Glorious Knowledge
“Every cell in us worships God.”
Thomas Aquinas[1]
13th-century priest and scholar Thomas Aquinas, whose feast day is celebrated on Jan. 28 by the Episcopal Church, has been considered one of the Church’s greatest minds by most throughout history. He had an excellent education, being sent by his noble family at the age of five to an influential center of learning in Italy, the Benedictine Abbey of Monte Cassino. From there, he moved his studies to Naples and then later the University of Paris, where he would study and then teach. His brilliant mind took on Western Europe’s fascination with the recovery of the work of the ancient Greek philosopher, Aristotle, convincing scholars and theologians of the era that the philosopher was not a challenge to the Christian faith, but instead provided “illustrations” of our faith’s truths. This is seen at its fullest in Aquinas’ magnum opus, the Summa Theologiae, or Sum Total of Theology.[2]
I am not a philosopher. Moreover, I am very grateful that my systematic theology professor in seminary dumbed down all of the major theological doctrines so that my puny mind could gain some basic level of insight for most of them! Yet, I have long admired Aquinas’ mind, thought and willingness to engage the questions of his day. He was able to see the imprint of God in everything. Too often, our faith has separated itself from the wider culture; Aquinas demonstrates best that old adage, “Be in the world, and not of the world.” After all, Jesus sent us into the world to share the good news!
Thomas Aquinas was a man of deep prayer, although that is often overlooked. Being formed by the Benedictines from childhood, it is likely he kept their ideals of balancing work and prayer throughout his life. And that prayer formed his theological work when he urged his fellow scholars to put limits on reason for there is always much that is unknowable, unattainable, about God.
Aquinas was celebrating mass toward the end of his life, and it was reported that he had an apparent encounter with God right there at the altar. Afterward, he said, “I can no longer write, for God has given me such glorious knowledge that all contained in my works are as straw—barely fit to absorb the holy wonders that fall in a stable.” He never wrote anything after that, dying three months later.[3]
[1] Daniel Ladinsky, Love Poems from God, “Thomas Aquinas” (New York: Penguin Putman, Inc., 2002), 128.
[2] Diarmaid MacCulloch, Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years (New York: Penguin Group USA Inc., 2009), 412-415.
[3] Ladinsky, 122.
