Medieval Theories of Divine Ideas (ca. 1250–1325)

I. Introduction

The topic of divine ideas arises for medieval philosophers and theologians because of the need to explain how God can know and produce creatures. Sacred Scripture makes it clear that God has intimate knowledge of all creatures and all their own actions, even our most intimate and unspoken thoughts (see, e.g., Psalm 139). But how could this be? The question is especially urgent since philosophers have made serious errors. Plato (d. 347 BC) posits that the demiurge knows and fashions finite beings, but he has to learn about creatures by looking to the Forms, and he creates only some finite beings and leaves the rest of the universe to those beings (see Plato, Timaeus, 27C–41D). Aristotle (d. 322 BC) corrects Plato’s error that God’s knowledge is acquired, but on his account of divine knowledge, God knows only himself; he knows nothing of creatures, and he does not create any beings (Aristotle, Metaphysics XII, c. 9). Avicenna (d. 1037) insists that God knows finite being and produces creation. But on his account, God knows being only in general (and so does not know the many differences and aspects of creation distinctly) and produces only the highest creature, leaving the rest of creation to flow from that being (Avicenna, Metaphysics VIII, c. 6, and IX). Averroes (d. 1198) establishes the excellent principle that nothing ignoble ought to be said of God’s knowledge and so insists that God’s knowledge is always actual and perfect. Yet, he argues that God cannot know individuals and their actions because individuals are always in principle infinite, which renders them incomprehensible even by God (Averroes, Commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics XII, comment 51).

Given this situation, medieval philosophers and theologians had the daunting task of articulating a theory of God’s knowledge of creatures that upholds God’s perfection and his simplicity. A theory is acceptable only if it affirms that God’s knowledge has no external source, extends to every detail of every creature made in history, and can account for the creatures that God could have made but chose not to make. Moreover, the fact that God knows many creatures (both actual and merely possible) must be preserved despite the fact that he has but numerically one act of knowing. And the multitude of creatures (actual and merely possible) must be robust enough as a multitude that we can posit that he legitimately knows it, yet not so robust that the multitude conflicts with his unity or Trinity.

From these brief statements of the circumstances giving rise to certain theories of divine ideas, it is clear that this subject engages a great number of central philosophical topics: God, knowledge, exemplarity, relation, simplicity and distinction, infinity, possibility, and participation. To address the topic as fully as it demands, authors discuss both the status and scope of divine ideas. The status of divine ideas refers to logical and metaphysical questions such as what an idea is, whether there are divine ideas, how many there are, and what the status of non-existing possible creatures is. The scope of divine ideas concerns that of which there are ideas: Does God have divine ideas of singulars, species, and genera, or does it suffice that he have an idea of one or two of these? Are there ideas of privations or incomplete beings, like evil or prime matter?

There are three primary theories of divine ideas in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, which I call the Imitability Theory, the Creatura Intellecta Theory, and the Nominalist Theory.{1} The Imitability Theory was endorsed by authors like St. Bonaventure (d. 1274), St. Thomas Aquinas (d. 1274), and Henry of Ghent (d. 1293). It argues that divine ideas are the relations that God knows possible creatures could bear to him and do bear to him if they actually exist. God has this knowledge because in divine truth’s supreme expression, God knows all the ways the divine essence could be imitated. The Creatura Intellecta Theory of divine ideas was endorsed by authors like Bl. John Duns Scotus (d. 1308). Although he agrees with Imitability Theorists that divine ideas are known relations of imitability, he objects that God could not know possible creatures by means of these relations. The knowledge of the possible creature is logically prior to knowledge of the relation. The Nominalist Theory of divine ideas is held by authors like Peter Auriol (d. 1322) and William of Ockham (d. 1347). They insist that divine ideas are connotations, not relations. These authors shift from the metaphysical terminology of relation to the grammatical and logical terminology of connotation because they are concerned that the metaphysical terminology is contrary to divine simplicity.

In what follows, I will treat the systematic questions about divine ideas according to each of the three theories. Proceeding in this way will allow for the similarities and differences of the theories to be on full display. Readers interested in delving into the arguments in greater detail are encouraged to consult the works cited in the notes and bibliography.

II. The Status of Divine Ideas

The Nature and Multiplicity of Ideas

The Imitability Theory

Imitability Theorists offer various definitions of an idea. St. Bonaventure calls divine ideas “exemplative likenesses” (Bonaventure, De scientia Christi, q. 2).{2} St. Thomas argues that “an idea is a form that something imitates from the intention of an agent who predetermines the end for himself” (Aquinas, De veritate [henceforth De verit.], q. 3, a. 1).{3} Henry of Ghent offers a similar definition: “an idea, in its formal definition [ratio], is nothing other than a relation of imitability [resulting] from a consideration of the [divine] intellect on the divine essence itself”{4} (Henry of Ghent, Quodlibet IX, q. 2).{5}

From these definitions, we can derive two roles for a divine idea: a cognitive role, by which God can be said to know (possible) creatures, and a causal role, by which God can be said to create creatures. For the cognitive role, each definition emphasizes that divine ideas are likenesses that exemplify the creatures themselves and, to put it the other way, that the creatures imitate the ideas. Since the divine ideas are likenesses, they are not the creatures themselves. As Gregory T. Doolan says, speaking of Aquinas’s theory, “The divine Idea that God has of me is not me” (Doolan, “Aquinas on the Divine Ideas and the Really Real,” 1086; emphasis original). The divine ideas cannot be the true essences or quiddities of the things, because then a creature would not be other than God, which amounts to pantheism or panentheism (Bonaventure, De scientia Christi, q. 2). Instead, these divine ideas are the expressions of divine truth (in Bonaventure’s terminology) or the ways God knows his essence to be imitable (in Thomas’s and Henry’s terminology).

Divine ideas, then, are God’s intellectual means of knowing creatures (rationes cognoscendi) (Bonaventure, De scientia Christi, q. 2).{6} But there are two main types of cognition: speculative and practical. Speculative cognition is cognition for the sake of the truth, and practical cognition is cognition for the sake of action. St. Thomas argues that these two main types result in three total, since knowledge can be purely speculative, purely practical, or partially speculative and partially practical. Knowledge is called speculative (1) when the things known could not be made by the knower (like natural things in relation to us), (2) when the thing is known according to a speculative mode (as when the builder knows a universal, like house), and (3) when the knowledge is ordered to the truth only, not to production (as when a builder considers an individual house but has no intention to make it). Speculative knowledge of the first kind is purely speculative. The second and third sorts of speculative knowledge are partially speculative and partially practical. And knowledge that the knower orders to the end of operation (that is, actually building the house) is purely practical (Aquinas, Summa theologiae [henceforth ST] I, q. 14, a. 16).

Given this division of knowledge, St. Thomas argues that God has ideas of both his purely practical knowledge and his partially speculative and partially practical knowledge. The ideas of the purely practical knowledge are those ideas in imitation of which God knows he has willed to make at some time in history; St. Thomas calls these ideas “exemplars.” The ideas of the partially speculative and partially practical knowledge are the ideas according to which God knows he has not willed to make at all, and St. Thomas calls these ideas “reasons” (rationes) (ST I, q. 15, a. 3).{7}

Henry of Ghent is wary of saying that divine ideas are practical, especially because Henry writes after the condemnations of 1270, in which the bishop of Paris (Stephen Tempier) condemned the claim that the will wills or chooses out of necessity. If some divine ideas include cognition that God will create according to that idea, then God’s act of creation seems coerced. The divine will would not be free to will or not will, because the divine intellect would have already determined that a creature would imitate this idea, but no creature would imitate that idea. This difficulty is made worse for Henry because, like Bonaventure before him, he thinks that the divine intellect is a purely natural power, that is, God necessarily knows everything that he knows (Henry of Ghent, Summa, a. 5, ad 2; Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 27, p. 2, a. un., q. 2, ad 2).{8} So, if a divine idea included to-be-made or not-to-be-made, creation of these and only these “to-be-made” beings would be necessary for God, not a free act. So, God’s intellect must be speculative and determine nothing of what is to be created or not created (Henry, Summa, a. 36, q. 4). It follows that divine ideas are speculative as well. Henry insists that no divine intention or will to create according to this idea and not that idea could change this fact. They are speculative or practical because of the end of the knowledge itself, not because of the end of the knower. Just as mathematics is a purely speculative inquiry, and no one’s intention to put mathematical knowledge to practical use can change that, so too God’s intention and will to create does not change the speculative nature of a divine idea (Henry, Summa, a. 36, q. 4, ad 2).{9}

Divine ideas also perform a causal role insofar as they are the exemplars in imitation of which God creates.{10} Although Bonaventure, Thomas, and Henry all endorse this causal role for divine ideas, Thomas alone gives it priority. For Aquinas, “an idea is a form that something imitates from the intention of an agent who predetermines the end for himself” (De verit., q. 3, a. 1).{11} And since “an exemplar is that to whose imitation a thing is made” (Aquinas, In De divinis nominibus, c. 5, lect. 3, n. 665),{12} it follows that divine ideas are primarily exemplars. He distinguishes three types of exemplar: a natural exemplar, an external intellectual exemplar, and an invented intellectual exemplar. A natural exemplar is clear from generation: the parent dogs have the same form that the puppy has. This sort of exemplar is not true exemplarity, however, both because it is not intellectual and because a natural exemplar does not allow for the agent to determine the end for itself. No dog determines the end of its puppy’s nature. An external exemplar is intellectual, but it is received from without and not determined by the exemplar cause. Consider an artist painting a landscape: There is true exemplarity here insofar as the painter is not the landscape, and he determines both that he will paint and that he will paint this landscape. Still, this external exemplarity is imperfect, since it requires the agent (the artist) to be in potency to receive the exemplar (the landscape), and the effect (the painting) ultimately imitates what is external and not the form in the artist’s mind. Invented intellectual exemplars are perfectly exemplars because they are thought up by the artist himself. This sort of exemplar does not entail any potency in the artist but instead pure act, since he expresses the exemplar only from himself and does not have to receive it from another (Aquinas, De verit., q. 3, a. 1; ST I, q. 15, a. 1; ST I, q. 44, a. 3).

Divine ideas are the third type of exemplars because of their perfection. Such an exemplar form is a form through the mode of imitation because something imitates it (De verit., q. 3, a. 3). This helps to explain two of the aspects of Aquinas’s definition: form and imitation. There are two other aspects of the definition to consider: the intention of the agent and the agent’s predetermining the end for himself. The intention of the agent specifies how the imitation in the effect comes about. Sometimes imitation comes about by accident and chance, as when the artist draws a portrait that just so happens to look like someone. In that case, the artist does not intend the imitation. However, in the case of an exemplar in general and a divine idea in particular, the effect’s imitation of the exemplar happens on purpose (De verit., q. 3, a. 1). An exemplar must be intended and willed by the agent. Since Aquinas, like Bonaventure and Henry, thinks that God did not have to create creatures at all, it follows that God did not necessarily have exemplars. God has exemplars only because he actually intends and wills to create some creature.

The final aspect of Aquinas’s definition, that the agent predetermines the end for himself, refers to the fact that not only does the agent determine that he will cause and that he will cause this thing in particular, but he also determines the very end of the thing he produces. Just as the inventor of the knife determined that the end of a knife is to cut, so too God, by means of the divine ideas, determines the end of each creature (De verit., q. 3, a. 1). He does not just make man, but, as Augustine says in the opening lines of his Confessions, he makes man for himself.{13}

With these principles in place, Imitability Theorists further inquire into the nature of divine ideas by asking whether divine ideas are one or many. Each position seems to be correct. Since God is one and simple, it seems like there should be one divine idea. But if there is only one idea, then how will God have distinct knowledge of individual creatures and create them distinctly? If God knew creatures only as “beings,” he would seem to be missing much, or even most, of what is true of each creature. Since both these arguments lead to conclusions that ought to be held, Bonaventure, Thomas, and Henry all insist that divine ideas are both one and many. They are one in reality (secundum rem) and many in reason (secundum rationem). And while they use slightly different terminology to explain the point, they do so for the same reasons.

Bonaventure offers two arguments for the oneness of divine ideas. The first is based on God’s transcendence of every finite genus. Since God is outside of every genus, his idea of creatures is not restricted to any one genus. Just as an idea of animal could be the exemplar of both a man and a horse, since both share in the genus animal, so too divine truth can be an exemplar of some substance for the same reason that it can be an exemplar of some quality or quantity. It is beyond those genera because God is pure act. Thus, any finite act whatsoever can be an imitation of it (Bonaventure, De scientia Christi, q. 3).

The second argument is based on the fact that a divine idea is an intellectual means of knowing (ratio cognoscendi). A ratio cognoscendi can either refer to that which is (id quod est) or it can refer to that to which it is (id ad quod est), that is, because it is a means of knowing, an idea is something and also refers to something beyond itself. We can consider it according to both aspects. A ratio cognoscendi in the sense of id quod est refers to that through which things are cognized, which for God is divine truth. God’s knowledge of his own essence is the only source of God’s knowledge. Since divine truth is one in reality, there is only one divine idea in reality (Bonaventure, De scientia Christi, q. 3, fm. 11 and corpus; Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 35, a. un., q. 2). There is one divine idea because a divine idea “has an ontological identity with the divine essence” (Cullen, Bonaventure, 168).

Thomas offers a similar argument to Bonaventure’s second argument. Given his definition, it is clear that a divine idea is a form in the divine intellect. But “a form in the intellect” can be understood in two ways: (a) as a principle of understanding, that is, a form making the intellect begin to understand, or (b) as a terminus of understanding, that is, as a form understood (De verit., q. 3, a. 2; Aquinas, Summa contra Gentiles [henceforth ScG] I, c. 53; ST I, q. 15, a. 2; Aquinas, Quaestiones de quolibet [henceforth Quodl.] IV, q. 1, a. 1).{14} There is only one principle of the divine intellect, namely, the divine essence, and so divine ideas are one in reality.

Given that divine ideas are one in reality because God has one source of cognition, both Bonaventure and Thomas insist that the second part of their distinctions (id ad quod est and form as terminus) results in a multiplicity of divine ideas. Divine ideas are many according to reason because they are not the divine essence qua essence. As Bonaventure says, “the name ‘idea’ signifies the divine essence in comparison or relation to a creature” (Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 35, a. un., q. 3).{15} When God knows his essence, many things are connoted (ratione connotatorum) in God’s understanding, which means that God’s direct knowledge is of himself but he has an indirect knowledge of all possible creatures (Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 35, a. un., q. 3, ad 1; Bonaventure, De scientia Christi, q. 3, ad 15).{16} So, when divine ideas are considered as id ad quod est or as form as terminus, they are considered from the side of the things known and expressed in God’s knowledge. And since the expression of one creature is distinct from the expression of another, divine ideas have to be many in this sense. An extended quotation from Aquinas is noteworthy here.

The divine intellect can comprehend in its essence what is proper to each thing by understanding how his essence is imitated and how each one falls short of his perfection. For example, by understanding his essence as imitable through the mode of life and not the mode of cognition, he receives the proper form of plant; by understanding his essence as imitable through the mode of cognition and not the mode of understanding, he receives the proper form of animal. And so on for other forms. (ScG I, c. 54){17}

There have to be many divine ideas because there are many possible proportions and modes of imitating the divine essence.{18}

Henry takes the distinction between the principle and terminus of divine understanding and expands it. He argues that nothing understands something except that which is the per se object of the power by which it knows or that of which the per se object is an intellectual means of knowing (ratio cognoscendi). This principle is true, Henry says, because the power by which the intellect understands is passive and is not moved to an act of understanding except by its per se object. To use an example from sight, the power of sight senses colors and what it can see only by means of seeing colors. Sound does not move sight, since it is not the per se object of sight. The object of the intellect can be taken in two ways: (1) in one way by informing the intellective power to the act of understanding by its action, or (2) in another way by terminating the very act of understanding in its cognition.

Like Bonaventure and Thomas, Henry insists that the first, informing mode occurs only by the divine essence, as it is a given intelligible object having the character (ratio) of the true. The second, terminating mode is distinguished into the primary termination and the secondary termination. The primary termination of the divine intellect is not other than the object informing the act of understanding, which means that God’s primary terminating object is his own essence. The secondary terminating object can be further distinguished in one way by knowing about a creature what it is in God, and in another way by knowing about the creature what it has to be in itself other than God. The first way, he says, is like knowing a statue of Hercules insofar as it is a thing and not as an image. In this way, God knows creatures as they are in his essence and the same as him. In this way, divine ideas are one in reality. The second way is knowing the statue of Hercules as an image. In this way, God knows creatures insofar as he knows his essence as the character (ratio) and exemplar form of creatures.{19} In this sense there are many divine ideas because there are many relations by which creatures relate to God.

For these three authors, then, divine ideas are fundamentally relations of reason (rationes/respectus rationis) that are a secondary consideration of the divine intellect. God has but one source of knowledge, his essence, and when he knows his essence, he primarily knows himself. Secondarily or connotatively, he knows possible creatures because he knows the various real relations that they could bear to him. As Henry says, “knowing one of the related things distinctly, he necessarily knows the other at the same time.”{20} Divine ideas are one insofar as they are one in reality with God’s essence, and they are many insofar as God knows the many relations that creatures could bear to him. This multitude of relations of reason does not compromise God’s simplicity, because relations of reason do not affect the reality of the thing and their multiplication does not make one thing into many things.

The Creatura Intellecta Theory

Scotus’s theory of divine ideas agrees with the Imitability Theory on many points but differs from it on a fundamental issue. He agrees and insists in many places that the character of divine ideas includes God’s knowledge of the relation that a possible creature could bear to him (Scotus, Reportatio Parisiensis [henceforth Rep. Par.] I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, nn. 27, 29, 64).{21} He even admits that God understands his own imitability (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, nn. 21 and 23).{22} However, Scotus sharply parts ways with Bonaventure, Thomas, and Henry insofar as he is “definitively rejecting the consideration of ideas as relations of imitability” (Falà, “Divine Ideas in the Collationes Oxonienses,” 125). The Imitability Theory, he thinks, is grounded on an impossible account of relations. It posits that a relation can be known prior to knowing both of the related terms, but this is impossible. Since both terms of a relation have to be known prior to the relation, God must have direct knowledge of creatures: “an idea is not some relation but the object known in the divine mind in which creatures exist objectively” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 57).{23} In case we missed the import of this claim, he insists again, “the idea of a stone is nothing except the stone as known” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 58).{24} So, while an idea includes a known relation, that known relation is founded on the creature as known (creatura ut intellecta). Thus, he subscribes to what I call the Creatura Intellecta Theory of divine ideas.

Scotus arrives at his conclusion by beginning with what we saw last from Henry. He distinguishes two ways the intellect’s object can be related to the intellect: as mover to what is moveable, such that the object moves the intellect to act, or as terminating the act of the power. Qua mover, the divine intellect can have only one object, the divine essence, because that essence alone is infinite like the act of divine intellection. No finite object could move what is infinite; it is not noble enough. And every created being is formally finite, regardless of whether it exists in the divine intellect or extramentally. So, only the divine essence, which alone is infinite, could move the infinite divine intellect to its act of knowing. Scotus further distinguishes the terminating object of the intellect into what terminates primarily and what terminates secondarily. The primary terminating object does so according to the proper character (ratio), just as the sensible terminates the act of the sense power primarily. Using an example from the act of seeing, Scotus says that color is the primary terminating object of our vision. An object terminates secondarily insofar as it is included in the character of what terminates the potency’s act primarily. In the act of seeing, we see the common sensible of quantity when we see the color (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, nn. 10–11).{25}

Like Henry, Scotus insists that the object primarily terminating God’s intellect is God himself, although he offers another distinct reason based on God’s infinity. The object primarily terminating a power’s act is required for that act. Nothing finite is required for God’s infinite act of knowing. So, nothing finite is included in the primarily terminating object of God’s intellect (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 13).{26} Moreover, since God’s beatitude follows upon his perfect self-knowledge, if some creature were included in the primarily terminating object, then God would depend on something other than himself for his perfection and beatitude, which is absurd (Noone, “Scotus on Divine Ideas,” 362).{27}

The secondarily terminating object of the divine intellect can be other than God and the divine essence because the secondary terminating objects are included eminently in the primarily terminating object. These objects follow upon the act of knowing, and they depend upon the act of understanding for their being known. As a result, the divine intellect is the measure of these secondarily terminating objects and is in no way measured by them (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 14).

He offers several arguments here for God’s distinct cognition of creatures, but one of them stands out because of its opposition to the Imitability Theory. Scotus’s inspiration for this argument clearly comes from Peter John Olivi (d. 1298) and Peter’s student Petrus de Trabibus (fl. 1290s), but Scotus gives his own articulation of it (Vater, God’s Knowledge of the World, 123–26 and 161–64).{28} Scotus first articulates a Thomistic argument about participation in God’s essence: God perfectly knows his essence, which is participable in an infinite number of ways by a creature, although his essence is not actually participated in all the ways. Therefore, he knows every mode according to which it is participable or can be participated or imitated. Therefore, he also knows the creature, because the creature does not exist except by participation.{29}

This argument can be understood well or poorly. Aquinas understands it poorly, Scotus says, because he takes it that some knower under the notion (ratio) of imitation of those things with respect to the first intelligible knows the creatures quidditatively. But this is false because imitation is not the specific difference of this or that being. He illustrates this point by drawing on the medieval conception that white is the fullness of color and that all other colors are derived from white. This theory is in some ways similar to how we say that white light is the source of the other colors. Scotus insists that it is not necessary that someone knowing all colors insofar as they imitate whiteness would know all those colors quidditatively. He can know that whiteness is participable according to more or less by colors and yet could not know their absolute specific differences.{30} Supposing that red imitates white better than orange, having that knowledge does not entail knowing what makes red to be red. Again, the specific difference of man is not “participating God in this mode”; it is “rational.” This argument seems to be directed against Aquinas’s claim in Summa contra Gentiles that when God understands his essence as imitable according to life but not cognition, then he receives the proper form of plant.{31} This interpretation seems to make God’s knowledge of this creature or that creature a matter of comparison to other possible creatures. But we do not know what a dog is by knowing that it imitates God more than an earthworm and less than a chimpanzee.

As a result, Scotus says that this participation or imitation argument is understood well only if we say that when God perfectly understands his imitable essence, he perfectly knows every mode by which he can be imitated, the imitations, and the foundations of the imitations (because an imitation is not perfectly known unless the foundation of the imitation is known).{32} The mode by which God is imitated is the relation by which the creature is like God. The imitation is the creature itself, which is like God in some way. The foundation is that in a thing which grounds the relation, as Socrates’s age is the foundation for his relation “older than” relative to Plato. God’s knowledge of the imitation is logically posterior to his knowledge of the terms of the relation of imitability. God must know himself and the foundation of the participation and imitation (that is, the creature itself) prior to knowing the relation of imitability itself.

Consequently, Scotus declares that no relation is required by necessity for God to have distinct and determinate knowledge of creatures (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 50). He thinks this claim can be understood legitimately in two ways, but he clearly favors the second, more provocative, interpretation, which holds that “no relation is required in God for him to understand things other than himself nor, the other way around, is either a relation of the intelligible object to God or a real relation required, because there is no such relation of God to a creature, nor a relation of reason” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 51).{33} This position must follow because, as Scotus has argued, it is impossible for a relation of reason to be simultaneous with or precede the divine intellection of something other than himself. Any relation “is logically consequent upon God’s knowledge of creatures” (Noone, “Aquinas on Divine Ideas: Scotus’s Evaluation,” 315).{34} If the relation were simultaneous with or preceded God’s act of understanding, then it would not be established by his understanding, and so would be a real relation. God would be really related to creatures and so depend upon them (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 51).

Having taken this position on God’s direct knowledge of creatures, he offers a definition at variance with his predecessors: “an idea is an eternal reason in the divine mind insofar as it is something formable according to its proper character [ratio]” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 57).{35} Not only is there no obvious reference to relation here, which makes his Creatura Intellecta Theory of divine ideas distinct from the Imitability Theory, in the very next sentence he emphasizes the point: “And so it is clear that an idea is not some relation but the object known in the divine mind in which creatures exist objectively” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 57).{36} Thus, Scotus insists that “the idea of a stone is not other than the stone as understood” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 58).{37}

It is tempting to read this definition as denying that the character of an idea includes any sort of relation whatsoever. However, that reading does not cohere with Scotus’s threefold insistence that “it is certain that there are in God distinct relations and distinct ideas to know distinct knowable things, like stone, man, etc.” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 27).{38} “Everyone concedes such ideal relations in God” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 29).{39} The only real question, as far as Scotus is concerned, is whether such relations are necessary for God to know possible creatures. He answers in the negative.

As a result, Scotus’s definition, we should note, emphasizes that an idea is about a possible creature as formable. To see why the term “formable” matters, we need to understand the way Scotus applies his oft-used theory of instants to divine ideas. The theory of instants flows from Scotus’s conviction that “whatever real order there would be among things if they were really distinct, such is the order of those things according to reason, where they are distinct according to reason” (Rep. Par. I-A, prologus, q. 1, a. 4, n. 111).{40} There can be a natural priority and posteriority among things even if they are distinct only according to reason. As Fr. Allan B. Wolter explains, “If B presupposes A logically, but not vice versa, then A may be said to be prior by nature to B” (Wolter, “Scotus on the Divine Origin of Possibility,” 106).{41} The species horse presupposes the genus animal logically but not vice versa, so the genus is prior by nature to the species.

Scotus thinks that such a priority in the objects of God’s knowledge can be found, so he applies his theory of instants to it.{42} In the first instant of God’s knowing, he knows his essence. In the second instant, God knows a stone, and the stone is constituted in being-known (esse cognitum), but the stone is not related to God nor does it depend upon him, because at this instant it is nothing in reality (nihil est in re). At this instant, God understands everything that he understands without any dependence of the thing on him. And then, in the third instant, God compares himself to the stone as it is understood and thus has a relation of reason to it. Finally, in the fourth instant, God can understand the relations of reason established in the third instant. It is clear that the character of an idea is complete after the fourth instant, because after declaring it, Scotus says, “Therefore, it is clear that I do not deny there to be relations of reason to creatures there, but I say that they are not necessary for God’s understanding of creatures” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 64).{43}

These four instants, which are a mere logical progression in God’s understanding and not any sort of temporal progression, show how the Creatura Intellecta Theory is both innovative, for denying that ideas are relations through which God knows possible creatures, and also traditional, insofar as divine ideas are characterized by relations. The relation of reason established in the third instant and known in the fourth instant is necessary for God to know the creature as formable by him, because the relation of reason makes evident that the possible creature can imitate God in some way. Since it can imitate God in some way and depend upon him when it is made, God knows it as formable.

The Nominalist Theory

The Nominalist Theory of divine ideas is distinct from both the Imitability Theory and the Creatura Intellecta Theory because it denies that relations are part of the character of divine ideas at all. Instead of articulating divine ideas in the metaphysical terminology of “relation,” proponents of the Nominalist Theory articulate their theories in the logical terminology of “connotation.” Bonaventure did say that the plurality of divine ideas is founded on the character of the things connoted, but he used connotation alongside relations (Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 35, a. un., q. 3, ad 3). So, while there is something traditional about the Nominalist Theory, the theory involves more radical departure from prior theories than continuity with them. Peter Auriol and William of Ockham both endorse the Nominalist Theory but offer conflicting accounts of it, so each of them will be considered.

Auriol objects to all his predecessors’ discussions of relations of imitability. An idea or exemplar is that in God which every creature imitates. But it is manifest that creatures do not imitate relations of reason but the bare essence of the Godhead (ipsam nudam essentiam Deitatis). Creatures do not imitate the relations of imitability but the substratum of those relations, so those relations are not divine ideas. He confirms this claim by an analogy to sight. Vision attains color not because of a relation of visibility: color just is visible in virtue of being color. In the same way, creatures imitate the divine essence abstracted from every respect or relation, even though the apprehension of a relation of imitability can immediately arise (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 36, p. 2, a. 1).{44} Creatures imitate the divine essence, not divine ideas, because if they imitated divine ideas, then the divine essence could not be the exemplar cause of creatures essentially and formally; it could be exemplar cause only by a sort of subtraction (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 35, p. 3, a. 2).

Auriol’s own theory is that all understanding is connotative. Concepts are that by which something appears to a knower, and they are connotative because that which appears does so by inherently pointing to something other than the concepts themselves without introducing some third thing. As Auriol says, “Flesh, through the ratio by which it is flesh, is called someone’s flesh” (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 8, p. 3, a. 6, n. 192).{45} No third thing is required for flesh to connote the one whose flesh it is. Relative concepts, by contrast, do add a third thing: a relation. Auriol uses the example of a father. “Father” expresses “son” only through the relation of paternity added to the father (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 8, p. 3, a. 6, n. 192). Connotative concepts, then, are more parsimonious, since they “do not express the connoted thing because of a relatedness or relation, but from their proper condition” (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 8, p. 3, a. 6, n. 192).{46}

Like his predecessors, Auriol insists that God has one source of cognition, namely, his own Godhead (deitas). When God knows his Godhead, Auriol says, he knows himself, because his Godhead denotes himself. The Godhead also connotes all possible creatures. And since this connotation happens immediately (although in an indirect way), God does not require any sort of a secondary reflection upon himself. He has one simple gaze (intuitus) upon himself and immediately knows himself as denoted and all possible creatures as connoted. Just as someone who knows a hand knows immediately though indirectly that it is someone’s hand, so too when God knows himself he knows immediately though indirectly all creatures (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 36, p. 2, a. 1).{47}

From this point, Auriol concludes that the terms “idea” and “exemplar” are connotative terms, since they always connote that of which they are ideas or exemplars. An exemplar is always an exemplar of something. Divine ideas, then, are connotative reasons (rationes connotativae). Since they are connotations, not relations, divine ideas have nothing to do with a similarity between God and creatures. God and creatures are vastly different, but the Godhead immediately connotes creatures (Paladini, “Exemplar Causality,” 220–21). The Godhead is, as Auriol says, an equivocal likeness that allows every creature to be made. To speak of divine ideas is to focus on the connotation discovered when the divine essence is known: “a divine idea does not differ from the divine essence except as the same ratio taken with the connoted thing and without the connoted thing” (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 36, p. 2, a. 1).{48} For Auriol, then, divine ideas are not relations or creatures as known. They are the Godhead as known to connote possible creatures.

Ockham agrees with Auriol that “idea” is a connotative term precisely because an idea is always an idea of something, which means that an idea always signifies something and connotes something else (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5).{49} Given this fact, he defines an idea as “something known by an effective intellectual principle, looking to which the active principle can produce something in real being” (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5).{50} The reference to production leads Ockham to claim that ideas are known exemplars.

Ockham parts ways with Auriol, however, because he says that only the creatures themselves fit this descriptive definition of an idea.{51} An idea cannot be a relation of reason, because no being of reason (ens rationis) can be the exemplar of a real being (ens reale). How could what is real be the same as what is only of reason (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5)?{52} Neither could a divine idea be the divine essence, because, as everyone admits, there are many divine ideas. But the divine essence is one (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5). Independent of these difficulties, Ockham says, creatures fit the description of an idea quite well. A creature is what God, as an intellectual agent, knows and looks to in his act of creating. Ockham thinks that God’s knowledge of his own essence by itself is insufficient to make him produce creatures rationally. He would create ignorantly unless he knew the creatures themselves. So, God looks to the producible creatures themselves, and they are the divine ideas (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5).{53} God, like a created artist, knows the very thing he will produce and so makes it.

Since Ockham says both that ideas are connotative and that they are the creatures themselves, we might wonder exactly how he fits these claims together. Auriol’s theory that an idea denotes the Godhead and connotes possible creatures seems straightforward, especially since it has the same general structure as the other theories we have examined. When God knows, he knows himself directly and creatures in an indirect or secondary way. If an idea is the creature itself, what is connoted? Ockham gives a somewhat confusing answer:

An idea signifies the creature itself both directly [in recto] and indirectly [in obliquo]. It also signifies indirectly divine knowledge itself or the divine knower. Therefore, “idea” is predicable of the creature itself as it is. However, it is not predicable of the knowing agent or his knowledge, because neither cognition nor knowledge is an idea, just as an idea is not an exemplar.{54} (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5)

Divine ideas denote the creature and they connote both the creature again and also God’s knowledge. It is not entirely clear what the distinction between the denotation and connotation of the creature is, but it seems reasonable to say that an idea denotes the creature as known and connotes the creature as produced in reality (Maurer, The Philosophy of William of Ockham, 218; Vater, God’s Knowledge of the World, 243).{55}

Ockham’s theory, despite being, like Auriol’s, a Nominalist Theory, differs sharply from Auriol’s insofar as they argue that the denotation and connotation of divine ideas are exactly opposite each other. What they have in common, though, and what makes them both adherents of the Nominalist Theory, is that they both deny that divine ideas are relations at all. Divine ideas are simply connotative concepts or reasons (rationes). As a result, both of their theories are metaphysically deflationary. They replace a metaphysical framework of relation with a grammatical and logical framework of connotation.

Does God Have Ideas?

Although we spoke of divine ideas in the prior section, we have not yet argued that God has ideas. Many arguments are given for the necessity of positing ideas in God. Arguments are made from the fact that God acts rationally and not out of necessity, from formal and exemplar causality, from divine illumination, from natural teleology and final causality, and from his self-knowledge. For the sake of space, we will examine only the last argument.

The classic articulation of the argument from divine self-knowledge comes from St. Thomas Aquinas. God perfectly knows himself, because otherwise he would not be perfect. But if something is known perfectly, then its power must be cognized perfectly. And something’s power is known perfectly only if all the things to which its power extends are also known. So, since God’s power extends to things other than himself (that is, to creatures), since he is the first efficient cause, then God also knows creatures when he knows himself (ST I, q. 14, a. 5).

Bonaventure and Henry of Ghent give arguments similar to this one. Scotus also gives the argument, but he emphasizes that it can be understood well or poorly. It is understood poorly if it means that in the same act of understanding by which God understands the cause, the effect is also understood. This is problematic because God’s understanding of himself formally constitutes his divine beatitude. So, if creatures were included in that cognition, then God would depend on something other than himself (or at least the knowledge of something other than himself) for his blessedness, which is abhorrent (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, nn. 19–20).

Ockham repeats Aquinas’s argument but finds a twofold insufficiency in it. In the first place, he remains unconvinced that perfectly knowing some power entails perfectly knowing all the things to which that power extends. He thinks that a cause can be perfectly known with an effect remaining entirely unknown. Simple knowledge (notitia incomplexa) of one thing does not sufficiently yield simple knowledge of another thing. This fact is clear, he says, from sense, which perfectly knows its object and as a result its power, since its object and the power of its object do not differ in any way, yet it is not necessary that a sense know something other to which it extends. If someone knew the things around us but had never seen the heavens above, he would have no knowledge of the sun, moon, or stars (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 2).{56}

In the second place, Ockham is unconvinced that it can be sufficiently proven that God is the cause of all things or even that he is an efficient cause (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 2; Quodlibet II, q. 1). The most promising way to show that God understands all things other than himself, he thinks, would be by arguing that God is the cause of all other things, but this cannot be proven. Even though it is likely that God is the immediate cause of some effect, it could not be shown that God is the immediate cause of all things (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 2).

So, all the authors are unanimous in declaring that God knows things other than himself and that he has divine ideas, but they do not agree about whether this can be shown by reason.

The Existence of Things in God

There are three positions on the sort of existence had by divine ideas. The first view, held by Bonaventure and Aquinas, argues that divine ideas are identical to God’s existence and that the possible creatures known by means of them enjoy cognitive being (esse cognitum). The second view, which is the common reading of Henry of Ghent, argues that divine ideas have the being of an essence (esse essentiae) and that this sort of existence is in some way independent of God’s being. The third view, embraced by Scotus, Auriol, and Ockham, is that divine ideas can be said to have objective being (esse obiectivum) but are really nothing in themselves.

Bonaventure and Aquinas arrive at their position based on their conviction that divine ideas are one in reality in the divine intellect. Since the divine intellect is identical to God, all the things in the divine intellect are one with it. As a result, divine ideas enjoy divine existence (esse divinum) (Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 36, a. 1, q. 1). Since they enjoy divine existence, we can predicate the divine attributes of them. So, divine ideas are eternal, unchangeable, and so forth. Just as a house has immaterial existence in the mind of a builder because it receives the existence proper to mental existence, so too divine ideas have uncreated being (Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 36, a. 2, q. 1; Aquinas, ST I, q. 18, a. 4, ad 2).

If divine ideas are uncreated and eternal in God but the creatures that imitate them are created and temporal, then the question naturally arises whether creatures have truer existence in God or in their proper natures (that is, as created). Both Bonaventure and Aquinas give nuanced answers to this question. On the one hand, divine existence is truer absolutely speaking, so things exist more truly in God than in themselves. On the other hand, a thing exists more truly when it has all its proper acts. A cow exists more truly when it exists bodily and can moo. In this sense, a creature exists more truly in its proper nature.{57}

The second theory has traditionally been attributed to Henry of Ghent.{58} Henry argues that the essences of things both exist and can be considered in three ways: in individuals, in the intellect, and in themselves. When essences exist in individuals and in universals, certain accidental characteristics accrue to them as a result of their mode of being. For example, the accidents many and particular accrue to an essence insofar as it exists in individuals. But when an essence is considered in itself, Henry says that it has essential being (esse essentiae), which is distinguished from its existential being (esse existentiae) (Henry, Quodlibet I, q. 9; Summa, a. 21, q. 4; Quodlibet V, q. 4; Quodlibet IX, q. 2; Quodlibet X, q. 7).{59} It has esse essentiae insofar as God is its formal exemplar, establishing it through his knowledge as naturally suited to esse existentiae. Essences have esse existentiae when God creates them by his will.

Esse essentiae does not seem to be just divine cognitive being, as it is for Bonaventure and Aquinas; it seems to be a more independent existence, because Henry argues that whatever has esse essentiae is really related to God and that esse essentiae is something in itself. Henry argues in Quodlibet V, q. 4 that the relationship between God and essential being is imbalanced. There is a mere relation of reason from God to what has essential being, “but conversely, that of the creature to him is a real relation.”{60} This line is noteworthy both because Henry refers to what has essential being (and so has not been created yet!) as a creature and says that it is really related to God. But in that case, the divine ideas, which have essential being, must have some sort of existence over and above their being thought by God. Henry is quite strict about restricting the real relations in God to those existing between the Divine Persons; all other real relations to God are by creatures (see Henry, Quodlibet IX, q. 1, ad 1; Summa, a. 53, q. 1; Summa, a. 55, q. 5, ad 2).{61} The conclusion that they are something of themselves and do not merely exist as objects of divine cognition seems inescapable.

The third position, that divine ideas have objective being (esse obiectivum) but are ultimately nothing, is endorsed by Scotus, Auriol, and Ockham. It arises as a response to Henry’s position. Both to emphasize that they do not think divine ideas have any sort of real existence independent of God and because they begin to emphasize that divine ideas are the creatures themselves (or at least that the creatures can be known without any sort of relation), these authors insist that the creatures are nothing in themselves. As Scotus says, “an idea is not some relation but the object known in the divine mind in which creatures exist objectively” (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 1–2, n. 57).{62} To exist objectively is to exist in such a way that the object becomes known (King, “Duns Scotus on Mental Content,” 81).{63} To say that a divine idea exists objectively is to say that it exists in the divine mind. But that knowledge does not make the possible creature have any sort of independent real existence. The stone is still nothing in reality even though God has an idea of it.

Ockham’s thought undergoes a major shift on this topic. His earlier thought argues that creatures as known by God enjoy objective being, but his mature theory on the issue denies that divine ideas even have esse obiectivum.{64} To say that they have any sort of existence at all would be to posit a sort of necessary quasi-creation. This “other little world of objective entities” would have to exist because it is established naturally by the divine intellect, not freely by the divine will (Ockham, Quodlibet III, q. 4).{65} Since, for Ockham, the connotative term “divine idea” denotes creatures themselves and only connotes God’s knowledge, he thinks that attributing any sort of existence to divine ideas would be to posit existence to creatures before they are created. This situation is precisely what he is worried about with Henry’s theory, so he does not posit any sort of existence for divine ideas, although he still insists that they are in the divine intellect. They are in the divine intellect and present as known, but they are not in the divine essence, so they are nothing in themselves.

III. The Scope of Divine Ideas

Having determined the status of divine ideas, it is necessary to turn to the question of the scope of divine ideas. Of what does God have ideas? Does God have an idea of individual beings? Species? Genera? Accidents? Evil? Prime matter? Authors give a host of answers to these questions, and their answers are not strictly determined by their adherence to one of the theories outlined above. In fact, almost all the diversity of positions can be found just by looking at the adherents of the Imitability Theory examined in this article. Some of this diversity can be accounted for by distinctions proper to a theory of divine ideas. For example, an author who emphasizes the cognitive role of divine ideas is likely to defend a broader scope of divine ideas than someone who emphasizes the causal role of divine ideas. Some of the diversity comes from differences that are extraneous to divine ideas, like adherence to a realist or a nominalist theory of universals, the number of the categories of being, or the nature of the order of essences.

Individuals, Species, Genera

There are three views of divine ideas of individuals, species, and genera: Bonaventure, Scotus, and Auriol argue that God has ideas of individuals, species, and genera, all three. Henry argues that God has ideas of the lowest species, but no ideas of individuals or genera. Aquinas and Ockham argue that, strictly speaking, God has ideas of individuals only.

Bonaventure argues that when God’s intellect expresses itself, it does so supremely and most perfectly. Thus, there is a distinct divine idea for every distinct expression of divine truth. Since Socrates, man, and animal (as well as every other individual, species, and genus) are distinct and unique expressions of divine truth, there are divine ideas of all three (Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 35, a. un., q. 4). For Scotus, the issue depends on the fact that God can do everything that we can do (but more eminently). Since we can compare an individual, species, and genus to God’s essence, God can too. But when God knows those comparisons, the character of a divine idea is complete. Thus, God has ideas of individuals, species, and genera (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 3–4, n. 49). Auriol claims that when God knows his essence, individuals, species, and genera are all connoted as distinct and as if they could each exist extramentally (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 36, p. 2, a. 2).

Henry argues that God has ideas of only what exists absolutely (secundum se et ad se ipsa) and essentially. He arrives at this principle through a series of distinctions among creatures. First, they are either natural things or not (as in the case of second intentions or artifacts). Since non-natural things are derived from natural things, God would not need distinct ideas of them. Second, natural things are either secundum se and ad se ipsas or not. The former are in the categories of substance, quantity, and quality; the latter are in one of the other seven categories, for which distinct ideas are not necessary. Finally, some things that are natural secundum se and ad se ipsas are such essentially, and others are such accidentally. Only the lowest species (e.g., man as opposed to animal, or scarlet as opposed to red) are essentially such; genera, individuals, and even the specific differences of species are only accidentally such. There are divine ideas of the former, not the latter (Henry, Quodlibet VII, qq. 1–2).

Divine ideas of the natural things that are secundum se and ad se ipsas accidentally are excluded because knowledge of them can be derived from what is such essentially. Knowledge of a species, since it is more complete, is sufficient for knowing all the genera, which are less complete. By having an idea of man, God has an idea of animal, living thing, and so on. Individuals are excluded because they do not add anything formally distinct from the species. Peter imitates God qua man, but he does not imitate God qua Peter (Henry, Quodlibet VII, qq. 1–2, solutio et ad 1).

Aquinas and Ockham hold the position that God has ideas of singulars only, but they do so for very different reasons. Since Aquinas emphasizes the causal role of divine ideas, the scope of divine ideas will extend only as far as the scope of exemplars, according to which God has willed to create at some time in history. But what God wills to create are individuals (see, e.g., Aquinas, De ente et essentia, c. 2).{66} Species and genera exist only insofar as the individual does (ST I, q. 15, a. 3, ad 4). Insofar as ideas are reasons (rationes), Aquinas’s theory is identical to Bonaventure’s and Scotus’s.

Ockham’s theory is highly dependent upon his nominalism. God has ideas only of those things he could make. Since individual beings are what is producible extramentally, there are ideas only of them. There are no ideas of species or genera except in the extended sense that he knows them as individual thoughts of our minds (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5).{67}

Accidents

There are three positions on divine ideas of accidents: all, some, or none. Bonaventure, Scotus, and Ockham hold the position that God has ideas of all accidents. Bonaventure does not address the issue explicitly, but there is nothing in his argument that God has ideas of all individuals, species, and genera that would be restricted to the category of substance and exclude any categories of accidents. Scotus applies the same argument about God’s being able to make all the same comparisons that we can to the question of accidents. Ockham argues that since every accident could be produced separately from its substance by God, there are divine ideas of all accidents (Scotus, Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 3–4, nn. 47–49; Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5).

Aquinas and Henry argue that God has ideas of some accidents. Aquinas argues that some accidents are inseparable because they always accompany the individual or the species and so are produced in the same act that produces the substance. To make a man is to make something capable of laughing. Other accidents are separable because they do not always accompany the substance. To make a man is not necessarily to make something musical. Thus, two distinct acts are required to produce the separate accidents. Aquinas concludes that there are distinct divine ideas for separable accidents but not for inseparable ones (ST I, q. 15, a. 3, ad 4). Henry’s argument that there are divine ideas of natural things that are secundum se and ad se ipsas essentially means that God has ideas of the lowest species in the categories of quantity and quality, but not the others (Henry, Quodlibet VII, qq. 1–2).

Auriol argues that there are no divine ideas of accidents because accidents are inseparable from their substances. Thus, when God knows himself, he knows the accidents to be connoted together with the substance. Since there are divine ideas only of those things that are connoted distinctly, there are no divine ideas of accidents. He does say that there are co-ideas of them though (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 36, p. 2, a. 2).

Evil

Most thinkers argue that God has no divine idea of evil properly precisely because it is a lack of being and imitation, but ideas are of those things that have being and imitate God. Still, they argue that God can be said to have a divine idea of evil by means of his ideas of good things, that is, he knows through the idea of the good all the ways that the good could be deprived (Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 36, a. 3, q. 1; Aquinas, De verit., q. 3, a. 4, ad 7; Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 36, p. 2, a. 2). Ockham goes a step further and denies that God has an idea of evil in any way, because there are divine ideas only of things God could produce separately, but God could not produce evil or any other privation separately (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5).

Prime Matter

Most authors argue that God does have a distinct divine idea of prime matter. Bonaventure, for example, argues that even imperfect things have some perfection, and even the least bit of likeness is sufficient for the character of an idea and exemplar. Thus, God has an idea of prime matter (Bonaventure, In I Sent., d. 36, a. 3, q. 2). Henry and Scotus offer similar arguments. Once again, Ockham argues on the basis of what God can produce separately. Since he thinks God could make prime matter separately, he concludes that God has an idea of it (Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5).

Auriol argues from the same principle of separability that Ockham does, but comes to the opposite conclusion. He denies that God could create matter separately, so he denies an idea of prime matter. Once again, he says that there could be a co-idea of matter, but the meaning of this term is somewhat obscure (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 36, p. 2, a. 2).

Aquinas’s mature position on the matter is that God does not have an idea of prime matter (neither in the sense of exemplar nor in the sense of ratio). Prime matter is pure potency, and existence is an act. So, it is contradictory to say that prime matter could exist on its own. Thus, God has no exemplar of it. Moreover, all knowledge comes through form and act, which means that God cannot even know prime matter directly. He can have only the same sort of indirect knowledge of it that he has of evil (ST I, q. 15, a. 3, ad 3; Quodl. III, q. 1, a. 1).

The Number of Divine Ideas

The question about the number of divine ideas is conducted exclusively as a question of whether God has a finite or infinite number of divine ideas. Bonaventure and Scotus argue for an infinite number of infinities of divine ideas, if that expression could be allowed. For them, there are an infinite number of ideas of possible species and genera in every category of being, and there are an infinite number of possible individuals of each of those possible species. Scotus further argues that although the divine essence and the number of divine ideas are both infinite, the infinity of the divine essence is more perfect because it is the cause of the infinity of divine ideas (Rep. Par. I-A, d. 36, qq. 3–4, nn. 68–69). Auriol and Ockham also argue for an infinite number of divine ideas, because God could make an infinite number of individuals. They each deny that the ideas of species and genera are infinite in number (Auriol, Scriptum I, d. 36, p. 2, a. 2; Ockham, Ordinatio I, d. 35, q. 5).

Henry argues that the number of divine ideas must be finite. One step of the argument has already been seen in Henry’s denial of ideas of individuals. Regardless of whether the other authors are right that there are an infinite number of possible individuals, the number of divine ideas would be unaffected because, on Henry’s theory, there are ideas only of the lowest species. The other step of the argument concludes that the number of lowest species must be numerically finite. Since divine ideas are relations of reason concerning the way in which the divine intellect knows the divine essence to be imitable, it follows that each of them occupies a distinct grade of perfection. So, if there were an infinite number of divine ideas, then they would have to occupy higher and higher grades of perfection without end, which would mean that at the top some finite essence would have infinite perfection, which is impossible (Henry, Quodlibet V, q. 3).{68}

Since Aquinas posits a distinction between divine ideas as exemplars of creatures that God wills to produce at some time in history and as rationes of possible creatures that God does not will to produce, his answer to this question is more complex than other authors’. There are an infinite number of divine rationes because the number of individuals, species, and genera of substances and accidents that God has not willed to make is infinite. The number of divine exemplars is finite because God makes only a finite number of individuals and their separable accidents in history (ST I, q. 15, a. 3). Although Aquinas is sure of this conclusion for divine exemplars, it should be noted that it is knowable only to the theologian, who learns from the faith that both the past and the future are finite. The philosopher, he thinks, cannot prove that the world either is or is not eternal. Thus, it would be philosophically possible for there to be an infinite number of divine exemplars. It is false, but not impossible.{69}

IV. Conclusion

This article has presented several major theories of divine ideas promoted by philosophers and theologians in the High Middle Ages. Although many of the details and, in some cases, supporting accounts for the theories had to be omitted, enough has been presented that the main points of each theory and the historical trends of the theories can be known. Every theory has in common that God has ideas, that those ideas arise from his knowing his own essence, that there are many divine ideas, and that they are exemplars that establish the intelligibility of the world. The many differences among the theories stem primarily from the way each author understands relations. Imitability Theorists argue that divine ideas are rational relations by which God knows the relations creatures could bear to him. By knowing himself, God knows possible creatures by knowing the relations they could bear to him. Scotus objects in his Creatura Intellecta Theory that relations are not known in that manner and so insists that God has direct knowledge of possible creatures in an instant logically prior to his knowing their possible relations to him. Nominalist Theorists remove relations from their theories of divine ideas and replace them with connotative concepts or reasons. Just as flesh is always the flesh of someone, so too ideas are always ideas of something. They always—and without an intervening relation—point to a possible creature.

Divine ideas are an important area of investigation because they bring together so many philosophical topics in metaphysics, logic, and epistemology. The study of them can lead us to a greater understanding of the intelligibility of the world and our place in it. It also leads to other important areas of inquiry, especially the mystery of evil, divine providence and predestination, and divine foreknowledge and free will. God does not have ideas of evil things, but surely his provident plan for the universe as a whole and our lives individually is included in his idea for us. These questions are among the most difficult philosophically and theologically, and they can be stumbling blocks in the lives of many. I encourage the reader to look closely at these issues.