​                                                                             by    Brother Thomas Aquinas

Near the beginning of the Summa Theologiæ, St. Thomas Aquinas provides five arguments for God’s existence that rely on human reason without recourse to articles of faith or revelation. Since the Summa is by title a summary, Aquinas’ presentation of the “Five Ways” is rather terse, but the philosophical details are clarified in other writings, both by the saint himself and by subsequent authors. Nevertheless, the abbreviated versions are valuable in their own right for one wishing to study the Catholic faith and all it encompasses.
 
In the second of the Five Ways, which we consider here, St. Thomas argues from the principle of causation, and his reasoning may be expressed as follows:

1.  We observe in the world effects brought about by causes.
2.  In some cases, the effect of one cause is itself the cause of a subsequent cause.
3.  Although every effect is the result of some cause, nothing is the cause of itself, for this would require it to precede itself in the order of causation.
4.  In the absence of any particular cause, neither does the corresponding effect occur.
5.  A sequence of causes cannot extend backward infinitely, for then there would be no first cause to bring about any of the others or the ultimate effect.
6.  But we do observe sequences of causes and effects, so there must be a first cause, which we call God.
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Though many have challenged this argument in varying ways, it is the fifth point that seems to be the least understood. Indeed, there are two different ways to build a sequence of causes and effects, and the distinction between these ways is of crucial importance to the syllogism as a whole.
 
When discussing sequences of causes that may or may not “extend backward infinitely,” there is a strong tendency to envision a sequence that extends backward in time: a line of dominoes falls by successive collisions of one domino into the next. However, these are examples of what metaphysicians call accidental sequences: once a particular cause has produced its effect, it is no longer needed for any subsequent effects. A man can beget a child even though his parents have died. Since any particular cause in an accidental sequence depends upon only the prior cause and is necessary for only the subsequent effect, there is no theoretical reason such a sequence could not extend infinitely far into the past. As long as each domino knocks into the next, the line will continue to fall.
 
Aquinas’ argument fails if the sequences in question are accidentally ordered, but this is not what he had in mind. Instead, the Second Way appeals to essentially ordered sequences of causes. In an essentially ordered sequence, each cause depends from moment to moment on all prior causes, and in fact all causes exist and act simultaneously in a hierarchical structure. For example, an ornate chandelier is suspended above a foyer not only by the first link, to which it is directly connected, but also by every other link in the chain and, ultimately, the fixture on the ceiling. If any link breaks, the chandelier will fall.
 
The utility of this analogy extends even further. Notice that an infinitely long chain is useless to hold the chandelier without the force of a ceiling fixture. Indeed, although each link can be proximally explained by reference to the next higher link, we must eventually reach an agent with its own explanatory power. We achieve nothing by indefinitely deferring such an explanation.
 
The distinction between accidentally and essentially ordered sequences of causes is tantamount to a proper interpretation of Aquinas’ argument. Equally important, however, is the choice of analogy used to illustrate the argument. Therefore, against the multitude of ineffective examples, it will be profitable to identify another that is useful: given an exceptionally long train of boxcars rolling up an incline, we can conclude, even without directly observing it, the existence of a locomotive at the front (or, at least, some external force) that is ultimately responsible for the motion, since boxcars cannot move themselves.
 
It is in this sense—that of boxcars, rather than dominoes—that Aquinas intended his Second Way be read, and doing so establishes the necessity for a first cause, namely God, in order to satisfactorily explain the causes and effects we observe here and now. In fact, since it appeals to essentially ordered sequences, rather than accidentally ordered ones, the argument would be just as effective in a universe that had always existed. And with similar diligence to distinguish the precise meaning of Aquinas’ terminology, there is much to be gleaned from his other writings as well.

Are We There Yet?                                                                                         by Sr. Mary Magdalene
I suspect that most of us can recall riding in the back seat of the family car and asking our parents that eternal question, “Are we there yet?”  It’s a natural curiosity, however annoying it may have been in its repetition, to want to know a bit more about the length and breadth of the journey at hand.  It’s also a lesson in patient and watchful waiting.
When my brother, sister and I were getting restless on the journey, our parents would re-direct our attention in such a way as to cause us to utilize the time in a more meaningful way. This, of course, also deflected them from further buffeting by the “eternal question.”  One of the techniques included looking at license plates of other vehicles and imagining where their occupants were travelling from and how far from home they might be. We might also think about our destination and imagine what we might do when we got there. Along the way we might play the I spy game.  I spy with my little eye, something purple!  Maybe we would check out the highway signs and try to figure out what state we were in or how long it would take to get to the next place along the way.
The Church, in Her Wisdom, gives us a journey, as well. In these last weeks of the liturgical year, the readings at the Mass have focused on the end times.  In some ways, they may seem to pose more questions than they answer. Throughout the Gospel narratives, we are steeped in the words of Jesus on Mercy, Service and Love, but here in these last few weeks of the liturgical year we hear much about the real life questions of where are we going, what will it look like and what will be asked of me.
Let’s walk through some of the Gospel readings for the end of the liturgical year and the beginning of Advent.   In early November, we heard of Jesus’ journey to Jericho. The Gospel of Luke tells us that he intended to pass through the town but instead spied a man named Zacchaeus high up in a sycamore tree.   Zacchaeus was a chief tax collector and not considered a friend of the people. And yet, Jesus called out to him “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house” (Lk 19: 1-10). Luke goes on to tell us that this encounter with the Lord changes Zacchaeus.  Jesus was on a journey, but he was aware of those whom he caught sight of along His way and thought them important enough to alter his temporal journey in order to allow for that encounter. Jesus noticed his fellow travellers.
The very next week (in Cycle C of the Mass readings) we hear about the Sadducees posing a question about the nature of Heaven.  What will it be like in heaven? The question wasn’t one of childlike curiosity in that the Sadducees did not believe that there is a resurrection.  They question Jesus, saying “Teacher, Moses wrote for us If someone’s brother dies leaving a wife but no child, his brother must take the wife and raise up descendants for his brother.  Now there were seven brothers….   Now at the resurrection, whose wife will that woman be?  For all seven had been married to her.” The question reveals a general lack of understanding of the nature of heaven, and Jesus responds, “The children of this age marry and remarry; but those who are deemed worthy to attain the coming age and to the resurrection of the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage.  They can no longer die, for they are like angels; and they are the children of God because they are the ones who will rise” (Lk 20: 27-38). The encounter reminds me that although I may try to imagine what heaven, the Beatific Vision and being in the eternal presence of God might be like, my expectation will necessarily fall short.  My vision is limited by my temporal experience. The Lord is asking us to be open to something much, much more than we can imagine.
As we travel through mid-November in this Cycle of readings, we hear Jesus address the question of when the end will come.  “Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” Jesus answered, “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’  Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end.” Jesus goes on to say, “Before all this happens, however, they will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name.  It will lead to your giving testimony. Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute” (Lk 21:5-19).  
I harken back to our family car trips.  While my parents encouraged us to think of our destination with a sort of joyful anticipation and expectation, they also broke the chains of travel fatigue by helping us to take note of the people, places and things along the way.  Jesus gives us some of the same lessons. See the people that He places before you.  They may not be high up in a sycamore tree, but they will be found along the route of your particular journey.  Take note of the sign posts of people and places along the way.  Stay in the moment and allow the Lord, in prayer, study, and community, to give you what you need to respond.  Trust that today’s moments are a crucial part of the journey.
The liturgical year ends on the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.  Of the many Gospel stories that might be good choices in depicting the Lord as “king,” the Church places Lk 23: 35-43, Jesus’ crucifixion and the words, “Above him there was an inscription that read, ‘This is the King of the Jews.’”  This, the image of a God-King who died and was raised as He lived--with arms open wide in power, in prayer, in invitation and embrace. He calls us to live in loving obedience and under His kingship, in imitation of Him.
Advent is an invitation to continue the journey.  As we step into the Gospel of Matthew, we hear Jesus beckon to us to “Stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come.”   And in the Third week of Advent we will hear the imprisoned John the Baptist ask the question, “Are you the one who is to come or should we look for another?”  Jesus said to (them) in reply, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.  And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me’” (Mt 11: 2-11). 
 John could take solace in the works of Love that accompanied the Savior, Jesus.  Can we be known as the Lord’s followers, His people, by the words, deeds and actions of love that accompany our lives?  This, is perhaps the truest component of an authentic Christian journey.  The Scriptures, the lives of the Saints, and the exemplary example of Our Lord all point us toward the signposts of presence, awareness, trust in prayer and genuine encounter with our fellow sojourners as important aspects of this most excellent of journeys. ​