Patristics and Scholasticism

How This Philosophy Becomes the Art of Truth and the Art of Salvation

The principal concern of patristics, both Eastern and Western, was the intellectual grasp of reality, more precisely, the mind's capacity to transition from the sensory to the intelligible. The array of synonyms in this context is notably extensive: mental, verbal, intellectual, incorporeal—each mode of sensation and understanding, thought or feeling, corresponds to its own synonym for that which can be comprehended solely through intellectual contemplation of reality. Once again, the state of the object precedes its mere usage: "vision" and "theory" are not merely conditions or actions of knowledge acquisition, but refer to the visible itself, the unfolding of events that suddenly come into view. Likewise, this understanding of vision is echoed by George Scholarius, the first Byzantine patriarch during the Turkish occupation:
"The third heaven to which the blessed Paul was transported is the third mode of vision. The first vision derives from the images of God, that is, from His creations, as Paul himself asserts, that ’the invisible attributes of God are clearly seen through the things that are made.’ The second vision is intellectual and natural, wherein the mind separates itself from the perception of the world and what pertains to it, along with the passions of the body, and is wholly immersed in contemplation of divine and eternal matters, in the archetypes of faith and the laws of God. Thus, it is enlightened by divine light, and some individuals foresee the future, as did the prophets. The third vision is intellectual and transcends nature, wherein the mind, by the will of God, ascends to the revelation of the most divine and heavenly truths, which will be disclosed in the coming day (i.e., the life of the world to come) to those deemed worthy, and ’they will be seen not in faith but in knowledge and understanding.’"
It is not difficult to discern in these three points of vision a particular method of transitioning to the intelligible, not as an intellectual schema, but as a unique existential grounding for relations with being itself. This same question of the three heavens was explored by Marsilio Ficino during the Italian Renaissance.

The shift from a mode of perceiving things to a mode of the existence of the things themselves, often manifested in the language of ecclesiastical hymns—where, for instance, "perception" refers to the "perceived"—proved crucial for the development of theology in the Byzantine world. If the term "dogma," denoting doctrine, is taken to signify not only the foundational systematization of theology but also all that is learned and memorized, then theology becomes not only the conclusions drawn from a system but also the ability to swiftly and improvisationally construct a system from existing knowledge. Such improvisation was highly valued in theological disputes, as it demonstrated both inspiration and a readiness to receive revelation and grace directly, rather than constructing forced frameworks based on arbitrary sources.

As contemporary Greek philosopher and theologian Christos Yannaras observes:
"In the Eastern Christian theological tradition, the question of knowing God (as well as man and the world) is not posed as a demand for intellectually objectified definitions, and thus is not exhausted by the coincidence of consciousness with the intelligible object. This question is always a vital ethical summons to ascend toward a truth that transcends the nature of personal existence. The logical encapsulation of truth is merely a garb, a veil, a protective covering provided by truth for the limits of our knowledge."
Yannaras accurately delineates the method of patristics:
"Here, language functions both figuratively and logically, for the very logic of this language abolishes the autonomous use of concepts."

For instance, God is simultaneously intelligible and incomprehensible; knowledge of God is both trustworthy and devoid of guarantees, and any concept of God may be contested not by meaning but by the very structure of the opposing concept. Patristics challenges other Christian teachings, "heresies," precisely as attempts to conceive of Christ as either overly divine or overly human, or as something that arbitrarily combines God and man, thereby offending the central focus of patristics—grace, which questions the very familiar concepts, for the gracious gift will never become entirely habitual. As Yannaras continues:
"The overcoming of the conditionality of our words occurs primarily in the use of opposing yet equally sanctioned concepts, so that these contradictions in language do not become contradictions in our reasoning itself. In the texts of many Church Fathers, concepts often mutually annihilate each other while simultaneously altering their meanings to the opposite, so that their transcendence becomes possible, enabling one to overcome the reification of meanings induced by our habits, thus allowing a person to participate in the expression of truth as vital to their existence, so that not only truth itself becomes important but also its expression."

The discourse of Eastern patristics, as well as that of the West, particularly in the person of Augustine, is profoundly figurative. Contemporary French philosopher François Fédier aptly describes this figurative nature, seeing in patristics a direct precursor to phenomenology:
"The only thing we can do is allow the image to manifest itself in its fullest significance... We are not attempting to ’imagine the image’ here. We strive to conceive of iconicity. The initiation of vision and, in some sense, conversation is intensely related to the movement we anticipate within iconicity. Therefore, discourse here can only be a digression."

It is noteworthy that in Eastern Christianity, philosophical content frequently resided not in treatises but in ecclesiastical hymns, canons, and akathists. Such hymnography constitutes a schedule for the day, thoughtfully conceived by its creators and performers as a series of spiritual gestures: the execution of grand poetic forms is woven into the daily liturgical rhythm, consuming a significant portion of the day. This meditative practice of regular poetic performance had previously only been observed in Greek tragedy, whose presentations occupied an entire workday. However, these forms also demand excellent memory; each period, each reflective phrase, comprises a distinct chant within this framework—troparion, kontakion, or ikos—such that mere auditory perception implies attention skills that are unnecessary for practical speech but essential for philosophical discourse. At the level of composition, we discern both a strict plan and the development of a narrative consisting of comparisons, images, and allusions to biblical texts, further aligning the performance of such works with memorization. Yet most importantly, these texts typically portray not a series of images, as in ancient hymns or those of the early Byzantine poet Romanos the Melodist, but a sequence of actions, for ultimately these texts convey ideas of action, from the creation of the world by God to salvation.

The first philosophical textbook of scholasticism was Peter Lombard's "Sentences." Peter Lombard (circa 1100—1160), taking John of Damascus's "Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith" as his foundation, crafted a work outlining church teachings, not merely as a series of propositions or "sentences," but with indications on how to refute opposing viewpoints. This textbook subsequently accumulated commentaries, detailing even more comprehensively the possible positions of opponents and what should be articulated in each case.

Thomas Aquinas taught that God is not only the creator of things but the creator of free will; thus, free will can act for good without sacrificing its freedom in such action. A person comes to know not only God, as the ultimate aim but also the purposes of created things, thereby grasping how to employ their faculties for the good. It is no coincidence that the birth of Thomas Aquinas, the future official theologian of the Dominican Order, almost coincided with the death of Francis of Assisi, a reformer of Catholic spirituality, for whom both mercilessness and distrust in oneself, along with mercy and trust in all creation, forged a new understanding of Christian tasks. Prior to Francis, asceticism encompassed plenty of mercy, yet lacked this mature balance of trust and distrust, embodying a certain adolescent maximalism while simultaneously reflecting the generous wisdom of old age. This is why, after Francis, rich altars adorned with numerous scenes began to emerge alongside his Christmas nativity scene: love for God now necessitated trust in events, a recognition that these events could occur even now, rather than merely considering what they teach. Similarly, Thomas explored how a thing desires to exist because it trusts in God's benevolence toward it, and how a person strives to know God, for only in God do essence and existence coincide. The youthful enthusiasm and the elder's attentiveness to primary causes, without which other causes are not causes at all—this encapsulates the thought style of Thomas Aquinas. Following the grand style of scholasticism came the magnificent style of the Renaissance, which, in some respects, contested scholasticism while also reinforcing it.