Analogy and Predication

By Dr. Joseph G. Trabbic


Analogy in General

We can use the same word in different ways so that its meaning in one case will be completely different from its meaning in another case. If I say “The bow of the Titanic plunged beneath the waves” and “We will not bow to their demands,” the word “bow” in the first sentence does not mean at all what it means in the second sentence. We would say that the relationship between the two meanings of “bow” is equivocal, that is, the meanings have no connection whatsoever. If I say “The volcano is in the middle of the island” and “Every island is surrounded by water,” the word “island” has the very same meaning in each case. We would say that the relationship between the meaning of “island” in the first sentence and its meaning in the second sentence is univocal. But there is yet a third kind of relationship that the meanings of a word can have in different instances of its use. This third kind of relationship is called analogical and St. Thomas Aquinas notes that it stands midway between equivocity and univocity.[1] If I say “This Scotch is good” and “My wife thinks Kristin Lavransdatter is a good book,” the meanings of “good” in these two sentences are partly the same and partly different. In both cases “good” means that the thing in question has met certain expectations (or perhaps that it has achieved a certain perfection with respect to the kind of thing it is). But it should be evident to all that what makes a Scotch good will be different from what makes a novel good. Some people prefer Scotch with a peaty taste but no one would say that peatiness is what we should look for in a novel. So, “good” has an analogous meaning in these sentences. It is not meant in a completely different way in them nor is it meant in exactly the same way.

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Does Fratelli Tutti Change Church Teaching about the Death Penalty?

by Gregory Caridi


Not moments after Pope Francis’ encyclical Fratelli tutti was published, many began pointing to its statements on the death penalty. In particular, Fr. James Martin appears to believe that, with this document, Church teaching has been “definitively” changed on this question. He writes:

Pope Francis’ new encyclical, “Fratelli Tutti,” does something that some Catholics believed could not be done: It ratifies a change in church teaching. In this case, on the death penalty.

There are many things wrong with this statement, particularly canonically, but we should focus on the most fundamental problem: Church teaching cannot be “changed” in the way he and many others regularly imply. The Church is not an authority that creates truth. It does not write down a rule book of what has been made true and what has now been made false. The Church identifies something as true, in a way an historian or a mathematician may do so. In other words, the Pope could not change a moral truth any more than he could change an historical one. The Pope, along with the bishops, certainly have the power above all others to identify truth in this way, but no one has power to make a thing false which was once true. What is true, particularly with this issue, is of course complex, but one can be absolutely certain that whatever is true cannot one day be made false, or vice versa.

The problem with Fr. Martin’s position is not merely that it’s incorrect; it’s that it undermines itself. If the teaching can be “changed” from X to Y, then there is no reason that it couldn’t be changed from Y back to X, turning the Teaching Office of the Church into something like an adversarial political process where sides lobby for their position to win out. This is not only entirely contrary to the basic fundamentals of the Church’s teaching authority, it runs afoul to the entire theme of fraternal love, submission and cooperation that carries throughout the document. The kind of thinking employed here has unfortunately plagued our civil law for generations, and it is truly disheartening to see it be promoted in the ecclesiastical space.

What’s perhaps most unfortunate about Martin’s comments and framing is that Pope Francis expresses his most nuanced approach to the question of the death penalty in this document. He moves beyond the bare question of whether capital punishment is, in principle, permissible as a matter of a moral fact to whether it is adequate in recognizing the fullness of Christ’s love. The Holy Father does not directly engage the long-established tradition that recognizes its legitimacy; he instead moves beyond, appealing to a tradition within the Church which transcends bare moral truth, to love beyond the minimal, especially when it comes to something that so cuts off the other.

This is not a “change” in Church teaching any more than “love thy neighbor” is a “change” from “the Lord’s curse is on the house of the wicked.” Opposing the death penalty is to love despite and beyond any underlying moral truth, which by itself would be inadequate in expressing Christ’s unending outpouring of forgiveness and mercy.

It is unquestionable that Pope Francis, and so the Church, is opposed to capital punishment in both the personal and the political, especially when rooted in vengeance or a desire to derive pleasure from another’s punishment, but the Holy Father does not appear to be writing any sort of philosophical treatise or “definitively” defining some sort of new church teaching. He calls on us instead to dig into why he wants us to oppose the practice and to recognize that the tradition of doing so has always existed in the Church. Any statements about a “change” in Church teaching, on either side, are to miss his point entirely.

The Josias Podcast, Episode XXVI: Historicism

Historicism seems to be a challenge to an integralist account of politics, because it denies that there is an unchanging truth about the human good accessible to our minds. In this episode the editors talk to Felix de St. Vincent and Brett Favras about Collingwood’s historicism, Leo Strauss’s critique of Collingwood, and Alasdair MacIntyre’s much more positive response to Collingwood and historicism.

Bibliography and Links

R.G. Collingwood, An Autobiography, 1939.

Felix de St. Vincent and Brett Favras, “Integralism, MacIntyre, and Final Ends: Towards a Secular Account of Christian Politics,” The Josias, 2018.

Alasdair MacIntyre, A Short History of Ethics, 1966; After Virtue, 1981.

Nathan Pinkoski, “Alasdair MacIntyre and Leo Strauss on the Activity of Philosophy,” Review of Politics, 2020.

Leo Strauss, Natural Right and History, 1953; On Political Philosophy: Responding to the Challenge of Positivism and Historicism, 2018; “Lectures on Plato’s Meno,” 1966.

Music: W.A. Mozart, Die Entführung aus dem Serail, Act 3 “Nie werd’ ich deine Huld verkennen,” Les Arts Florissants under the direction of William Christie.

Header Image: William Hogarth, “The Seraglio.”

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