending upon nothing outside of itself, to prove that God exists and to legitimate the attributes the faithful have given Him.
Note that he writes fairly extensively about the intensity of his search for an answer and how this desire for a simple argument became a prevailing temptation. There is a synchronicity here with Plato’s portrayal of Socrates—questions are temptations and bring on trials, more than just invitations to respond, they bear an intense necessity that we respond to them, like the “divine mission” Socrates’ credits with his dedication to philosophy that he will not quit it, even if it would have his life spared.
Notice also, on style, that Anselm says that he is writing about his at-last found argument by “… adopting the role of someone trying to raise his mind to the contemplation of God and seeking to understand what he believes” (Proslogion, trans. Williams, p.2). (Consider, too, how this can be seen as akin to Descartes: the form of the work is a meditation, contemplation, where the writer mediates so as to invite the reader to meditate along with him.) Anselm pens his work from the position of a believer who is trying to understand what he already accepts as belief. This style accords neatly with his titles, as he explains in the end of the Prologue, he entitled his first work Monologion: “… which means a speech made to oneself …” and his latter work Proslogion: “… which means a speech made to another …” (3). His style, then, is as revelatory of meaning as is his content: we readers are receiving his speech, yet, we are also meditating with him, thus, our activity is a speech to another, too: we, too, are showing the fool the error of his ways by the self-evident reason employed.
Chapter One: A Rousing of the Mind to the Contemplation of God
Notice more about his style: the language is fluid and broaching the bombastic, pretty and persuasive. He also speaks through Scriptural quotation throughout ...
In the first paragraph, Anselm beseeches us, his readers, to put aside all other thoughts and concerns and meditate as a seeking of God. The second paragraph reveals Anselm beseeching God to teach him where and how to seek him and where and how to find him.
Asks if he is present or absent. If you are present, why can I not see you? If you are absent, where shall I look for you?
“What shall your servant do, tormented by love of you and yet cast off ‘far from your face’ [Ps.i.13]? He yearns to see you and your countenance is too far away from him. He desires to come close to you, and your dwelling place is inaccessible; he longs to find you and does not know where you are; he is eager to seek you out and he does not know your countenance.” (Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 149—different translation of Williams, 4).
Notice the incredibly passionate language—come now, insignificant mortal, enter into the chamber, seek him behind closed doors, servant, tormented, love, banished, presence, aspires, remade me, wretched, hunger, lamentation, outcry, begging, woe, cast out, driven, thrown out, buried so deep, woeful loss, woeful sorrow, wretched, reaching, give yourself to us, striving after you, beseech you, sigh in despair, breath hopefully, hunger, yearns, let me not depart from you empty, starving, let me not leave unsatisfied, I sigh, I sigh, (and again) I sigh, entangle me, extricate me, eroded by my vices, clouded by the smoke of my sins, I long, eager, seek, desiring you, loving you.
There is no mistaking the message herein: we are wretched and wretched in our longing to know God. Knowledge is not a task undertaken with cold disinterest, no matter how (coldly) logical our reason will be that helps us attain it.
The last paragraph (along with a quick curb to some of the desperate beseeching) notes one way of intellectual access to God: we are said to be created in His image—thus, using our image as a guide, we should be able to know some about Him … but, Anselm says, “this image is so eroded by my vices, so clouded by the smoke of my sins, that it cannot do what it was created to do unless you renew and refashion it” (6). Thus, reason alone cannot get us knowledge; knowledge of God still requires grace, God’s assistance. Then ends on a note about the interplay of faith and reason.
Chapter Two: That God Truly Exists:
Anselm asks God to help him understand that he exists. He quotes Psalm 14:1, 53:1: “The Fool has said in his heart, there is no God.” Nevertheless, the fool understands Anselm when he says “something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought.” What one understands is in one’s mind, even if one does not understand that it actually exists. It is one thing to understand X in the mind; it is another to understand X in reality.
For example, think of a painter who plans what he will paint in advance, he has the picture in his mind, but he thinks it does not yet exist because he has not painted it. However, when the painting is actually executed, then he has it both in his mind and understands that it exists because he has now painted it.
Even the Fool, then, is forced to agree that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought exists in the mind, since he understands this when he hears it, and whatever is understood is in the mind. Yet, the something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought cannot exist in the mind alone, for then something greater—with existence—could indeed be thought. Therefore, there is no doubt that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought exists both in the mind and reality.
This chapter sketches out what has become known as Anselm’s “ontological argument” and, if not his greatest contribution to philosophy, than at least his most well-known. Remember that ontology is the study of being; the argument, then, is one that argumentatively demonstrates the existence of God.*
In essence: The argument uses the line from Psalm 14:1 and 53:1, “The Fool has said in his heart, there is no God,” as a provocation—can we convince the fool he is wrong? Anselm believes yes, we can; all that we need to do is (1) define God as “that than which nothing greater can be thought.” The fool can understand this statement, as can we conceive of the uppermost limit of thought (if thought is bounded, we do not have infinite knowledge, than it has a limit; if we can think of a limit, we can think of that which exceeds it). So, all Anselm has to do is to (2) demonstrate that that which is understood exists in the understanding, and (3) if it exists in the understanding, it also exists in reality. The content of the understanding is a superlative (nothing greater); since it is greater to exist in reality (and understanding), instead of just understanding, it necessitates that its object exists in both. Thus, God, as “that than which nothing greater can be thought,” exists (and, in a way that the fool must be able to understand).
~ ~ ~ Define --> understands --> exists in understanding --> is greatest --> exists in reality --> define as God. ~ ~ ~
Notice more about his style: the language is fluid and broaching the bombastic, pretty and persuasive. He also speaks through Scriptural quotation throughout ...
- (speculate on why? Why do we quote others: justification, authority, etc.? Does he just quote them, or is he doing even more, weaving his voice with the voices of authority? Weaving his voice in to a chorus of voices that seek and/or know his intended object of praise and inquiry?)
In the first paragraph, Anselm beseeches us, his readers, to put aside all other thoughts and concerns and meditate as a seeking of God. The second paragraph reveals Anselm beseeching God to teach him where and how to seek him and where and how to find him.
Asks if he is present or absent. If you are present, why can I not see you? If you are absent, where shall I look for you?
- (This will echo loudly for those who know Augustine—today, or then—whose autobiography—the first of its genre—was the chronicle of a man seeking truth, educationally, philosophically, religiously, etc.)
“What shall your servant do, tormented by love of you and yet cast off ‘far from your face’ [Ps.i.13]? He yearns to see you and your countenance is too far away from him. He desires to come close to you, and your dwelling place is inaccessible; he longs to find you and does not know where you are; he is eager to seek you out and he does not know your countenance.” (Philosophy in the Middle Ages, 149—different translation of Williams, 4).
Notice the incredibly passionate language—come now, insignificant mortal, enter into the chamber, seek him behind closed doors, servant, tormented, love, banished, presence, aspires, remade me, wretched, hunger, lamentation, outcry, begging, woe, cast out, driven, thrown out, buried so deep, woeful loss, woeful sorrow, wretched, reaching, give yourself to us, striving after you, beseech you, sigh in despair, breath hopefully, hunger, yearns, let me not depart from you empty, starving, let me not leave unsatisfied, I sigh, I sigh, (and again) I sigh, entangle me, extricate me, eroded by my vices, clouded by the smoke of my sins, I long, eager, seek, desiring you, loving you.
- (He writes to put the doubt and despair of a Charles Bukowski head to head with the obscene eroticism of Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin with the more flowery erotic poetry of Pablo Neruda, almost veering towards the realm of Halmark greeting card writers—he puts them all together and all to shame! Consider this in relation to Augustine’s Confessions, also Lyotard’s Augustine’s Confession and George Bataille’s Eroticism)
There is no mistaking the message herein: we are wretched and wretched in our longing to know God. Knowledge is not a task undertaken with cold disinterest, no matter how (coldly) logical our reason will be that helps us attain it.
The last paragraph (along with a quick curb to some of the desperate beseeching) notes one way of intellectual access to God: we are said to be created in His image—thus, using our image as a guide, we should be able to know some about Him … but, Anselm says, “this image is so eroded by my vices, so clouded by the smoke of my sins, that it cannot do what it was created to do unless you renew and refashion it” (6). Thus, reason alone cannot get us knowledge; knowledge of God still requires grace, God’s assistance. Then ends on a note about the interplay of faith and reason.
Chapter Two: That God Truly Exists:
Anselm asks God to help him understand that he exists. He quotes Psalm 14:1, 53:1: “The Fool has said in his heart, there is no God.” Nevertheless, the fool understands Anselm when he says “something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought.” What one understands is in one’s mind, even if one does not understand that it actually exists. It is one thing to understand X in the mind; it is another to understand X in reality.
For example, think of a painter who plans what he will paint in advance, he has the picture in his mind, but he thinks it does not yet exist because he has not painted it. However, when the painting is actually executed, then he has it both in his mind and understands that it exists because he has now painted it.
Even the Fool, then, is forced to agree that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought exists in the mind, since he understands this when he hears it, and whatever is understood is in the mind. Yet, the something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought cannot exist in the mind alone, for then something greater—with existence—could indeed be thought. Therefore, there is no doubt that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought exists both in the mind and reality.
This chapter sketches out what has become known as Anselm’s “ontological argument” and, if not his greatest contribution to philosophy, than at least his most well-known. Remember that ontology is the study of being; the argument, then, is one that argumentatively demonstrates the existence of God.*
- * Consider the different ways that argument’s for God’s existence could be made: we can argue ontologically, thereby look at the essence of God so as to prove His existence; we can argue cosmologically, thereby look at the physical and metaphysical world so as to necessitate His existence; similar to cosmological arguments (what has the power to create all this here?), are teleological arguments, thereby looking at telos, the end or goal (hence a more selective list of properties) to argue God’s necessary existence from or to design; we can argue anthropologically, thereby look at the human constitution and its necessity to have a creator (e.g., universality of human desire for the One).
In essence: The argument uses the line from Psalm 14:1 and 53:1, “The Fool has said in his heart, there is no God,” as a provocation—can we convince the fool he is wrong? Anselm believes yes, we can; all that we need to do is (1) define God as “that than which nothing greater can be thought.” The fool can understand this statement, as can we conceive of the uppermost limit of thought (if thought is bounded, we do not have infinite knowledge, than it has a limit; if we can think of a limit, we can think of that which exceeds it). So, all Anselm has to do is to (2) demonstrate that that which is understood exists in the understanding, and (3) if it exists in the understanding, it also exists in reality. The content of the understanding is a superlative (nothing greater); since it is greater to exist in reality (and understanding), instead of just understanding, it necessitates that its object exists in both. Thus, God, as “that than which nothing greater can be thought,” exists (and, in a way that the fool must be able to understand).
~ ~ ~ Define --> understands --> exists in understanding --> is greatest --> exists in reality --> define as God. ~ ~ ~
Chapter Three: That God Cannot be Thought Not to Exist
This something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought exists and since it is so great, we cannot think that it does not exist. Thus, it truly exists. God identified as this being. And this is the way it should be, for if some intelligence could think better, then the creature would be above the creator and judge the creator and “that is completely absurd.”
So why did the Fool say this when it is so evident to all rational minds that you exist to the highest degree? Why, unless he was stupid and a fool?
Chapter Four: How “the Fool Said in his Heart” What Cannot be Thought
How has the Fool said in his heart what he cannot think? How can he not think what he has said in his heart—since to say in one’s heart is the same as to think? But, since he both thought (because he said in his heart) and did not say in his heart (because he did not think), there cannot be only one sense in which something is said in one’s heart and thought.
In one sense, a thing is thought when the word signifying it is thought.
In the first sense, God can be thought not to exist.
No one, according to Anselm, who understands what God is, can think that God does not exist, even if one says the words in one’s heart, either without any objective signification or with some peculiar signification because God is something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought. Whoever really understands this understands that this being exists in a way that He cannot be thought to not exist. Thus, if you understand this, you cannot think He does not exist.
Anselm closes this chapter by giving thanks: “Thanks be to you, my good Lord, thanks be to you. For what I once believed through your grace, I now understand through your illumination, so that even if I did not want to believe that you exist, I could not fail to understand that you exist” (9).
{alternate translation: “I give thanks, good Lord…since what I believed before through Your free gift I now so understand through Your illumination, that if I did not want to believe that You existed, I should nevertheless be unable not to understand it” (Philosophy in the Middle Ages)}
Notice the circling and the blurring of the faith and understanding interplay (reinforces belief as a disposition—we can will to believe or force away beliefs—whereas knowledge cinches certainty … Anselm is blurring the Greek and Christian understandings of belief and knowledge).
This something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought exists and since it is so great, we cannot think that it does not exist. Thus, it truly exists. God identified as this being. And this is the way it should be, for if some intelligence could think better, then the creature would be above the creator and judge the creator and “that is completely absurd.”
So why did the Fool say this when it is so evident to all rational minds that you exist to the highest degree? Why, unless he was stupid and a fool?
Chapter Four: How “the Fool Said in his Heart” What Cannot be Thought
How has the Fool said in his heart what he cannot think? How can he not think what he has said in his heart—since to say in one’s heart is the same as to think? But, since he both thought (because he said in his heart) and did not say in his heart (because he did not think), there cannot be only one sense in which something is said in one’s heart and thought.
In one sense, a thing is thought when the word signifying it is thought.
- I think of a cat when I think the word “cat.”
- I think of a cat when I think of cat, in itself.
In the first sense, God can be thought not to exist.
- I can think “God” and “no God”—as words, logically, we can think both.
- I cannot think of God, Himself, and also think of Him not being—the definition of God prohibits his non-existence.
No one, according to Anselm, who understands what God is, can think that God does not exist, even if one says the words in one’s heart, either without any objective signification or with some peculiar signification because God is something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought. Whoever really understands this understands that this being exists in a way that He cannot be thought to not exist. Thus, if you understand this, you cannot think He does not exist.
Anselm closes this chapter by giving thanks: “Thanks be to you, my good Lord, thanks be to you. For what I once believed through your grace, I now understand through your illumination, so that even if I did not want to believe that you exist, I could not fail to understand that you exist” (9).
{alternate translation: “I give thanks, good Lord…since what I believed before through Your free gift I now so understand through Your illumination, that if I did not want to believe that You existed, I should nevertheless be unable not to understand it” (Philosophy in the Middle Ages)}
Notice the circling and the blurring of the faith and understanding interplay (reinforces belief as a disposition—we can will to believe or force away beliefs—whereas knowledge cinches certainty … Anselm is blurring the Greek and Christian understandings of belief and knowledge).
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God is, then, “the greatest of beings,” He “alone exists through himself,” and “made all other things from nothing” (Anselm, Proslogion, ch.5). Creation of Angels, illumination in ms. Harley 3240 |
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Chapter Five: That God is whatever it is better to be than not to be; and that he alone exists through himself, and makes all other things from nothing:
Okay … So, he has proven that God is, but now he wants to know “Then what are you, Lord God, than whom nothing greater can be thought? What are you …” (9)?
Well, from what we have determined, that He is, we have a platform from which to proceed. The establishment of his existence required his definition to be that than which nothing greater can be thought. This, then means that we have a few more bits of knowledge: He is, then, “the greatest of beings,” “[he] alone exists through himself,” and “made all other things from nothing” (9).
Why? If nothing greater can be thought, then he is the greatest. He must be the creator of all, since he is the greatest, and nothing less great can create that which is more great, thus he exists through himself, instead of having another creator. And, since he is the greatest and the creator, all that is must have come from him, thus it cannot have come before him, and before him (i.e., his creation of all) there cannot have been anything.
He then adds more attributes: Just, truthful, happy, and whatever it is better to be than not to be. These are justified because of the clause that necessitates that his greatness cannot permit him to lack any good. These attributes are all goods, thus, he must have them.
Chapter Six: How God can perceive even though he is not a body
He begins with a series of attributes and questions that will guide him over the next many chapters:
He deals here with the last question, concerning perception. First, what is it? Is it to know or is it aimed at knowledge? He decides perception is knowing according to the appropriate sense. For example, we know color through sight, flavor through taste, sound through hearing, etc.
Thus, “… it is not inappropriate to say that whatever in some way knows also in some way perceives” (10). Thus, Anselm decides that despite God not having a body (since he does not, mainly because a body is corruptible, and God cannot be), insofar as he knows we can say in some way he also perceives—notably, he does so supremely, since his knowledge is not little, like ours, but superlative—and, notably, he just does not do so in the same way animals do so.
Chapter Seven: In What Sense God is omnipotent even though there are many things he cannot do
Another question from chapter six: How can you be omnipotent if you cannot do everything?
What can God not do? Be corrupted, lie, cause what is true to be false. (this last one is odd.)
To not do these things, then, is this a power to not do them, or a weakness?
Anselm argues, interestingly, that one who does these things does something that is not beneficial to him/herself; the more s/he does them, the more wickedness that comes to be done to him; thus, the power to do them gives power to the bad things, which trump the power of the self—“So whoever can do these things can do them, not in virtue of his power, but in virtue of his weakness” (10).
So, his “power” to do them is a giving of one’s power over to something else, thus, the “power” is an “impotence,” a weakness.
Otherwise, Anselm argues, it could be that we just use the words all related to power, having it and not, doing and cannot do, etc., in a lose and non-precise way and we do not actually say anything hindering God’s omnipotence when we say he does not corrupt, lie, etc.
Chapter Five: That God is whatever it is better to be than not to be; and that he alone exists through himself, and makes all other things from nothing:
Okay … So, he has proven that God is, but now he wants to know “Then what are you, Lord God, than whom nothing greater can be thought? What are you …” (9)?
Well, from what we have determined, that He is, we have a platform from which to proceed. The establishment of his existence required his definition to be that than which nothing greater can be thought. This, then means that we have a few more bits of knowledge: He is, then, “the greatest of beings,” “[he] alone exists through himself,” and “made all other things from nothing” (9).
Why? If nothing greater can be thought, then he is the greatest. He must be the creator of all, since he is the greatest, and nothing less great can create that which is more great, thus he exists through himself, instead of having another creator. And, since he is the greatest and the creator, all that is must have come from him, thus it cannot have come before him, and before him (i.e., his creation of all) there cannot have been anything.
He then adds more attributes: Just, truthful, happy, and whatever it is better to be than not to be. These are justified because of the clause that necessitates that his greatness cannot permit him to lack any good. These attributes are all goods, thus, he must have them.
Chapter Six: How God can perceive even though he is not a body
He begins with a series of attributes and questions that will guide him over the next many chapters:
- The attributes: percipient (i.e., perceptive, insightful, understanding), omnipotent (i.e., all powerful), merciful, and impassible (i.e., not subject to passions, pains, sorrows, etc., emotionless in the sense of solid, stoic).
- The questions: How can you be omnipotent if you cannot do everything (e.g., not exist)? How can you be merciful and impassible (i.e., have empathy and not have it?)? Since you are spirit, not a corporeal thing, yet senses rest in bodies, how can you perceive?
He deals here with the last question, concerning perception. First, what is it? Is it to know or is it aimed at knowledge? He decides perception is knowing according to the appropriate sense. For example, we know color through sight, flavor through taste, sound through hearing, etc.
Thus, “… it is not inappropriate to say that whatever in some way knows also in some way perceives” (10). Thus, Anselm decides that despite God not having a body (since he does not, mainly because a body is corruptible, and God cannot be), insofar as he knows we can say in some way he also perceives—notably, he does so supremely, since his knowledge is not little, like ours, but superlative—and, notably, he just does not do so in the same way animals do so.
Chapter Seven: In What Sense God is omnipotent even though there are many things he cannot do
Another question from chapter six: How can you be omnipotent if you cannot do everything?
- Keep in mind the noted Latin word play herein: power (potentia), weakness (impotentia), the verb ‘can’ (posse)—also translated in our translation as “to have power,” omnipotent (omnipotens)—which literally translated means “able to do everything” (Omnia potens)—these all employ the same stem.
What can God not do? Be corrupted, lie, cause what is true to be false. (this last one is odd.)
To not do these things, then, is this a power to not do them, or a weakness?
Anselm argues, interestingly, that one who does these things does something that is not beneficial to him/herself; the more s/he does them, the more wickedness that comes to be done to him; thus, the power to do them gives power to the bad things, which trump the power of the self—“So whoever can do these things can do them, not in virtue of his power, but in virtue of his weakness” (10).
So, his “power” to do them is a giving of one’s power over to something else, thus, the “power” is an “impotence,” a weakness.
Otherwise, Anselm argues, it could be that we just use the words all related to power, having it and not, doing and cannot do, etc., in a lose and non-precise way and we do not actually say anything hindering God’s omnipotence when we say he does not corrupt, lie, etc.
Chapter Eight: How God is both merciful and impassible
He deals with another question from chapter six: How can you be merciful and impassible?
To be impassible is not to feel compassion; if you do not feel compassion, how can you be merciful? Part of Anselm’s working out of the argument plays on the differences between effects and affects—in essence, what we feel as opposed to what we have/do. We feel the effect of mercy when God spares us; God does not feel the affect of mercy because he is impassible. Thus, this is why he can be just without feeling the afflictions from compassion and sorrow.
Chapter Nine: How the One who is completely and supremely Just spares the wicked and justly has mercy on them
How can you spare the wicked, and yet be just? Is it not unjust to spare those who are guilty?
This is a very tough question and Anselm asks, “Or, since your goodness is incomprehensible, does this lie hidden in the ‘inaccessible light where you dwell’? (1 Timothy 6:16)” and then answers, yes, “It is indeed in the highest and most sacred place of your goodness that the spring is hidden whence the river of your mercy flows” (11).
God is “totally and supremely just,” and yet, Anselm states, “you are nonetheless kind even to the wicked, since you are totally and supremely good” (12).
God’s mercy, then, logically follows from his goodness. “We can see the source of your mercy, and yet we cannot discern it clearly” (12). This is why we wonder about your justness, because our understanding is deficient (God is that who “surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7)). We are however (or need to be reminded to be) utterly thankful for your mercy on us.
But… He then asks God to help him understand. Is your mercy born from your justice? Is it because it is just to be good? Even if the sayings he has tried are wrong, it is still right to believe that God is just when being merciful to the wicked.
Chapter Ten: How God justly punishes and justly spares the wicked
And, yet, he continues on the same line of questioning further. If it is just to be merciful, is it also just to punish the wicked? How do you both punish and spare the wicked? Do you punish in one way, spare in another way? Is the punishment in accord with its merits of wrong doing and the sparing in accord with your merits of mercy and justness?
He ambiguously decides there is no inconsistency between just punishment and just sparing because they are in accordance with different things.
Chapter Eleven: How “All the ways of the Lord are mercy and truth,” and yet “the Lord is just in all his ways”
But … can there still be no inconsistency, and yet we argue the accord to be the same? That is, can’t we find a way for it to be understood as just to God to punish the wicked, just as it is just for them to be punished (and, we would presume, the inverse, too, substituting mercy for justice)?
Yes: it is just for God to punish or pardon. In analogy, Anselm notes that it is just for a person to treat good and evil people justly, not just the good.
Anselm closes reaffirming the previous attributes and adding new ones: God is, then: percipient, omnipotent, merciful, impassible, living, wise, good, happy, eternal, and whatever it is better to be than not to be.
Chapter Twelve: That God is the very life by which he lives, and so on for similar attributes
God is what he is, in and of himself, and is not any of these things because of other things. Anselm may be adding this short passage because, despite our interlocking arguments necessitating other things, we should not then presume that these things in God are there by the force of some outside necessity; instead, it is only the way through which we come to understand that makes them seem so.
Chapter Thirteen: How he alone is unbounded and eternal, although other spirits are unbounded and eternal
God is not in space or time because the enclosure in each would be less good than being free of both. Since God alone is the superlative, the greatest that can be thought, than he exists beyond space and time. But, then, what of the other eternal and unbounded spirits?
God is the one and only unbounded and eternal “thing” (for lack of a proper generic noun). There are other spirits, but they are eternal and unbounded from our perspective, as corporeal things, not from the perspective of God.
Chapter Fourteen: How and Why God is both seen and not seen by those who seek him
Anselm asks his soul if it has found that for which it sought—knowledge of God? He repeats what he has learned (with a few additions): “… he is the highest of all beings, that which nothing better can be thought; that he is life itself, light, wisdom, goodness, eternal happiness, and happy eternity; and that he exists always and everywhere” (15).
Then, most interestingly: “If you have not found your God, how is he the one whom you have found, whom you have understood with such certain truth and true certainty? But if you have found him, why do you not perceive what you have found?” (15-6).
Remember the ontological argument—existence in reality issued necessarily from existence in understanding… thus, Anselm must address this question: if we understand God (eh, well, um, some great things about God, in our limited, yet ever seeking because we are ever loving, human way), then God exists in understanding, and for him to be the greatest, he must also exist in reality … so, where is he?
There are many “perhaps” in working out the issue—he raises one major one in this chapter:
Perhaps whom we found as light and truth is not God (not saying there is another, but that as light and truth, this is not as God, in and of himself wholly)? In other words, have we only seen part of you, thus we haven’t seen you?
Anselm breaks to note how we long for God, thus long to know more. Why can’t we know more?, he asks. Knowing you is greater than all things, we desire it greatest, but, this also explains why “Truly it is more than any creature can understand” (16).
Chapter Fifteen: That God is Greater than can be Thought
Let us then revisit the ontological argument basics: we can know God’s existence and attributes, by reason alone… but, didn’t the last chapter (amongst others) just reinforce our perennial and unchangeable unknowing state? Yes… but… we know that God is more than we can know. It is certain knowledge, with God as the excess (that is logically consistent with the first premise) beyond all our knowledge.
Chapter Sixteen: That This is the “inaccessible light where he dwells”
Light is a common attribute/name given to God, as it is connected, too, to reason or understanding (e.g. Plato’s cave, Plotinus, Augustine, Pseudo-Dionysius, etc.). Light, here, however, is noted not just for its illuminating capacities, but also its excessive brilliance. Light can illuminate, as it can also blind us. God, then, illuminates, yet is also so bright that he blinds us: “Indeed, the reason that I do not see it is that it is too much for me” (17). Yet—even as we cannot fully see due to the dazzling brilliance, yet, all that we do see is precisely by this light (his analogy: we see by the light of the sun, despite our being unable to look at the sun directly).
He concludes by moving from sight to presence: He is far from our sight, yet we are present to His; He is present everywhere, yet we cannot see Him. “You are within me and all around me, and yet I do not perceive you” (17).
Chapter Seventeen: That in God there is harmony, fragrance, savor, softness, and beauty in his own ineffable way
Continues from sixteen on perception—God does not lack anything good, so he has qualities for perception, but only “in your own ineffable way” (17), and has given these qualities (and capacities for perceiving them) to the created. Anselm attributes our incapacity to perceive God in such ways (hearing, smelling, teasing, touch, and visual perception) to how “the senses of my soul have been stiffened, dulled, and obstructed by the long-standing weakness of sin” (17).
Let us then revisit the ontological argument basics: we can know God’s existence and attributes, by reason alone… but, didn’t the last chapter (amongst others) just reinforce our perennial and unchangeable unknowing state? Yes… but… we know that God is more than we can know. It is certain knowledge, with God as the excess (that is logically consistent with the first premise) beyond all our knowledge.
- Recall Socrates’ definition of wisdom as knowing what one does not know!
Chapter Sixteen: That This is the “inaccessible light where he dwells”
Light is a common attribute/name given to God, as it is connected, too, to reason or understanding (e.g. Plato’s cave, Plotinus, Augustine, Pseudo-Dionysius, etc.). Light, here, however, is noted not just for its illuminating capacities, but also its excessive brilliance. Light can illuminate, as it can also blind us. God, then, illuminates, yet is also so bright that he blinds us: “Indeed, the reason that I do not see it is that it is too much for me” (17). Yet—even as we cannot fully see due to the dazzling brilliance, yet, all that we do see is precisely by this light (his analogy: we see by the light of the sun, despite our being unable to look at the sun directly).
He concludes by moving from sight to presence: He is far from our sight, yet we are present to His; He is present everywhere, yet we cannot see Him. “You are within me and all around me, and yet I do not perceive you” (17).
Chapter Seventeen: That in God there is harmony, fragrance, savor, softness, and beauty in his own ineffable way
Continues from sixteen on perception—God does not lack anything good, so he has qualities for perception, but only “in your own ineffable way” (17), and has given these qualities (and capacities for perceiving them) to the created. Anselm attributes our incapacity to perceive God in such ways (hearing, smelling, teasing, touch, and visual perception) to how “the senses of my soul have been stiffened, dulled, and obstructed by the long-standing weakness of sin” (17).
Chapter Eighteen: That there are no parts in God or in his eternity, which he himself is
Note the opening paragraph: the philosophical work pauses to allow for a moment of intense spiritual anguish: "My soul hoped for satisfaction, and once again it is overwhelmed by need" (18).
The second paragraph begins with a return to primary questions: “What are you, Lord, what are you? What shall my heart understand you to be?” (18). Anselm then delineates key attributes he has thus far established: life, wisdom, truth, goodness, happiness, eternity, and every true good. And we see where he is going to turn next: mereology. If God is all these things, is He many, or is He one?
“How then, Lord, are you all these things? Are they parts of you? Or rather, is not each of them all that you are? For whatever composed of parts is not completely one. It is in some sense a plurality and not identical with itself, and it can be broken up either in fact or at least in the understanding. But such characteristics are foreign to you, than whom nothing better can be thought. Therefore there are no parts in you, Lord, and you are not a plurality. Instead, you are so much a unity, so much identical with yourself, that you are in no respect dissimilar to yourself” (18).
Every attribute is not a mere part of God, but they are all one; each is what God is, and each is what the others are.
Anselm ends this chapter transitioning from God’s oneness to how no part exists in a certain time or place, for then it would be outside of God’s eternality, and not a whole oneness, thus: “you exist as a whole in every place, and your eternity exists as a whole always” (19).
Note the opening paragraph: the philosophical work pauses to allow for a moment of intense spiritual anguish: "My soul hoped for satisfaction, and once again it is overwhelmed by need" (18).
The second paragraph begins with a return to primary questions: “What are you, Lord, what are you? What shall my heart understand you to be?” (18). Anselm then delineates key attributes he has thus far established: life, wisdom, truth, goodness, happiness, eternity, and every true good. And we see where he is going to turn next: mereology. If God is all these things, is He many, or is He one?
“How then, Lord, are you all these things? Are they parts of you? Or rather, is not each of them all that you are? For whatever composed of parts is not completely one. It is in some sense a plurality and not identical with itself, and it can be broken up either in fact or at least in the understanding. But such characteristics are foreign to you, than whom nothing better can be thought. Therefore there are no parts in you, Lord, and you are not a plurality. Instead, you are so much a unity, so much identical with yourself, that you are in no respect dissimilar to yourself” (18).
Every attribute is not a mere part of God, but they are all one; each is what God is, and each is what the others are.
Anselm ends this chapter transitioning from God’s oneness to how no part exists in a certain time or place, for then it would be outside of God’s eternality, and not a whole oneness, thus: “you exist as a whole in every place, and your eternity exists as a whole always” (19).
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“How then, Lord, are you all these things? Are they parts of you? Or rather, is not each of them all that you are? For whatever composed of parts is not completely one. ... Therefore there are no parts in you, Lord, and you are not a plurality. Instead, you are so much a unity, so much identical with yourself, that you are in no respect dissimilar to yourself” (Anselm, Proslogion, ch.18). |
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Chapter Nineteen: That God is not in a place or time, but all things are in him
“… how does your eternity exist as a whole always?” (19).
For our everyday experience, the past is no more and the future not yet, but surely this cannot be the case for God, instead, “yesterday, today, and tomorrow you are. In fact, it is not even the case that yesterday, today, and tomorrow you are; rather, you are simply outside time altogether. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow are merely in time. But you, although nothing exists without you, do not exist in a place or a time; rather, all things exist in you. For nothing contains you, but you contain all things” (19).
Chapter Twenty: That he is before and beyond even all eternal things
“But how are you beyond all things? In what way are you beyond those things that will have no end?” (19).
Anselm offers possibilities:
- “Is it because they can in no way exist without you, …?” (19)
- “because they can be thought to have an end, …?” (19)
- And because you, God, “surpass even all eternal things in that both your and their eternity is wholly present to you …?” (20)
And the answer to all three is ~yes~ … each is an answer how because each builds upon the foregoing to establish the argument and answer that God is beyond all things, even eternal things, because eternal things are not as eternal as God is eternal (for we can think them having ends, whereas God, being that than which nothing is greater, cannot be thought to end), thus: “you are indeed always beyond them, because you are always present somewhere they have not yet arrived—or because it is always present to you” (20).
Chapter Twenty One: Whether this is “the age of the age” or “the ages of the ages”
Very brief chapter that shows that the Scriptural and Liturgical dual uses of “age” and “ages” is proper … i.e., both use the singular saeculum saeculi and plural saecula saeculorum (i.e., from the ancient Greek εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας τῶν αἰώνων (or: eis toùs aiônas tôn aiṓnōn), into the Latin in saecula saeculorum, or the Hebrew לעולם ועד, which are literally translated as “into ages of ages,” “forever and until,” or typically translated “world without end” or “for ever and ever” or “eternally” or “timelessly”).
Anselm writes: “This eternity [of God’s] is indeed ‘an age’ because of its indivisible unity, but it is ‘ages’ because of its boundless greatness” (20).
Chapter Twenty Two: That he alone is what he is and who he is
This chapter makes the argument that, uniquely, God is that for which existence and essence are whole and one … “you are what you are; and you are who you are” (20).
For all other beings, existents that have parts, existence is changeable through time, and essence is distinct from its existence, as its eternal part, but, as a part of an existent, it, too, ‘changes’ by connection to its existent being. For God, though, He is the one being for whom existence and essence are one, and He is wholly and always what and who He is.
Anselm ends with elaboration and specification of the whatness/whoness of God by emphasizing Him as: “the one supreme good, utterly self-sufficient, needing nothing, whom all things need for their being and their well-being” (21)—which prefaces the coming emphasis on God’s goodness, though, first, one more chapter thoroughly on the mereological considerations.
Chapter Twenty-Three: That this good is equally Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; and that this is the “one necessary thing,” which is the complete, total, and only good
Building off of simplicity into goodness and love, this chapter emphasizes that God as simplicity is Him as truth and that truth is The Word, which is God as Son, and “this good is the one love that is shared by you and your Son, that is, the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from you both” (21). Love is the supreme unite-er and equal between all aspects. “Thus, whatever each of you is individually, that is what the whole Trinity is at once, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; for each of you individually is nothing other than the supremely simple unity and supremely united simplicity, which cannot be multiplied or different from itself” (21).
He ends the chapter by referencing Luke 10:42 (“there is need of only one thing …”) as to the one necessity—Anselm identifies this as that which is all good.
Chapter Twenty-Four: A Conjecture as to what sort of good this is, and how great it is
Beginning with personal and passionate call to himself, Anselm cries: “Bestir yourself, O my soul!” (21). Calling himself to raise up his thought to the height of this divine goodness. Calling himself to an almost empirical self-consideration of the delight he feels from the good as prompt to think his way up to the goodness that God is (recalling quite well Al-Ghazzali’s analogical work of knowing the self so as to know God—Anselm stresses analogy by difference of degree: how great is created life, thus how much greater is the creator of created life).
He ends, simply: “In short, if there are many and great delights in delightful things, what kind and how great a delight is there in him who made those delightful things?” (22).
"... they will be drunk with the abundance of the house (Psalm 36:8)" (Anselm, Proslogion, Ch.25, p.22) |
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Chapter Twenty-Five: What great goods there are for those who enjoy this good
As the last chapter began with Anselm’s address of his soul, this one begins with him crying out to all souls about what they do and ought desire. If we incline our thought from the delight of things here to the immense delight of the highest level of the good … how could we possibly waste our time “wandering through many things” when we could have more, when we ought to “Love the one good, in which are all good things, and that is enough. Desire the simple good, which is the complete good, and that is enough. What do you love, O my flesh? What do you long for, O my soul? It is there; whatever you love, whatever you long for, it is there” (22).
And Anselm continues in a way that cannot help but surprise us, even as reading Boethius showed us that the false goods were really just partial goods that, united and purified were the one true good, and as Pseudo-Dionysius well prepared us with his erotic longings and Al-Ghazzali primed us to not shun the things of the world, for even the construction of your fingers shows the greatness of God …
He continues to hasten us to desiring The Good, no matter our fancy:
- If it is beauty … or swiftness and strength … or freedom of a body … long and healthy life … satisfaction … drunkenness … music … pleasure … wisdom … friendship … concord … power … wealth and honor … or true security …
Thus: “What great joy there is where so great a good is present!” (23). Our human hearts are so troubled, so ask if they can even comprehend the joy they could feel at so great a good as God. Attaining such joy seems, too, for Anselm, to have cosmic to social trickle down effects of redoubling joy throughout for others, too. (Hence hearkening the “fullness of Joy” topic of the last chapter.)
Chapter Twenty-Six: Whether this is the “fullness of Joy” that the Lord Promises
Quoting John 16:24—“ask and you shall receive, that your joy may be full”—Anselm asks God whether the “hope and joy” of his heart is the joy that He promised to us, as told us by John—and this because, Anselm reports, he has “found a joy that is full and more than full” (24).
“Indeed, when the heart, the mind, the soul, and the whole human being are filled with that joy, there will still remain joy beyond measure. The whole of that joy will therefore not enter into those who rejoice; instead, those who rejoice will enter wholly into that joy” (24).
- Recall my opening reflection that asked us to consider Proslogion as more than Anselm’s crafty ontological argument logically proving the existence and attributes of God. Instead, I offered, let us think the whole work as more broadly ontological. For his rationalist text was passionate, and his motto fides quaerens intellectum, “faith seeking understanding,” and denominates the stance of the reader-alongside-author inclining their thought to thinking, to seeking the object of their desire.
He asks God to “tell your servant inwardly”—speaking within and to one’s interiority in a way echoing the fool’s inward speech, but as that proved impossible, this inward communication can only be affirmation. And yet, the inward speaking is telling of what surely “no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man” (Corinthians 2:9). The fool said to himself that there was no God, but such a claim cannot be true, and yet the inward truth of God’s joy is ineffable. So: “How much will they know you then, Lord, and how much will they love you? Truly in this life ‘eye has not seen, nor has ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man’ how much they will love and know you in that life” (24).
So Anselm prays. He prays to know and love God, and he prays that if he cannot do so fully in this life, he will at least increase day by day. As this final paragraph moves on into its last note—“Until then” (25)—we hear him echoing another Scriptural passage … it is unquoted and uncited, but the resonance is there, and re-sounds from Augustine (VIII.1, X.5, XII.13, XIII.15), Pseudo-Dionysius (592C), and Al-Ghazzali (I.8):
Parliament of Heaven, Morgan Library, Ms. M1207.
- “For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity” (I Corinthians 13:9-13).
- Augustine: “Your words had stuck in my heart and I was hedged around about on all sides by Thee. Of your eternal life I was now certain, although I had seen it in an enigma and as through a glass. But I had ceased to have any doubt that there was an incorruptible substance from which came every substance. I no longer desired to be more certain of you, only to stand more firmly in you” (Augustine, Confessions, trans. Rex Warner (New York: Signet Classic, Penguin Putnam, Inc., 2001), Bk. VIII, p.150). And, again: “So I will confess what I know of myself, and I will also confess what I do not know of myself; because what I know of myself I know by means of your light shining upon me and what I do not know remains unknown to me until my darkness be as the noonday in your countenance” (Ibid., X.5, p.206).
- Pseudo-Dionysius: “And there we shall be, our minds away from passion and from earth, and we shall have a conceptual gift of light from him and, somehow, in a way we cannot know, we shall be united with him and, our understanding carried away, blessedly happy, we shall be struck by his blazing light. … But as for now, what happens is this … We use whatever appropriate symbols we can for the things of God” (Pseudo-Dionysius, Divine Names, 592C). And while “all things long for it. The intelligent and rational long for it by way of knowledge, the lower strata by way of perception, the remainder by way of the stirrings of being alive and in whatever fashion befits their condition” (Ibid., 593D)—thus, a child in one way, an adult in another.
- Al-Ghazzali: “The heart is like a bright mirror; repugnant traits are like smoke and darkness which, when they touch it, darken it so that tomorrow one will not see the Divine Presence and it will become veiled” (Al-Ghazzali, On Knowing Yourself and God, I.8, p.18).
For Anselm, he prays for the fullness of joy, for his seeking to ever increase it; for he wishes to experience the “joy beyond measure” (24), but “Until then, let my mind ponder on it, my tongue speak of it. Let my heart love it and my mouth proclaim it. Let my soul hunger for it, my flesh thirst for it, my whole being long for it, until I ‘enter into the joy of my Lord,’ who is God, Three in One, ‘blessed for ever. Amen’ (Romans 1:25)” (25).--and so many say Anselm’s logic is cold!
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Creatures, perhaps to be found on that Lost Island ... Sirens (detail) in the Northumberland Bestiary, ca. 1250–60, unknown illuminator, made in England. The J. Paul Getty Museum. Ms. 100, fol. 14. |
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A Reply to the Foregoing by a Certain Writer on Behalf of the Fool {By Gaunilo}
[Summary of Anselm’s Argument (p.28, ¶1)] For one who doubts or denies the existence of such a nature that nothing greater can be thought, the Proslogion says that its existence is proved by: FIRST—because the one who doubts/denies it already has it in his mind since when he hears it spoken he understands what is said. SECOND—because what he understands is necessarily such that it exists not only in the mind, but also in reality. This is proved because it is greater to exist in both than in just the mind.
[Gaunilo’s thesis of critique, from which three main arguments will come (p.28, ¶2)] But—the Fool can perhaps reply that this thing is said to exist in the mind only in the sense that I understood what is said. Can I not say that there are all kinds of unreal things that exist in the mind, yet do not exist in reality, and that I can understand when people speak about them?
[Gaunilo offers a brief rebuttal to his critique (p.28, ¶2)] Perhaps—this thing is special in that it can be in the mind differently than other unreal or doubtfully real things (e.g. it is a qualitatively different sort of thought that cannot be held in the same way I think of Santa Claus or unicorns)—thus, to understand it, I have it in my mind in a way that I grasp some knowledge of it that it itself exists.
[But … Gaunilo then poses three arguments (28-9)] But—if this is the case, then there are problems:
- [Argument 1 introduced: Painter Critique / Unreal Things] First—there will be no difference between having an object in mind (taken as preceding in time) and understanding that the object actually exists (taken as following in time), as in the case of the picture which exists first in the mind and then in the completed work.
- [Argument 2 introduced: “why bother” / Species/Genus] Thus, it would not be thinkable that, when this object had been spoken of, it could not be thought not to exist in the same way in which God can be thought not to exist. (For, if God cannot be thought to not exist, why put forth this whole argument?)
- [Argument 3 introduced: need certainty of existence in reality / Lost Island] Finally—that it is such a thing that, as soon as it is thought of, it cannot but be certainly perceived by the mind as indubitably existing, must be proved to me by an argument (not just by saying that it is in my mind already when I hear it). Otherwise, this is like arguing that doubtfully real or unreal things are capable of existing because I understand them when I hear them spoken of.
THUS ... RE:
[Argument 1: Painter Critique / Unreal Things (29)] In essence, this critique is saying that Anselm’s painting example is crummy—but, more broadly, it allows Gaunilo to preface the main thesis of his critique: how is God unlike unreal things? In more detail: the example of the painter having the picture of the painting he is about to make in his mind already does not support this argument. For the picture (before it is made) is contained in the art of the painter. Anything in the art of an artist is nothing but a certain part of his understanding. (This is supported by Augustine: “When the artisan is about actually to make a box he has it before hand in his art. The box which is actually made is not a living thing, but the box which is in his art is a living thing since the soul of the artists, in which these things exist before their actual realization, is a living thing”). If these things are living in the soul of the artist, they are identical with the understanding or knowledge of the soul.
- But—BESIDES those things that are known to belong to the nature of mind itself, like any truth perceived by being heard or understood, then it cannot be doubted that this truth is one thing and that the understanding which grasps it is another. Therefore, even if it were true that there is something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought, this thing, heard and understood would not be the same as the not-yet-made picture is in the mind of the painter.
[Argument 2: “why bother” / Species/Genus (29-30)] Upon hearing the definition of God as something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought, I cannot think this being in terms of an object know to me either by species or genus, just as I cannot think God Himself. And, if I cannot think God Himself (know Him by knowing His essence in and of itself), and I cannot think God as the genus from which species come, and I cannot think God as a species of being … how can I think Him at all … hence, of course I can think He does NOT exist, because I can’t think His existence! In other words … I know neither the reality itself, nor can I form an idea of it from other things in me (b/c nothing else can be like it).
If someone tells me about a man I neither know, nor even know if he really exists, I can still think about this stranger because I have either a specific or general idea about what is man. The speaker could be a liar, and the man may not exist, even though I thought of him as existing, not as a particular, but as man in general.
Thus, I have that object “man in general” in my mind when I hear a man spoken of … ON THE CONTRARY … When “God” or “something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought” is spoken, I cannot know God’s essence, hence I can only think “God” on the very word “G-O-D.” (Hence … No access to the essence (GENUS) of God Himself by which to understand the definition.)
Further, I can think “man” in terms of a truly existing thing known to me, hence, by knowing species of the object (e.g., I know Bob, Dan, Philip, so I can think ‘unknown man like the others’). I know nothing at all about God, save for the verbal formula, hence cannot use this way of knowing to know Him. (Hence … No access via SPECIES to know God.)
Finally, on the verbal formula alone I can never determine truth. When thinking via “verbal formulas,” one doesn’t actually think of the word itself (which is indeed a real thing as letter or syllable) but as the MEANING of the word. If we don’t know the referent of the word, we will not know anything by the word alone. This would look like grasping for an affection in the mind produced by hearing the word spoken, and grasping further for some imaginative conjuring and guessing as to what the sound might mean. As Gaunilo coolly puts it: It would be astonishing if this person could ever attain the truth of the thing this way. “So much for the claim that that supreme nature exists already in my mind.” (Hence … No access via word alone to know God.)
[Argument 3: need certainty of existence in reality / Lost Island (30-33)]
Argument 3 Outline:
- a) There is no necessary connections from existence in the mind to existence in reality: need an argument;
- b) the argument of “greatest” does not work; you are trying to convince the fool, who rejects the greatest;
- c) example: The Lost Island: need an argument that it exists as excellent in the understanding AS a thing that truly exists;
- d) your argument is circular;
- e) consider “thought” (which can be false) versus “understanding” (which cannot be false)
a) Instead of making us guess from a mere sound what God might be … you need an actual argument as to how this thing actually exists in reality! Even if I grant an understanding of the word “God” as “something than which nothing greater can be thought,” this does not necessitate its existence in reality. I have no logical proof of this move (mainly because the painter example does not fit at all).
b) Your argument forgets who it is addressing! You say this argument is given because of your definition “greatest,” but the fool is precisely doubting God’s existence, that is that the greatest exists! You need an argument here! The movement of existence in the understanding to existence in reality is not automatic and self-evident (31).
I do not yet admit (I doubt or deny) that this greater than anything really is an existing thing. I also do not admit that it exists in a different way than when a mind tries to imagine a completely unknown thing on the basis of the words alone. How can you prove to me on that basis that that which is greater than anything truly exists in reality if I deny that this is evident? That I deny that this greater than anything else is either in my mind or thought not even in the sense that doubtfully real and unreal things are? First, you have to prove to me that this greater thing truly exists in reality somewhere, and then only will the fact that it is greater than all else be made clear show that it exists in itself.
c) For Example: They say that in the ocean there is an island they call the “Lost Island” because of the difficulty (impossibility) of finding that which does not exist. The story goes that it is blessed in riches, for it has no owner. It is superior in every respect to the riches of those islands that have inhabitants.
d) If someone tells me this story, I easily understand what is said. But, if the teller then made the logical conclusion that: you cannot doubt that this island, which is greater than all other lands, really exists somewhere in reality just as you cannot doubt that it exists in your mind. This is because it is more excellent to exist in reality than in the mind alone, thus, since it is the most excellent island, it must exist in both mind and reality.
If someone said this, I would think s/he was joking. THIS IS A CIRCULAR ARGUMENT. I would be a fool to agree, just as he would be a fool to expect me to agree. A fool, unless he had previously convinced me that the island’s excellence existed in my mind in the same way a thing existing truly and indubitably, not just as something doubtfully real or unreal.
This is how the Fool might first respond. Then, when you assert that this greater than everything else is such that it cannot be thought not to exist (again, with no other proof), then the Fool would say: When have I ever said that there truly existed some being that is greater than everything else, such that form this it could be proved to me that this same thing existed to such a degree that it could be thought not to exist?
That is why one must first prove that there is a higher nature, that which is greater. We need this established before we can infer anything else.
e) When, however, it is said that this supreme being cannot be thought not to exist, it would maybe be better to say it cannot be understood not to exist nor even to be able not to exist. Unreal things cannot be understood, although they can be thought of in the same way as the Fool thought that God does not exist. I know certainly that I exist, I also know that I can not-exist. I understand without doubt that that which exists in the highest degree both exists and cannot not-exist. I do not know, however, whether I can think of myself not existing while I know with certainty that I do exist. If I can think this about myself, why can I not think it about anything else I know certainly? If I cannot think this about myself, though, then this will not be the distinguishing characteristic of God.
Everything else in your book is brilliantly argued, and should not be rejected because of this part. You ought to more fully demonstrate this part so everything can have greater reception and praise.
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“What can be more obvious then this?” --Anselm, in his reply to Gaunillo. Fox (detail) in the Rochester Bestiary, ca. 1230–1300s, made in England, possibly Rochester. British Library, Ms. Royal 12 F XIII, fol. 26v |
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A Reply to the Foregoing by the Author of the Book in Question:
It is not the Fool who responds to me, but an orthodox Christian on behalf of the Fool, therefore I will reply directly to the Christian.
[1] [If it cannot be understood, then it is either not God or God is not thought of] You say that the something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought is in the mind only in the way something is that cannot be thought in the true sense. You claim that its existence in reality does not follow from its existence in my mind (anymore than the Lost Island).
I reply: If something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought is neither understood nor thought of, neither in the mind nor in thought, then either (1) God is not something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought, or (2) God is neither thought of nor understood and not in mind or thought.
My strongest argument is to appeal to your faith and conscience.
Therefore, that-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought IS TRULY UNDERSTOOD AND THOUGHT AND IS IN THE MIND AND IN THOUGHT.
Thus, your arguments to prove otherwise are either: untrue or what you think follows from them really does not.
You maintain that from the fact something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought is understood it does not follow that it is in the mind, or if it is in the mind that it is also in reality.
BEGINNINGS: I insist: if it can be thought, than it exists in reality. We can only think it as a being without beginning. Whatever can be thought but not exist in reality can be thought of as having a beginning. Consequently, something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought cannot be thought as existing, yet not actually exist. So, if it can be thought of existing, it exists by necessity.
FURTHER: Even a doubter will admit that if it exists and were greater than everything else, it would not be capable of not-existing. Otherwise, we could imagine something greater.
TIME AND PLACE: Further: It cannot be doubted that whatever does not exist everywhere or always does (perhaps) exist in somewhere or at sometime, can be thought to not exist anywhere or at any time, just as it does not exist in this particular place or time. For what didn’t exist yesterday and today exists can be supposed to not exist at anytime since it did not yesterday. And that which does not exist here and does exist over there can be thought to not exist anywhere because it does not exist here. [[[is this supposed to make any fucking sense?]]] Likewise for parts or a whole. If one part exists and one does not the whole does not exist because a part does not (in place and time). Therefore the something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought cannot be thought not to exist if it does actually exist. Therefore, this thing does NOT exist at a place or time, but everywhere and at every time.
See! We can understand some of this stuff about God, to some extent it CAN be understood or thought. If it could not, then we could not understand what we just argued. And if you say we have to understand it completely or else it cannot be in the mind, then you are saying something like he who cannot see the purest light of the sun cannot see daylight, which is light from the sun. SURELY THEN, something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought is understood and it is in the mind to the extent that we understand these things about it.
[II] [What is thought is in thought] THEN—I said that the Fool hears this and understands it. Otherwise, he has not intelligence. Then—I said if it is understood it is in the mind. Otherwise, could anyone say what exists in reality does not exist in the mind? That would make no sense. NEVERTHELESS, you will say that even if it is in the mind, it does not follow that it is understood. But, because it is understood, it follows that it is in the mind. For, just as what is thought is thought by means of a thought, and what is thought by a thought is thus, as thought, in thought; so thus, what is understood is understood by the mind. What is understood by the mind is thus, as understood, in the mind. “What can be more obvious then this?”
[If something-than-which-A-greater-can-be-thought, then something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought can also be thought] I said further: if a thing exists in the mind, it can be thought to exist in reality, which is greater. Therefore, if it exists only in the mind, the greater thought would be to exist in reality as well. So, even if it existed only in the mind, could we not think that it existed in reality as well, and if it can, then why can something-than-which-a-greater-canNOT-be-thought not exist as well? If we can think that something greater can exist, why can we not think something than which nothing greater can exist?
[III] [It is a truth, unlike the Lost Island, therefore it exists] You claim that this is as though someone asserted that it cannot be doubted that a Lost Island truly exists in reality, since it can be described in words.
I say that if someone can ever find for me something existing either in reality or in the mind alone, except something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought, to which the logic of my argument would apply, that I shall find that Lost Island, thus no more lost, and give it to that person.
It has already been clearly shown that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought cannot be thought not to exist, because it exists as a matter of such certain truth. Otherwise, it would not exist at all. In short, if anyone says that he thinks that this being does not exist, I reply that, when he thinks of this, either he thinks of something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought or he does not think of it.
If he does not think of it, then he does not think of something which cannot be even thought not to exist. For if it could be thought of to not exist, then it has a beginning and an end, and this is not the case. Thus, he who thinks of something that cannot be thought not to exist, indeed he who thinks of this does not think of it as not existing, otherwise he would not think what cannot be thought. Therefore, something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought cannot be thought not to exist.
[IV] [Must be “thought” not “understood,” can think X that I don’t understand] You also said that “understand” would be better than “thought.” However, it MUST be said that it cannot be THOUGHT. Because even those things we cannot understand to not exist, we can think of as not existing, except for that which exists to a supreme degree. So, you can think of yourself as not existing, and as everything else save god as not existing even when they do exist.
[V] [Clarification: state negatively, not positively] I can even meet all of your other objections, but this would be a waste of time. However, some silly readers believe your weak objections, so I will deal with them briefly:
"You say that I say that which is greater than everything exists in the mind, thus also in reality, or else something would be greater than it. However, you are wrong. I do not say “that which is greater than everything,” instead, I say “something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought.” These are NOT equivalent."
[VI] [Unreal and doubtful things don’t work in this formula, understand necessitates existence] You also insist that any unreal or doubtfully real things can equally be understood and exist in the mind in the same way as the being of which I am speaking. But how are these assertions consistent with each other? If unreal things are “understood,” and “to understand” means to know with certainty that something actually exists? Therefore, you CANNOT say that unreal things can be understood the same way as my argument. And, if you argue that unreal things can sort of be understood, then you have no right to argue that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought is in the mind before it is in reality.
[VII] [Cannot deny X if don’t understand, can understand if partially understand] Then you say that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought can be thought not to exist just as God can be thought not to exist. This is foolish, it is saying that one would deny what he understands because it is the same as denying what he does not understand. If he denies it because he doesn’t understand, then he denies what he does not think of, and how can he deny what he does not think? If he denies it because he only partly understands it, is it not easier to understand what you understand in part than to understand what you do not understand at all?
[VIII] [My formula and the Painting example are not meant to be the exact same] Your argument that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought is not like the not-yet-realized painting in the mind of the painter is besides the point. I did not use this example to say that it was exactly the same as my argument, but rather so that I could show that something not understood as existing exists in the mind.
[Can think object of formula as real because we can think of a more good] Then you say that you cannot think of something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought as a real object know either generically or specifically or have it in your mind on the grounds that you neither know the thing itself nor can you form an idea of it from other things similar to it. But this is OBVIOUSLY NOT SO. Everything that is less good is similar insofar as it good to that which is more good. It is evident for all rational minds that by thinking from less good to more good we can think of something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought. Even if one does not believe in the existence of this, one can think of it.
[IX] [Even if object not thinkable, the formula is] Even if it were true that the object of the something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought cannot be thought or understood, it would not be false that the formula something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought could be thought of and understood. One can say that X is ineffable even if one cannot define “ineffable.” One cannot think of the inconceivable, although one can think of what the “inconceivable” applies to. Therefore, when something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought is spoken of, one understands it. Even if one denies it, this denial cannot be understood apart from it.
[X] I have now proved the above by sufficiently necessary argument. Thank you for your kindness in praise and criticism, you have done such from good will.