Scholastics

John Scotus

John Scotus (or, in Latin, Johannes Scotus), often referred to by the epithet Eriugena, is perhaps the most remarkable figure of the ninth century; had he lived in the fifth or even the fifteenth century, he would have astounded us less. John Scotus was an Irishman, a Neoplatonist, a brilliant connoisseur of the Greek language, a Pelagian, and a pantheist. He spent a significant portion of his life under the patronage of Charles the Bald, King of France, and although he did not adhere to orthodox views, he managed, as far as we know, to avoid persecution. He placed reason above faith and regarded the authority of clerics as inconsequential; nevertheless, they themselves turned to his esteemed opinion to resolve their disputes.

To understand the emergence of such a person, we must first direct our attention to the development of Irish culture in the centuries following the death of St. Patrick. Aside from the exceedingly vexing fact that St. Patrick was an Englishman, we must note two other circumstances that are hardly less aggravating: first, that Christians existed in Ireland long before St. Patrick's arrival; second, that whatever he may have accomplished for Irish Christianity, Irish culture owed him nothing. When Gaul, as recounted by a Gallic writer, fell victim to the invasions of barbarians, first Attila and subsequently the Goths, Vandals, and Alaric, “all learned men on this side of the sea fled, seeking refuge in the lands beyond the sea, particularly in Ireland, where they brought immense advancements in the sciences to the inhabitants.” If any of these scholars sought sanctuary in England, they were met with inevitable death at the hands of the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes; those who fled to Ireland, however, succeeded in conveying a substantial part of the knowledge and civilization that had vanished from the continent in collaboration with the missionaries. There are compelling reasons to believe that throughout the sixth, seventh, and eighth centuries, the Irish retained knowledge of the Greek language and had a solid acquaintance with Latin classics.

In England, Greek was known since the time of Theodore, the Archbishop of Canterbury (669—690), who was himself a Greek and educated in Athens; in the north, knowledge of Greek could also have been acquired through Irish missionaries. “By the end of the seventh century,” states Montague James, “Ireland was a land that surpassed all others in its thirst for knowledge, with teaching flourishing abundantly. Latin (and to a lesser extent Greek) was studied from a scholarly perspective… And when, first driven by the fanaticism of the missionaries and later by the unsettling conditions at home, they [the scholarly refugees] surged in crowds onto the continent, they played a significant role in preserving the remnants of literature that they had come to value.” Geiriсk of Oxerre describes around 876 the influx of Irish scholars as follows: “Ireland, disregarding the perils of the sea, sends forth en masse a great multitude of philosophers to our shores, and all pillars of scholarship subject themselves to voluntary exile for the grace of the wise Solomon,” that is, King Charles the Bald.

Forced wandering has been the fate of scholars in many epochs. In the early period of Greek philosophy, many philosophers were fugitives from Persia; in its latter period, they became refugees in Persia. In the fifth century, as we have just seen, scholars fled from Gaul to the islands west of Scotland to escape the Germans. In the ninth century, they fled from England and Ireland back to escape the Scandinavians. In our day, German philosophers are compelled to flee even further west to escape their own countrymen. And who knows how long it will take before they flee in the opposite direction.

We have scant information about the Irish during the time they preserved for Europe the tradition of classical culture. This knowledge was tied to monasteries and thoroughly infused with piety, as evidenced by the penances of the Irish; however, it is unlikely that it was particularly absorbed in theological subtleties. Centered primarily around monasteries rather than episcopal palaces, this knowledge was free from the administrative spirit that has always characterized the clergy of the continent since Gregory the Great. And as the effective ties of this knowledge with Rome were largely severed, it retained the perspective on the papacy that existed during the time of St. Ambrose, rather than the one that solidified later. Some believe that Pelagius was Irish (although he was most likely a Briton). It is entirely possible that his heresy survived in Ireland, where authorities could not eradicate it as they managed, albeit with difficulty, in Gaul. These circumstances partly explain the extraordinary freedom and freshness that characterize the theoretical views of John Scotus.

The beginning and end of John Scotus's life remain unknown; we have information only about the middle period when he served the French king. It is generally believed that John Scotus was born around 800 and died around 877, but both dates are purely speculative. His time in France coincided with the papacy of Nicholas I, and in the biography of John Scotus, we again encounter the figures associated with this pope: Charles the Bald, Emperor Michael, and the pope himself.

John was invited to France by Charles the Bald around 843 and was appointed head of the court school. A dispute arose between the monk Gottschalk and the prominent dignitary Archbishop Hincmar of Reims regarding predestination and free will. The monk was an advocate of predestination, while the archbishop supported free will. John sided with the archbishop in the treatise “On Divine Predestination,” but in his support, he went beyond the bounds of prudence. The topic was delicate; Augustine had addressed it in his writings against Pelagius; yet it was dangerous to agree with Augustine and even more perilous to openly oppose him. John defended the principle of free will, which might have gone unpunished, but the purely philosophical nature of his arguments provoked outrage. This does not imply that John openly opposed anything established in theology; rather, he asserted that philosophy is an equal or even superior authority, independent of revelation. John insisted that reason and revelation are two sources of truth and, therefore, cannot contradict one another; yet if they occasionally appear to be in conflict, reason should be given preference. True religion, declares John, is also true philosophy; and conversely—true philosophy is true religion. John’s work was condemned twice by church councils, in 855 and 859; the first deemed it “the nonsense of Scotus.”

However, John Scotus escaped punishment thanks to the king’s support, with whom he evidently shared a friendly rapport. If we are to believe the account of William of Malmesbury, on one occasion, while dining with the king, John was asked: “What separates Scotus from the cattle?” to which John replied, “Only the width of the dining table.” In 877, the king died, and after this date, nothing is known of John. Some believe he also died that year. Legends suggest that Alfred the Great invited him to England, that he became the abbot of Malmesbury or Athelney, and that he was killed by monks. However, it seems that this misfortune befell another John.

John's subsequent work was a translation from the Greek of Pseudo-Dionysius. This work enjoyed immense acclaim during the early Middle Ages. When St. Paul preached in Athens, “some men joined and believed; among them was Dionysius the Areopagite” (Acts 17:34). This is all that is known of this man today, but in the Middle Ages, he was far better known. He traveled to France and founded the Abbey of Saint-Denis; at least, this is what Hildouin, who was its abbot just before John’s arrival in France, asserted. Additionally, authorship of an important work was attributed to Dionysius, aimed at reconciling Neoplatonism with Christianity. The date of writing of this work is unknown; it was certainly before the fifth century and after Plotinus. It was well known and esteemed in the East, but only a few were aware of it in the West until the Greek Emperor Michael sent a copy of this work to Louis the Pious in 827, who passed it on to the aforementioned abbot Hildouin. Hildouin, believing that it was indeed written by a disciple of St. Paul—the fictitious founder of the abbey—was burning with curiosity to know its contents, but no one could translate it from Greek until John appeared. And John performed the translation, which must have brought him true joy, as his own views were found to be very close to those of Pseudo-Dionysius; from this time onward, the latter exerted significant influence on the development of Catholic philosophy in the West.

In the year 860, John’s translation was sent to Pope Nicholas. The Pope was enraged that the work had been published without prior permission and commanded Charles to send John to Rome—a command that went unheeded. As for the content, particularly the scholarly depth displayed in the translation, the Pope found nothing to critique. His librarian, Anastasius, a brilliant expert in the Greek language, to whom the Pope entrusted John's translation for review, was astonished that a man from a distant and barbarous land could possess such profound knowledge of Greek.

John's most significant work was titled (in Greek) "On the Division of Nature." This book represents what would have been classified as "realism" during the scholastic era, asserting, in accordance with Platonic doctrine, that universals exist prior to particular things. In his concept of "nature," John encompasses not only what exists but also what does not exist. All nature is divided into four kinds: 1) creating but uncreated, 2) creating and simultaneously created, 3) created but not creating, 4) neither creating nor created. The first nature is clearly God. The second nature comprises (Platonic) ideas that exist in God. The third nature consists of things that exist in space and time. The fourth nature unexpectedly returns to God, but not as creator; rather, as the end and goal of all things. Everything that owes its existence to God strives to return to Him; thus, the end of all things coincides with their beginning. The connecting link between the one and the many is the Logos.

In the realm of non-being, John includes various entities, such as physical objects that do not belong to the intelligible world and sin, which signifies the loss of the divine image. Truly, only the creating but uncreated nature exists; it is the essence of all things. God is the beginning, middle, and end of things. God's essence is unknowable to both humans and even angels. In a certain sense, God is unknowable even to Himself: "God does not know of Himself that He is, as He is not something; in a certain respect, He is incomprehensible neither to Himself nor to anyone's reason." Yet the being of God can be discerned from the being of things; His wisdom can be seen in their order; His life is revealed through their motion. His being is the Father, His wisdom is the Son, and His life is the Holy Spirit. However, Dionysius is right in asserting that no definitions can be applied to God. There exists a positive theology in which He is defined by categories of truth, goodness, existence, and so forth; yet such definitions are true only as symbols, for all these predicates have opposite meanings representing their negation, while God possesses no opposing meaning representing His negation.

The category of things that create and are simultaneously created encompasses all first causes, or archetypes, or Platonic ideas. The totality of these first causes constitutes the Logos. The world of ideas is eternal, yet still created. Under the influence of the Holy Spirit, these first causes give rise to the world of individual things, whose materiality is illusory. When it is said that God created things from "nothing," this "nothing" must be understood as God Himself—in the sense that He is transcendent to all understanding.

The process of creation is eternal: the substance of all finite things is God. Creation is not a thing distinct from God. Creation exists in God, and God manifests Himself in creation in an ineffable manner. "The Holy Trinity loves itself in us, and in itself, it sees and moves itself."

John diverges from the Aristotelians, rejecting the real existence of individual things. He calls Plato the pillar of philosophers. Nonetheless, the first three of his modes of being are indirectly derived from Aristotle's categories of unmoved mover, moved and moving, and movable but not moved. The fourth mode of being in John's system—neither creating nor created—is drawn from Dionysius' teaching on the return of all things to God.

From the brief summary presented, the unorthodox nature of John Scotus’ views becomes clear. His pantheism, which denies the substantial reality of creations having their own foundation, contradicts Christian doctrine. No prudent theologian could accept John’s interpretation of the process of creation from "nothing." In his conception of the Trinity, which bears a strong resemblance to Plotinus' understanding, the three hypostases appear unequal, although John strives to shield himself from criticism on this matter. All these heretical views testify to a remarkable independence of thought in the ninth century. It is possible that the Neoplatonist character of John's teachings was a common phenomenon in Ireland, as it was among the Greek Church Fathers of the fourth and fifth centuries. Perhaps, had we more complete information about the development of Irish Christianity from the fifth to the ninth century, John would not seem such an astonishing phenomenon. On the other hand, it may be that much of the heretical elements in John's views should be attributed to the influence of Pseudo-Dionysius, who, due to his supposed connection with St. Paul, was mistakenly regarded as an orthodox thinker.

John's perspective on creation as a process without a beginning in time is indeed heretical—one that compels him to assert that the history of creation narrated in the Book of Genesis is allegorical. Paradise and the Fall of man cannot be understood in a literal sense. Like all pantheists, John grapples with difficulties regarding sin. He claims that initially, man was unaware of sin, and when he was unaware of sin, there was no division of the sexes. This, of course, contradicts the text: "He created them male and female." According to John, sin was the sole reason for the division of human beings into men and women. The woman embodies the sensual and fallen nature of humanity. Ultimately, the distinction of sexes will vanish again, and we shall possess purely spiritual bodies. Sin consists in the malice of will, in the false attribution of goodness to what is not good. Sin is punished naturally; this punishment lies in the exposure of the vanity of sinful desires. However, the punishment of sin is not eternal. Like Origen, John asserts that ultimately even devils will be saved, albeit later than other humans.

The translation of Pseudo-Dionysius, carried out by John, greatly influenced the development of medieval thought; in contrast, his magnum opus on the division of nature had a minimal impact. This work was repeatedly condemned as heretical, and ultimately, in 1225, Pope Honorius III ordered all copies to be burned. Fortunately, this order was not executed with due diligence.