Modern Theology 20:1 January 2004 ISSN 0266-7177 (Print) ISSN 1468-0025 (Online) THOMAS AQUINAS AND ISLAM DAVID B. BURRELL, C.S.C. The work of Thomas Aquinas may be distinguished from that of many of his contemporaries by his attention to the writings of Moses Maimonides (1135–1204), a Jew, and Ibn Sina [Avicenna] (1980–1037), a Muslim. His con- temporaries, especially in Paris, were responsive to the work of another Muslim, Ibn Rushd [Averroës] (1126–1198), for his rendition of the philo- sophical achievements of Aristotle, but Aquinas’ relation to Averroës and to those who took their lead from him was far more ambivalent. Aquinas respected “Rabbi Moses” and Avicenna as fellow travelers in an arduous intellectual attempt to reconcile the horizons of philosophers of ancient Greece, notably Aristotle, with those reflecting a revelation originating in ancient Israel, articulated initially in the divinely inspired writings of Moses. So while Aquinas would consult “the commentator” [Averroës] on matters of interpretation of the texts of Aristotle, that very aphorism suggests the limits of his reliance on the philosophical writings of Averroës, the qadifrom Cordova. With Maimonides and Avicenna his relationship was more akin to that among interlocutors, and especially so with “Rabbi Moses”, whose extended dialectical conversations with his student Joseph in his Guide of the Perplexedclosely matched Aquinas’ own project: that of using philosophical inquiry to articulate one’s received faith, and in the process extending the horizons of that inquiry to include topics unsuspected by those bereft of divine revelation. We may wonder at Aquinas’ welcoming assistance from Jewish and Muslim quarters, especially when we reflect on the character of his times: the popular response to the call to arms of the crusades as well as a nearly universal impression on the part of Christians that the new covenant had effectively eclipsed the old. Aquinas may have shared these sentiments, for all we know, yet his overriding concern in reaching out to other thinkers was David Burrell C.S.C., University of Notre Dame, 327 Malloy Hall, Notre Dame IN 46556, USAand Tantur Ecumenical Institute, P.O. Box 19556, 91194 Jerusalem, Israel © Blackwell Publishing Ltd 2004. Published by Blackwell Publishing, 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA02148, USA. 72 David B. Burrell always to learn from them in his search for the truth of the matters at hand. In this respect, he epitomized the medieval respect for learning with its con- viction that “truth was where one found it”. So he was more inclined to examine the arguments of thinkers than their faith, trusting in the image of the creator in us all to search out those traces of the divine handiwork, a theological premise that will prove useful in guiding our explorations into Aquinas’ reliance on Islamic thinkers, and better than attributing to him an ecumenical or interfaith perspective avant la lettre. Yet it would not be unto- ward for us to note how other thinkers attempting to employ the inherited philosophy to elaborate their faith-perspective were for that very reason helpful to Aquinas in his vocational task. It is worth speculating whether the perspective of Aquinas and his con- temporaries was not less Eurocentric than our own. What we call “the west” was indeed geopolitically surrounded by Islam, which sat astride the lucra- tive trade routes to “the east”. Moreover, the cultural heritage embodied in notable achievements in medicine, mathematics, astronomy, and well as the logical, philosophical commentary, translation, and original work in meta- physics begun in tenth-century Baghdad, represented a legacy coveted by western medieval thinkers.1 Marshall Hodgson has called the culture that informed this epoch and extended from India to Andalusia “the Islamicate”, intending thereby to include within its scope Jewish thinkers like Mai- monides who enjoyed the protected status of dhimmi and contributed to Muslim civilization.2 Christians like John of Damascus enjoyed a similar status, reserved by Qur’anic authority for “people of the book”, yet the divi- sions in Christendom saw to it that thinkers in Paris were better acquainted with Muslim and Jewish thinkers than with their co-religionist in Islamic regions. Aquinas’ own geographic and social origins could well have predisposed him to a closer relationship with thinkers representative of the Islamicate than his contemporaries could be presumed to have had, in Paris at least. For his provenance from Aquino in the region of Naples, itself part of the kingdom of Sicily, reflected a face of Europe turned to the Islamicate, as evi- denced in the first translations commissioned from Arabic: “Latin, Muslim, and Jewish culture mingled freely in Sicily in a unique way that was pecu- liarly Sicilian.”3 Moreover, in his later years, when his Dominican province asked him to direct a theological studium, Aquinas expressly chose Naples (over Rome or Orvieto) for its location, and that for intellectual reasons: “there was a vitality about Naples that was absent from Rome or any other city in the Roman province”.4So it might be surmised that these dimensions of his own personal history led him to be more open to thinkers from the Islamicate than his co-workers from Cologne or Paris might have been. In any case, the number and centrality of the citations from Avicenna and Moses Maimonides leave no doubt as to their place in his intellectual devel- opment. By styling that place as one of interlocutor, I have tried to finesse © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004 Thomas Aquinas and Islam 73 the vague historical category of influence in favor of one more familiar to philosophers and theologians of every age, and especially those consciously working in a tradition of inquiry, who treasure what they learn as a result of contending with their predecessors’ arguments, even when their inter- locutors lie beyond the reach of actual conversation. Towards an Interfaith, Intercultural Environment The mentoring of Georges Anawati, O.P., at the Institut Dominicain d’Etudes Orientales in Cairo, with the assistance of the Dominican host community there, succeeded in opening my perspectives to see how much Aquinas’ classical synthesis of Christian philosophical theology was already an inter- faith achievement.5 Indeed, were it not for the “Eurocentric” perspectives of western medieval scholarship, his numerous and strategic citations of “Rabbi Moses” Maimonides, of Avicenna [Ibn Sina] and of “the Commenta- tor” Averroës [Ibn Rushd] should have suggested that conclusion long ago. For me, the privilege of working in the foyer created by scholars in Cairo may have offered the Mediterranean perspective needed to appreciate the way in which Aquinas’ intellectual inquiry bridged the divide initially posed by alien faiths, allowing him to discover and exploit cognate strategies for explicating shared perspectives on creation, providence, and often parallel trajectories towards the goal of human fulfillment. Louis Gardet has shown how Aquinas’ debt to the Islamic thinkers whom he knew directly lay largely in the area of conceptual strategies: “Rather than an encounter between Christian and Islamic worlds, the work of Thomas Aquinas bears witness to an encounter between Christian thought and an Islamic philosophy of Hellenistic inspiration, with a few forays into kalâm.”6 Yet it took the extensive work of Louis Gardet and Georges Anawati, epitomized in their ground-breaking Introduction à la Théologie Musulmane in 1948 to call our attention to the ease with which Aquinas negotiated the thought world of Islam.7 Besides the major philosophers noted, Aquinas’ main source for Islamic religious thought was Moses Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed, from which he profited in Latin translation.8So it seems he knew next to nothing about the relation between “the philosophers” [falâsifa] and the religious thinkers whom we identify with kalâm(or “dialectical theology”) and whom Aquinas’ translations led him to classify as “those speaking [kalam] with regard to Islamic law” [loquentes in lege Maurorum]. He cited them mainly as witnesses for a view of the created universe which removed any authentic causality from it, and so our having the requisite knowledge of natural things by that scientiawhich Aquinas (following Aristotle) demanded. And since Aquinas’ primary goal was to show how theologia could be a scientia within the per- spective afforded by a creator, a conclusion of that sort was clearly to be avoided. The philosophers would also require correction in the direction of © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004 74 David B. Burrell free creation of the universe, yet Aquinas had no inclination to identify their works with Islamic teaching, even though he had no access to al-Ghazali’s critique of them nor to Averroës’ rejoinder. This strengthens Gardet’s con- tention that his was not a cultural dialogue; he never attempted to use his interlocutors to explore their Islamic background, but rather regarded them as fellow inquirers into issues metaphysical and theological. What may astound us is the way his ease of access to their works and their conceptual strategies combined with an apparent insouciance regarding the faith tradi- tion which those same works should invariably manifest. Yet that would be quite understandable were he to regard their faith as utterly alien, yet rec- ognize their stellar intellectual capacities for what they were: a common humanity and intellectual acumen would unite what an alien faith could easily divide. What seemed to have given Aquinas such access to the works of thinkers from the Islamicate, including Maimonides, was their synchrony regarding the oneness of God. This primordial revelation of the Hebrew scriptures and the Qur’an crowns Aquinas’ presentation of the doctrine of God in the initial section of his Summa Theologiae, where the apparently unsurprising query— whether God is one? (1.11)—caps the eight previous questions detailing how we might use our intellectual tools to identify God uniquely. As the place- ment of this question, together with its internal development, reveals, it is asking much more than whether there be but one god. The “oneness of God” elaborated there is closer to what the rabbis and imams celebrate as the signal revelation of God to Moses and to Muhammad, respectively. Moreover, the presence of Jews and Muslims to Aquinas’ consciousness may well have directed him to accentuate the oneness of the divinity at the outset of the Summawhich he constructed for purposes of improved pedagogy. An addi- tional motivation, closer to prevailing Dominican concerns, would have been the specter of Manichean dualism stemming from the mission against Albigensians which had fairly defined Dominic’s earliest preaching.9 With regard to the presence of Judaism and Islam, however, it is worth remind- ing ourselves that the novel revelation of Islam only reinforced the original Jewish insistence that God is one, which had figured trenchantly in the early elaboration of Christian doctrine. Why else can we surmise that it took four centuries to clarify the central teaching of Christianity about Jesus (Chalcedon, 451) out of which a full-blown trinitarian doctrine emerged?10 In this respect, then, Aquinas could be said to be beginning at the beginning when he sets out to underscore the oneness of God in the opening questions of the Summa. Yet that strategy also served to link his treatment with the tenet of faith central to both Jews and Muslims, allowing him to appreciate the contributions of a Maimonides or an Ibn Sina as confirming an inquiry shared. As Louis Gardet observed, however, it was primarily in the domain of con- ceptual strategies that Aquinas mined his Islamic predecessors. Yet as he did © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004 Thomas Aquinas and Islam 75 with Aristotle, we shall find him appropriating them to his use, where his use is more determined by the perspectives of scripture and Catholic teach- ing than simple philosophical coherence. For while Aquinas was scrupulous about proper argument—“lest weak arguments seem to give plausibility to the other side of the debate”—his sensitivity to what Robert Sokolowski has dubbed “the distinction” of creator from creation dominated his project of showing how theologiacould be a scientiawithin the perspective afforded by a creator.11For whereas Plato had suggested some facsimile of a creator, Aris- totle had presumed an eternal universe in a way that ruled out any question of origins. So the work of Moses Maimonides would prove especially fruit- ful, while that of Avicenna required extensive modification, though his central distinction between essence and existence would prove utterly strate- gic, as we shall see.12 Resolving a Standing Aporia of Aristotle The most complete map of these conceptual alternations has been provided by Edward Booth, in his Aristotelian Aporetic Ontology in Islamic and Christ- ian Writers.13 The aporia in question can be made evident quite easily: Aris- totle insisted that the existing individual offered the paradigm for substance—that which is, yet every time we characterize a substance we do so by using a formula. The structure of that formula (or definition) is meant to display the matter-form composition of substance, yet in such a way as to express the species and not the individual. So individuals end up being nothing more than instantiations of species, and the primacy of “first sub- stance” gives way to what seems to be the subject of any discourse: “second substance”. Tracing this recurrent aporia through the subsequent commen- tary tradition yields little progress in resolving it, and even offers some explanation why the earliest interpretation of Aristotle’s Metaphysicstended in a Neoplatonic direction. Indeed, subsequent presentations of portions of Plotinus’ Enneads as the “Theology of Aristotle”, and of selections from Proclus as the Liber de causis (thought by many to represent a development of Aristotle), confirmed that direction.14 One had to wait until the sixth century for John Philoponus to recover something of the more properly Aris- totelian synthesis of Alexander of Aphrodisia (late second century), yet the urge to syncretism favored the earlier Neoplatonic readings into the golden age of Islamic philosophers. Al-Kindi, as a believer, “found the categories of Proclus, modified in a monotheistic sense, very suited to express his religious sense of dependence of the world on God” (p. 90), while al-Farabi went on to develop the emanation scheme which furnished the hallmark of classical Islamic philosophy. Yet the translation of Aristotelian texts by the early thirteenth century led medieval thinkers like Albert to grapple directly with that aporia. He resolved it in a “logico-emanationist” direction, however, relying on Boethius’ “iden- © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004 76 David B. Burrell tification of universal with individual” (p. 175) to develop “structures [which] seemed to make the ultimate individual, logically (and emanation- ally) conceived, identical with the individual, physically conceived” (p. 192). Aresolution of this sort effectively turned “Metaphysics VII, which is really a record of metaphysical uncertainty, [into] a subject for systematic and ratio- nal exposition” (pp. 195–196). So with regard to the recurring aporia, one would have to class Albert with the commentators, seeking to resolve a dialectically fruitful tension into a logically acceptable teaching. Booth credits pseudo-Dionysius’ treatise on the Divine Names, which he had studied “attentively” with Albert, with directing Aquinas away from Albert by showing that “essecould not be limited to a single radiation or formality amongst many from the divine first cause” (p. 204). His final chapter recounts how Aquinas attained “the superior viewpoint of esse, [and so was] capable of appreciating the individual according to any and every aspect, [thereby] liberating Aristotelian ontology from is aporetic hesitance” (p. 263). Which is to say that Aquinas only succeeded in resolving the original aporia of individual/formula for substance by raising the entire discussion to a new level: the presence of the One as creator, bestowing esse to each individual, retained proper Aristotelian respect for formal structures while offering such immediacy to the creator/creature relation that the status of individuals as paradigms for substance was clearly vindicated. Arecent masterful study, Substantiality and Participation in Thomas Aquinas, by Rudi teVelde, shows how pseudo-Dionysius’ way of employing the lan- guage of esse allowed Aquinas to move beyond the accepted Platonic view of a plurality of forms by stipulating that “the perfection of being [esse] vir- tually includes every other perfection”.15 This form of analysis could main- tain “that God possesses the fullness of perfection in virtue of his being alone” (p. 256), since esse could not be a form like other forms, and identi- fying God’s as esse subsistens not only distinguishes the creator from every- thing else (that is, all creatures), but shows why such a one might freely allow its essence to be participated in its act of creating. Only God can create, Aquinas insists, for “producing existence absolutely, not merely of this thing or of that sort of thing, belongs to the meaning of creation....[And] among all effects the most universal is existence itself, which should accordingly be the proper effect of the most universal cause, which is God” (ST1.45.5). The atmosphere here is thoroughly Neoplatonic, though appropriately “cor- rected”, as we have seen, by Dionysius. So the final resolution of Aristotle’s standing aporia, itself a legacy from his own formation under Plato, will require an adroit set of Platonic strategies, notably an account of creation by way of esse which will bring participation as its inevitable corollary. Now it will be an Islamic transformation of Proclus, translated from Arabic into Latin as the Liber de Causis, which will offer Aquinas the strategies required to articulate the creator as cause of being. © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004 Thomas Aquinas and Islam 77 Critical Assistance in Articulating a Cause of Being As his commentary on this seminal text (which he recognized to be an Islamic adaptation of Proclus) displays, however, the Neoplatonic scheme it followed and propagated could hardly on the face of it expound a free creator. So Aquinas’ re-directing of the Arabic text, Kitâb al-khaîr[Book of the Pure Good], will prove to be as significant (or more) as the particular re- casting of Proclus by the anonymous Muslim writer. Yet the fact remains that Aquinas did fasten on this work as key to his endeavor to incorporate a free creator into the Hellenic heritage, just as he insisted on employing the term “emanation” for creation, even after removing and gutting the scheme of necessary emanation enthusiastically adopted by the Islamic thinkers, al- Farabi and Ibn Sina, ostensibly to articulate the revelation of a unitary creator of the universe. That same scheme, trenchantly attacked by al-Ghazali and Moses Maimonides in the name of revelation as impugning a free creator and so rendering revelation itself incredible, was rejected by Aquinas for mediating the act of creation.16So another way to cast our net is to ask why Aquinas still felt that emanationoffered the best metaphor for the sui generis activity of creation, even of a free creator. The need for a fresh perspective becomes evident once we remind ourselves that Aquinas realized full well that none of Aristotle’s four causes could describe the act of creating, notwithstanding his celebratory identification of Aristotle’s prime mover with the liturgical formula: “quod est Deus per omnia saecula saeculorum” (closing his commentary on the Physics). Indeed, his occasional use of “efficient cause” to identify the creator of all is manifestly “loose” or “improper”, and only intended to contrast this causality with others even less apt. For Aristotle’s efficient causealways presupposes a subject upon which to work. So Aquinas needed a conception of causality not available from Aristotle, yet intimated (as we shall see) in the Liber de causis; indeed, a cause-of-being. Furthermore, one of the crucial arguments opposing free creation to necessary emanation had been that the axiomatic model used to propose it (and make it necessary) failed to distinguish the originator from all that originated from it, since an axiom differs from other premises only by its prominent place in the deduc- tive order. Yet “the distinction” of creator from creation proves notoriously difficult to articulate, as Robert Sokolowski has shown so ably in his God of Faith and Reason.17Indeed, customary western attempts to separate creatures from the creator falsify the relation as effectively as some “eastern” attempts to collapse them. Fear of pantheism has moved western thinkers to parse the distinction as a separation, yet I shall argue that this strategy has diluted the specific assertions of Jewish-Christian-Muslim faith in a creator, so demot- ing the creator to “the biggest things around” and promoting a secular ethos.18 © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004 78 David B. Burrell Yet affirming that shared faith in a free creator will entail philosophical effort, and watching Aquinas adapt the Liber de causis to that end might encourage us to similar efforts. Allow me first to identify those who have helped me to the point of appreciating what the Liber de causis must have meant for Aquinas, and how we might be enabled to make similar intellec- tual moves ourselves. I have already mentioned Sokolowski’s careful and extended inquiry into “the distinction” of creator from creation, to articulate its sui generischaracter. Atrenchant remark by Bernard McGinn at our con- ference on “God and Creation” (in which Sokolowski participated) alerted me to the partial and polemical way in which I was then (1989) opposing free creation to emanation, while Sara Grant’s exploring Shankara’s use of nonduality to probe “the distinction” which Aquinas proposed began to dispel my fears of pantheism.19 Still more recently, and doubtless in con- junction with John Milbank and Catherine Pickstock’s “radically orthodox” proposals for reading the Christian tradition (including Aquinas), I have become fascinated with two thinkers thus far relatively marginal to philo- sophical theology: Scottus Eriugena and Meister Eckhart.20 Their affinity with Neoplatonic vehicles of thought to help articulate “the distinction” not as a separation has led me to find them to be better guides to what Aquinas was trying to articulate in a “cause-of-being” (and hence “the distinction”) than what has often passed as canonical Thomist interpretation. And the inquiry into Aquinas’ use of the Liber de causiswill, I hope, indicate why this is the case. Let us begin by posing a question which I have hitherto been content simply to deconstruct: how is it that the One, whose proper effect is things’ very being, effects that? Given the precision of Aquinas—there can be no processwhereby things come to be—it is easy to deconstruct: there is no how; coming to be takes no time, creation involves no change(in Aristotle’s sense) from one thing to another, requiring a substratum. But is there then no way at all to articulate what happens in the infinite shift from nothing to some- thing? We could, as I have, simply reiterate Aquinas’ insistence that the “proper effect of a creator is the to-be of things”, but that tells us very little indeed; and should we parse it as “bestowing being on things”, that way of speaking (we shall see) falsifies the relation as well. Here is where the Liber de causis, as Aquinas adapts it, may well lend a hand: think of creating as an ordering—a salient feature of the emanation scheme, for things come to be according to their kind, whether we are following Genesis or Aristotle! Exist- ing, of course, is not a kind, but whatever is, is inanimate, animate, or intel- ligent, in the sense that something may simply exist, or exist as a living being, or as an understanding being. Now this fact of categorization (or levels of formal cause[Aristotle]) elicits two opposing pictures. One is additive: being +self-motion +intentional; and hence subtractive as well: taking away intel- ligence will yield vegetative, removing that yields simple inanimate being. The other retains the sense of modes of existing, regarding them as ascend- © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004 Thomas Aquinas and Islam 79 ing levels as well, but relates these levels not additively but virtually. That is, the being of inanimate things is regarded as restricted, those capable of growth and/or of self-motion more ample, and those also endowed with understanding and intention yet more fully realizing the reaches of being. Both pictures are present in the Liber de causis as well as in Aquinas, yet the effort to incorporate a free creator into the scheme of categorization will inevitably privilege the virtual picture. The tension surfaces quite dramati- cally (for those who can unveil drama in ontology!) when Aquinas proposes to identify the creator God uniquely as the One whose very essence is to-be. This succinct formula offers simplenessas the “formal feature” securing “the distinction” by singling out God in the only way possible—without turning God into god, the “biggest thing around”, and so effectively eclipsing God’s divinity as well as “the distinction”.21Yet we must meet the prima facieobjec- tion that what is simple is ontologically “lower” than what is composed or complex, much as animate things are more complex than inanimate. He does this by reversing the picture itself, proposing that the One whose essence is to-be (and so can cause all else to be) should not be conceived as “mere being” but as the fullness of being, so that simplenesshere denotes plenitude rather than a lack.22 But how can we execute such an about-face? What makes one see (as in Wittgenstein’s duck/rabbit example) that the virtual picture of levels of being must take precedence over the additive? I suspect that the effort to incorporate and properly articulate a creator into one’s metaphysics will decide it, but there are supporting arguments as well. The most telling, I believe, is one derived from Aristotle’s argument to the unity of substantial forms, captured in the maxim: the being of living things is to live.23Indeed, contrary to the prima faciesense of the Liber de causis, the levels of being are not separable or subtractible. Take away life from a living thing and it remains inanimate for a very short while; indeed, what is left begins to decompose into elements and is soon no longer identifiable as one thing. This fact supports the virtual picture: being expresses itself in different ways. Moreover, if “higher levels” were simply added, what would make the resul- tant being one sort of thing? This is what Aristotle meant by the “unity of substantial form”. Moreover, a closer reading of the Liber de causis reveals just such a picture. The bestowal of being [esse] by the first cause is an orderly bestowal, yielding an inherent order structuring each existing thing so that higher levels are implicit in lower. Indeed, were this not the case, were being not an abundant source expressing itself in different ways, then existing would have to be pictured (as many do) as something added to a potential thing, as in “actualizing a possible state of affairs”. But that picture is doubly redundant, for it presumes (1) “potential things”, that is, an order or struc- ture present before something exists; and (2) that existing is a feature (or “accident”) which can be added to a non-existing “thing”. These two © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004 80 David B. Burrell incoherencies are in fact one, but it is instructive to see how existingmust be construed as a feature once one adopts “possible things”. Ironically enough, so-called “existential” readings of Aquinas, by their description of esseas “act of existing”, can unwittingly turn esse[to-be] into a feature. It is true, of course, that by identifying esseas actAquinas expressly intended to eliminate that move, suggested by Avicenna’s terminology of existing as an “accident [‘arad]”. Yet his own expression of “receiving esse” could subvert his own intentions as well.24So how can we escape these traps? The Liber de causis offers a way: to see creation as the orderly bestowal of things’ being, which adopts the metaphor of emanation and sees existing as a participation in being by virtue of the One whose very essence is to-be, and so alone can make things participate in being. And as a way of spelling out the metaphor of participation, we are invited to see it as an order inher- ent in each thing. So existingis no more something added toa thing than learn- ing is something acquired, like a degree after one’s name. The degree is acquired, of course, as a step in credentialing, but learning (as Socrates insisted) is really recollection, as we utilize others to hone the faculties already present in our being intentional persons. What comes with our mode of being is an ordered set of capacities, which stand to be perfected and need help to do so, but when perfected are so from within. Moreover, these capac- ities in intentional beings desire their perfection, that is (in Liber de causis terms) they are so shaped from within as to strive to return to their proper good, their source. Such is the power of a creation-centered picture of being: virtual(not additive), and directionaltowards its source. This picture is com- pleted in fully intentional (or free) agents, whose freedom can be expressed as a “hunger for the good” and so best seen as a response rather than an ini- tiative.25 Such a picture underscores the antinomies which Socrates had already exposed in the alternative view of freedom as “doing what I want to do”, which can so easily mean slavery to multiple desires; and also express Nietzsche’s model of self-creation as exactly what one must undertake without a creator. The fullness of the act of existing is displayed in its order, much as the effi- cacy of any of our actions is assured by the ordering it displays towards its goal. We focus authentically, not by eliminating all but one feature, but by aligning all the relevant features in a proper order, so that the effect is orches- trated. Notice that we cannot escape metaphors here, for there is no given ordering. Revelation assists by allowing us to name “the Good”. And further by providing us with some strategies of ordering—the Torah, the example of Jesus, the Qur’an—yet here again, discernment is always needed, and tra- ditions can subvert as well as elaborate a given revelation or way. The ur- pattern derives from creation, as conceived by the Liber de causis: orderly emanation from the One so that the intentional portion of creation desires to return to its source. Moreover, such an order is not imposed but inherent, as existing is not an added feature but an inherent gift. This is seen most fully, © Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2004