According To The Teaching of St. Thomas Aquinas
To understand the meaning and the force of these words, we must recall a beautiful doctrine borrowed by the Angel of the Schools from the Greek Fathers, particularly from St. Dionysius, who had himself taken it from the writings of Plato.
According to Plato's teachings, and they coincide on this point with the teachings of Faith, every created being is a participation in the Divine being, and every created perfection is in some manner a participation in infinite perfection. Thus our nature is a participation in the Divine perfection; the light of our intelligence is a participation in the uncreated intelligence; our life, a participation in the life of God. Briefly, every particle of goodness, of perfection, of being in any creature whatsoever, is a participation in the being and goodness of God.
We must not conceive this communication of God to His creatures as a division of the Divine essence, just as one divides and distributes the parts of a fruit; rather, the Divine essence preserves its unity and fullness. Nor should we regard it as an emanation properly so-called, or a flowing out, an effusion of the Divine substance as rivulets flow from a single source, or as a warm body sheds its rays and heat upon everything that is near. The Divine goodness externizes itself by producing beings like unto itself, yet without any diminution of the Divine substance; for only its likeness is imparted to creatures. The process is akin to the impression of the seal on the wax, without any communication of the former's substance to the latter.
Hence this participation of creatures in the Divine goodness is not any community of being and perfection. Such a doctrine is pantheistic. Creatures have their own being, and their own goodness, which is at once the intrinsic and the formal cause, making them what they are. They are related to God inasmuch as God is their extrinsic cause, and this in a threefold sense, namely, the ideal according to which they have been created; the efficient cause; and the final and ultimate cause of their creation.
Not without reason then did the Fathers, and, under their influence, St. Thomas, speak of creatures as beings by participation, and of their perfections as participated perfections. In so speaking they had a twofold purpose; first, clearly to establish the profound difference between the Creator and creature, or rather the abyss which separates them; second, to impress upon men the fact, that every created being essentially depends on God as upon its exemplar and its efficient cause of existence. Indeed, the very words, participated being, signify a being that is finite, limited, restricted; for participation in anything, a family heritage, for example, means to take a part and not have entire possession. The same words further imply a borrowed being, a contingent being, a being proceeding from another being, and essentially depending upon some extrinsic cause. From the very fact that a thing is not being itself in all its plenitude—the ocean of being—but a mere rivulet or stream, it follows that what it possesses of being is not its own in virtue even of its essence, but comes to it from without, just as every tiny stream supposes a generating spring or fountain.
To understand the meaning and the force of these words, we must recall a beautiful doctrine borrowed by the Angel of the Schools from the Greek Fathers, particularly from St. Dionysius, who had himself taken it from the writings of Plato.
According to Plato's teachings, and they coincide on this point with the teachings of Faith, every created being is a participation in the Divine being, and every created perfection is in some manner a participation in infinite perfection. Thus our nature is a participation in the Divine perfection; the light of our intelligence is a participation in the uncreated intelligence; our life, a participation in the life of God. Briefly, every particle of goodness, of perfection, of being in any creature whatsoever, is a participation in the being and goodness of God.
We must not conceive this communication of God to His creatures as a division of the Divine essence, just as one divides and distributes the parts of a fruit; rather, the Divine essence preserves its unity and fullness. Nor should we regard it as an emanation properly so-called, or a flowing out, an effusion of the Divine substance as rivulets flow from a single source, or as a warm body sheds its rays and heat upon everything that is near. The Divine goodness externizes itself by producing beings like unto itself, yet without any diminution of the Divine substance; for only its likeness is imparted to creatures. The process is akin to the impression of the seal on the wax, without any communication of the former's substance to the latter.
Hence this participation of creatures in the Divine goodness is not any community of being and perfection. Such a doctrine is pantheistic. Creatures have their own being, and their own goodness, which is at once the intrinsic and the formal cause, making them what they are. They are related to God inasmuch as God is their extrinsic cause, and this in a threefold sense, namely, the ideal according to which they have been created; the efficient cause; and the final and ultimate cause of their creation.
Not without reason then did the Fathers, and, under their influence, St. Thomas, speak of creatures as beings by participation, and of their perfections as participated perfections. In so speaking they had a twofold purpose; first, clearly to establish the profound difference between the Creator and creature, or rather the abyss which separates them; second, to impress upon men the fact, that every created being essentially depends on God as upon its exemplar and its efficient cause of existence. Indeed, the very words, participated being, signify a being that is finite, limited, restricted; for participation in anything, a family heritage, for example, means to take a part and not have entire possession. The same words further imply a borrowed being, a contingent being, a being proceeding from another being, and essentially depending upon some extrinsic cause. From the very fact that a thing is not being itself in all its plenitude—the ocean of being—but a mere rivulet or stream, it follows that what it possesses of being is not its own in virtue even of its essence, but comes to it from without, just as every tiny stream supposes a generating spring or fountain.
