Der Begriff der Natur (φύ σις) ist für unsere abendländische Geistesgeschichte zum ersten Mal bei Homer belegt und bedeutet soviel wie äußere Beschaffenheit (als Folge des Wachstums), pflanzliches Wachsen, Wachstum. Später entwickelt sich eine kausal-mechanische Naturbetrachtung im Sinne der ausnahmslosen Geltung der Naturgesetze und eine teleologische im Sinne des planmäß igen Waltens der Natur. Über die Naturwissenschaft hinaus wird der Naturbegriff (φύ σις) zu einem Element der geistigen Ordnung des gesamten Seins; er kann vom Pflanzlichen auf alles, was unabhängig vom Menschen entsteht, übertragen werden. In ihm fanden die Griechen zuerst die Antwort auf die Frage nach dem Ursprung der Dinge im Sinne des zeitlichen Beginns, und dann die Antwort auf die Frage nach dem Wesen der Dinge, wobei der Blick auf die Einheit der Dinge in der Welt gerichtet wurde. In der Wissenschaft ersetzte der Begriff der Natur den Begriff der Entstehung (γέ νε σις) und eröffnete den Zugang zur Welt und ihrem Wesen. Parallel dazu hat auch das Göttliche seine anthropomorphen Züge verloren und ist zum Inbegriff des Vollkommenen geworden. In der Medizin bekommt die Natur die Bedeutung von zielgerichteter Norm und ist ein Vorbild für die Praxis. In ihr wird das Sein in seiner allgemeinen natürlichen Ordnung ausgesprochen, da die Natur allgemein und allumfassend ist, wobei sie doch auch das Individuelle und Organische umfaßt. Daher nähert sich der Begriff der Natur dem des Logos (λό γος): sie ist das allein durch die Ratio faßbare Wesen. In der Stoa bekommt sie die Bedeutung der Vorsehung (πρ όν οια). Sie ist zugleich die innere Bewegung der platonisch-aristotelisch aufgefaßten Realität, schafft also den Übergang zur Vision des Seins und des Menschen und ist, insgesamt gesehen, das “Herz” der anfänglichen griechischen Auffassung der Realität.

In Etymologies 8.9, Isidore presents a detailed classification of the diverse group of ritual experts he calls magi. Well organized, erudite, flexible enough to include a wide range of specialists, and, as its record of influence demonstrates, enormously useful as a template for later medieval classifications, the “De Magis” offers what can rightly be called the first definitive western Christian taxonomy of unauthorized practitioners. Although Isidore relied heavily on a wide range of pagan and Christian sources for the contents of the chapter, their selection, revision, and arrangement—the elements of his taxonomy—were all his own.

Many of the surviving texts associated with seventh-century Ireland deal with eschatology. In general, these texts convey assumptions on the fate of the soul after death that are consistent with the traditional Christian view in late antiquity in the West, namely, that the ultimate destiny of most Christians will not be determined till the great universal judgment at the end of time. To illustrate this point I will adduce the theological treatise Liber de ordine creaturarum and the moral treatise De XII abusiuis saeculi, as well as religious poetry and hagiographical works, and set them in their likely liturgical context. In contrast, the Vision of Fursey and Adomnán's Life of Columba stand out as revealing the strong influence of concepts originating in the early Christian ascetic circles of Egypt. Irish Christians were thus also exposed to the idea that the fate of all individual souls will be determined immediately after death. Awareness and even endorsement of this point of view will have prepared the way toward accepting the novel teaching that a finite period of painful purification immediately follows the death of most Christians. The survival of these two texts demonstrating the presence in seventh-century Ireland of the belief that the final determination of an individual's fate occurs at the time of death draws attention to the radical change in perspective that must have been an essential initial step in the very formulation of the doctrine of purgatory.

The twentieth century witnessed an efflorescence of interest in medieval exegesis, sparked by scholars across a wide spectrum of intellectual, methodological, and confessional commitments. Thanks in large measure to the work of Beryl Smalley (1905–1984) and Henri de Lubac (1896–1991), to name only two major exponents, the modern study of medieval exegesis achieved a depth and significance that fittingly complements the attention earlier generations had paid to scholastic theology.

Pondering the narrative of creation given in Genesis in his De sacramentis Christianae fidei, Hugh of St. Victor (d. 1142) raises the question of whether creation was instantaneous or required a literal six days. Hugh opts for the latter. Though instantaneous creation was of course possible, he argues that God created in six days, proceeding gradually through increasing degrees of form and beauty, so that the rational creature “might discern how great was the difference between esse and pulchrum esse,” between “being” and “beautiful being.” God's intention, Hugh declares, was that rational creatures would be “warned not to be content with having received being [esse] from the Creator,” but would strive for “beautiful being” (pulchrum esse). The primary task of the human being in Eden, therefore, was twofold: first, a discernment, an exegesis that rightly interpreted the pulchrum esse of creation to be a manifestation of divine Beauty; second, a realization of pulchrum esse within itself. In large measure, for Hugh, the ensuing Fall entailed a failure to fulfill this original exegetical and ethical calling.

Although William of Auvergne, bishop of Paris from 1228 to his death in 1249, criticized Avicenna severely, he also adopted many philosophical positions of Avicenna. In a recently published article, I emphasized William's considerable debt to the philosophy of Avicenna, and in a still-to-be-published article I pointed out how William was indebted to Avicenna for his view of what it is to be a human being, and especially for his view of the spirituality of the human soul. For much of his lengthy work, De anima, William follows Avicenna's philosophy as he found it in the great Islamic thinker's Liber de anima, seu sextus de naturalibus; not, of course, without serious criticism on many points. In chapter 5, however, of his De anima, William rather abruptly introduces a historical concept of human nature, which is closer to that of Augustine than of Avicenna or Aristotle, in place of the philosophical concept of human nature, which he derived largely from Avicenna, whom he often confused with the real Aristotle. In introducing such a historical concept of human nature or of the nature of the human soul, William raises several rather intriguing problems, which I want to discuss in this paper. First, he raises a question about how the various historical states of human nature are to be conceived and how they are to be combined with the philosophical concept of nature that he derives from Avicenna. Second, he raises a question about how he can, while claiming to proceed exclusively by means of philosophical proofs, introduce such topics as the original state in which Adam and Eve were created, the original sin by which they fell and which they passed on to the rest of the human race, and Christian baptism by which the harm stemming from their sin can be undone. Finally, William speaks about the soul's state of natural happiness as opposed to the state of glory, and though his treatment of these states is rather brief, it raises a further question about how William envisaged these states and their relationship to each other. Hence, the paper will have three parts: the first on the present and past states of human nature of which William speaks and on their relationship to the philosophical concept of human nature, the second on how William introduces into what he claimed was strictly philosophical such apparently theological topics, and the third on how William understands the relation between the soul's state of natural happiness and the state of glory.

In what ways can two different things be alike? One way, which is perhaps the easiest to explain, involves the sharing of a common nature, or tertium quid, such that two different things are the same in a certain respect. For example, Socrates and Plato are alike in being human, cats and dogs are alike in being animals, and swans and snow are alike in being white. Scholastic theologians believed that no creature could be like God in this way, whether in this life or in the next. In a strict sense, in their view, God and creatures have nothing in common, for God has no accidental qualities to share and does not belong to any genus.

Historians of philosophy have often discussed Aquinas's view of human knowledge as it appears in the first part of the Summa theologiae. They have observed that he represents a more philosophical view than the Augustinian account of divine illumination. Yet little attention has been paid to the relation between this discussion of human knowledge and the account of Christ's knowledge in the third part of the Summa theologiae. One reason for this neglect is that scholarship is often practiced within the spheres of intellectual inquiry that were framed during the modern period. We ignore issues present in primary texts in order to construct proof texts that respond to present-day philosophical interests. In pursuit of questions having to do with epistemology, logic, metaphysics, and ethics, rarely do historians or philosophers attempt to unravel the historical and theological context of specific texts. In regard to human knowledge, rarely do we read beyond questions 84 through 86 on the human knowledge of material objects, and even more rarely do we consider what Aquinas has to say about the knowledge of Christ. Rather, we treat questions on the human knowledge of material things as if they concerned issues raised today in epistemology or philosophy of mind.

My aim in this paper is to study the relationship between love and pleasure as understood by the Franciscan masters Peter Aureol, William of Ockham, Walter Chatton, and Adam Wodeham. These masters have treated this relationship in their commentaries on Peter Lombard's Sentences, book 1, distinction 1. The standard subject matter of the first distinction of scholastic Sentences commentaries was the nature of beatific enjoyment (fruitio beatifica). The comparative study of these texts is important, because it sheds some light on the history of fourteenth-century scholastic philosophy of human psychology in general, and on the contribution of Franciscan writers to the philosophical and theological analysis of volition and emotions in particular.