Passions in Aquinas' Ethics: Emotivism, Cognitive Therapy, and Religious Fervour

Three things came to mind as I read S.th. 1a 2ae, qq. 59-60:  How they bear upon the philosophical faux-pas of emotivism, how they seem to add value to 'cognitive therapy,' and how they can explain the proper limits of "religious fervour."

When I read philosophy as an undergraduate, both in my introductory course and in beginning symbolic logic, our professor explained why "emotivism" is not a valid means of argumentation.  To say, for example, "Abortion!  Ugh!" does not constitute an argument at all.  Experience abounds in proving that "feeling" my way though high school multiple choice exams--especially in algebra--invariably earned me a D-minus.  It is for this reason that I will often interrupt someone who. whilst opining, begin by saying "I feel that..."  A number of public policies often gain traction thanks to how strongly-felt feelings are.  "Facts," someone rightly observed, "don't care about your feelings."

It is for this reason that Aristotle also called the 'sensitive soul' (or the 'sensitive part' of the soul) the "irrational part" in contrast to the intellecutal soul being the "rational part."  Aquinas demonstrates the irrationality of the unregulated passions by invoking St John of Damascus:  "Passion is a movement of the sensitive appetite when we imagine good or evil: in other words, passion is a movement of the irrational soul, when we think of good or evil" (1a 2ae, q. 22, art. 3, sed contra).  Aquinas explains further--

...passion is properly to be found where there is corporeal transmutation.  This corporeal transmutation is found in the act of the sensitive appetite, and is not only spiritual, as in the sensitive apprehension, but also natural.  Now there is no need for corporeal transmutation in the act of the intellectual appetite:  because this appetite is not exercised by means of a corporeal organ.  It is therefore evident that passion is more properly in the act of the sensitive appetite, than in that of the intellectual appetite; and this is again evident from the definitions of Damascene quoted above (respondeo).

Hence Horace's Ira furor breva est or, in contemporary idiom, "Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment."

But Aquinas explains that the passions are neither good nor bad (q. 59, art. 1, sed contra); the question, rather, is whether they are directed by the reason or not:  If they are, we have ordinate passions; if not, we have inordinate passions (art. 2, sed contra et respondeo).  Rather than to distrust the passions (as the Stoics did), Aquinas (following Aristotle and Augustine) sees value in them as they are able to be subjected to the reason in way analogous to how the body ought to be subject to the soul.  With temperance governing concupiscence and fortitude governing irascibility, these passions can then become powerful drives in one's increasing rectitude.

The reverse of this--the passions overriding the reason--is the raison d'etre of cognitive therapy practised by many licensed psychologists.  I have been privileged to see up close how such a method works in people suffering from depression:  The psychotherapist helps the patient to reason through certain emotions which are demonstrated to be irrational (such as the general sense of being disliked, feeling worthless, and so on).  One tool that such a psychotherapist may use would be to queue up all of the patient's positive qualities to give reason that life is worth living or he or she really is liked by his or her friends.

Cognitive therapy, it seems to me, is an (inadvertent) application of how Aquinas sees reason guiding the passions.  In fact, Aquinas hints at his later, fuller treatment of the virtue of prudence at 1a 2ae, q. 59, art., 1, respondeo and how it, in turn, governs all of the other cardinal virtues.  The difference between 'passions' and 'virtue,' says Aquinas, is that whereas the former is a "movement of the sensitive appetite," the latter is a "habit" which is a principle of right action.

What are we to make of, then, 'religious fervour'?  Ever since Ronald Knox's Enthusiasm, the Anglophone Church has tended to eschew excitement arising from piety.  One often hears this criticism about the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, especially from the perennially irascible Peter Kwasniewski.

Paul Murray OP has done well in explaining the role of joy in classical Dominicanism (The New Wine of Dominican Spirituality:  A Drink Called Happiness [New York:  Bloomsbury, 2006]) by a close reading of St Thomas Aquinas.  In fact, the expressions of religious fervour in St Dominic often stand in stark contrast with the seemingly passionless cerebralism of many of his contemporary children; Prof Dr Alan Schreck has suggested that contemporary stress on an 'unenthusiastic' religious praxis owes to Knox's influence (cf. "Enthusiasm Revisited," in Rebuild My Church [Cincinatti:  Servant Books, 2010], 141-180).

The key, I would suggest, is that an excited passion uninformed by reason (such as we see in the Appalachian variety of Pentecostalism) better serves Knox's critique, rather than a reason which excites the passions which ought to be the ideal of the ferviour we see among Catholic Charismatics.  But reasoning of what?  In a word, the Gospel which exceeds the desires which God has placed in the human heart.

It remains to be explored how Lk 10:21, "Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit" works within the framework of Christian anthropology.  My initial suggestion would be that since the passions of concupiscience and irascibility are rectified by the virtues of temperance and fortutide respectively, which in turn are perfected by the gifts of Fear of the Lord and Fortitude respectively, the Septenary does has a decisive role to play.  Since the gifts operate in a more unified way than do the virtues, the summit of the gifts--Wisdom--has much to do with authentic religious fervour, since it "considers the highest cause," which in tun inflames the other gifts with greater intensity, affecting also the passions.  It is clear, then, that with Wisdom, the passions are subordinated to reason, which is preoccupied with some Gospel truth as this gift is wont to do.

Mercy Versus Justice?

Like many--if not most--of Pope Francis' pastoral intiatives, the real thrust of what he was trying to accomplish seems to have been derailed by pastoral leaders on account of little or no formation in Thomistic theology:  I have in mind the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy (8 December 2015-8 December 2016).  As I often said to my confreres, many parishes and schools tended to treat it as the "Year of Excuses."

This basic confusion of "mercy" and "excuse," I am convinced, follows upon not properly relating mercy to justice--as if mercy somehow 'cancells' the obligation of justice (as if virtues were cancellable).

St James said it best:  "Mercy triumphs over justice"--superexaltat autem misericordia judicium (Jas 2:13).  At first glance, it may seem as though "mercy" somehow beats "justice" as in a contest.  But how does St Thomas Aquinas understand this Scripture?  The question is all the more pressing when we consider that 'justice' is a virtue which, by its very definition, is the very principle of a good act--how could 'cancelling' a principle of a good act be a good thing?

By way of a preface, St Thomas, following Aristotle and Ambrose, defines the virtue of justice as "a habit whereby a man renders to each one his due by a constant and perpetual will" (S.th., 2a 2ae, q. 58, art. 1, resp.).  As for mercy, the Angelic Doctor takes Augustine's definition, namely a "heartfelt sympathy for another's distress, impelling us to succor himif we can." (S.th., 2a 2ae, q. 30, art. 1, resp.).  What is significant is that while 'justice' is a cardinal virtue, 'mercy' is subordinated to the theological virtue of hope--so the relation of mercy to justice is that of a theological virtue to a cardinal one.

In S.th., 1a, q. 21, art. 3, obj. 2, St Thomas voices the (now-) common idea that "mercy is a relaxation of justice" (emphasis added).  He does rightly say that "God cannot remit waht appertains to his justice"--one may even read Anselm's Satisfaction Theory here.  In reply, St Thomas explains that "God acts mercifully, not indeed by going against His justice, but by doing something more than justice..." (emphasis added).  Our Friar Preacher then uses the example of a man owing another "one hundred pieces of money" but, instead, paying back two hundred.  "thus a man..does nothing against justice, but acts liberally or mercifully" (S.th., 1a. q. 21, art. 3, ad 2).

Using another example in the same response to the objection, St Thomas says that "The case is the same with one who pardons an offence committed against him, for in remitting it he may be said to bestow a gift."  He goes on to explain:  "Hence it is clear that mercy does not destroy justice, but in a sense is the fulness thereof."

Thus St Thomas Aquinas does not think that mercy 'overrides' justice but, rather, is its "fulness."  At first glance, this may be puzzling:  How is mercy a "fulness" of justice?  Simply:  By adding "goodness" to "that which is owed."  This is evident from the respondeo of the article:

Hence it follows that he endeavors to dispel the misery of this other, as if it were his; and this is the effect of mercy.  To sorrow, therefore, over th emisery of others belongs not to God; but it does most properly belong to Him to dispel that misery, whatever be the defec we call by that name [such as sin, or want].  Now defects are not removed, except by the perfection of some kind of goodness:  and the pimary source of goodness is God...  It must, however, be considered that to bestow perfections appertains not only to the divine goodness, but also to His justice, liberality, and mercy...  

In other words, if justice is to "give that which is owed to another," it is the nature of goodness to give abundantly more than which is "owed"--and this is the definition of mercy, and this is how mercy is "superexalted" over justice.  If only enthusiasts for Pope Francis would have taken the trouble to read precisely what His Holiness wrote--

Mercy is not opposed to justice but rather expresses God’s way of reaching out to the sinner, offering him a new chance to look at himself, convert, and believe.  ... This is why God goes beyond justice with his mercy and forgiveness. Yet this does not mean that justice should be devalued or rendered superfluous. On the contrary: anyone who makes a mistake must pay the price. However, this is just the beginning of conversion, not its end, because one begins to feel the tenderness and mercy of God. God does not deny justice. He rather envelopes it and surpasses it with an even greater event in which we experience love as the foundation of true justice (Misericordiae vultus, 21).

The point of the Year of Mercy, then, was not a wholesale "overlooking" on God's part of human faults; it was, rather, an invitation to rediscover how the gift of Jesus Christ was that very goodness of God exceeding the demands of justice laid upon us on account of our sins:  Not only the pardon of guilt, but also healing and the gift of new life.

That being said, to mistake "divine excusing" as "mercy" would be to to proffer a counterfeit to divine mercy and to profoundly misunderstand justice as virtue.