Customer Reviews

Saint Thomas Aquinas: "The Dumb Ox"

5 star:		(28)
4 star:		(10)
3 star:		(7)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(4)

 

 

I read this book as a sophomore at Georgetown in a class on St. Thomas taught by Fr. James V. Schall, S.J. (whose own books are well worth reading). The power of Chesterton's words overwhelmed me--here was a delightful man who was so connected to rock-bottom reality that he could shape metaphors whose insights dazzled and multiplied for page upon page.

Two or three times Chesterton penned a sentence in this book that literally made me wince in pain; not because I disliked what he wrote, but because the sentence overwhelmed me with the truth it conveyed so powerfully (and perhaps also because I knew I would never in my life write such a magnificent sentence).

A Southern Baptist by upbringing, I had long before college decided that Christianity was useful in keeping the stupid masses in line, but we smart folks had science and didn't need such myths. After two years of reading in the "Great Books" at college, this arrogance had faded, and I began to toy with the idea that Christianity was far more reasonable and even noble than I had thought. But I wasn't sure whether it was in fact true.

Then in this book Chesterton reiterated Aristotle's classic philosophical argument that reason tells us there must be a First Mover which set the world in motion. Chesterton added that it is reasonable to deduce that a First Mover must have willed to make that first move, and a being with a will is a person; so the First Mover is a personal God.

That logical point hit me hard, and changed my life. After a few more years of intense reading (and almost as intense procrastinating), I was received into the Roman Catholic Church--the same Church into which Chesterton's prodigious, joyful intellect impelled him. (He had been raised in the Church of England.)

The other great books by Chesterton are Orthodoxy, St. Francis of Assisi, and The Everlasting Man, which turned a young skeptic named C.S. Lewis into a Christian. Lewis later wrote, and I am proof, that "a young man who wishes to remain an atheist cannot be too careful what he reads."

You have been warned.

I first read this book 5 years ago when taking an undergraduate course in mediaeval philosophy. At that time I was only passingly familiar with Chesterton and, despite faithful attendence in class, only noddingly familiar with Aquinas. Since that time I have come to understand both men in more depth, and since that time this little book has grown and shimmered until, much to my surprise, it has became one of my favourite books of all.

All of the usual caveats about Chesterton's writing apply here: he cannot resist a digression, he cannot resist an alliterative allusion, he cannot resist a pun. He is so full of life that he is constantly threatening to spin out of control. He is not a scholar, he is not writing a sober appraisal, he is probably not sure of most of the biographical details of his subject (in his own autobiography, which has much the same candid dearth of dates and details, he commented that if he had denied such careful treatment to St. Thomas and St. Francis how could he justify it for himself?).

In spite of these defects, the book is a triumph. Toast it with your best wine. Chesterton, for me, is the embodiment of "A Man in Full"; he is the polar opposite of C.S. Lewis' "Men without Chests". He is so full of good sense, penetrating insight, sound moral judgement, and the joy of life that it is all spilling out in every direction. Anyone who has read his book of literary criticism on Dickens will understand what I mean: this is criticism in an old key; it is appreciative criticism; it is an encounter with a writer by an entire man, and not just by a theory. It is wonderfully refreshing. I don't know of anyone writing today in a similar vein.

He brings all of his larger-than-life presence to bear on this account of the life (sort of) and thought of one of history's great minds. And on just what aspect of Thomas' thought does he focus? In one diabolically politically incorrect section near the end of the book he bellows out that "on a map like the mind of Aquinas the mind of Luther was barely a speck", and I'm sure that he would hasten to add that his little book suffers the same ignoble comparison. There is a great deal to Thomas that he, of necessity, leaves out. But what he does include is very astutely chosen, for he understands the basic structure of Thomas' thought and emphasizes the essentials. Thus there is a chapter on Thomas' argument with the Manicheans and his affirmation of the goodness of the world. He treats with great aplomb Thomas' notion of "being" and its relation to God. He does great honor to Thomas' mode of argumentation, to his sober balance and fair treatment of opponents. He is appreciative of the devotional side of Thomas, which does not come through explicitly in his philosophical writings but is important for an understanding of the man.

I suppose it must be granted that the book is as much about Chesterton as it is about Aquinas. Those wanting a more straight-forward treatment should seek out one of Josef Pieper's books on Aquinas. But if you have any adventurous spirit, by all means read this book. It is written by a man who loves and understands his subject in his very bones, and who brings his subject to life in a way that is most uncanny. Five stars.

Reading Chesterton is a little like learning a foreign language - persistence is the key. At first he's difficult to understand, but for the reader that continues, eventually the light goes on and everything makes sense.

It's amazing that Chesterton was able to pack so much into so little of a book. This brilliant introduction to Aquinas should be required reading on all college campuses.

Chesterton admits that the book is a biography. His hope is that it will introduce readers to Aquinas' philosophy and therefore lead them into his theology. The theology, Chesterton also admits, is the one thing that he has left out of the book.

Instead, Chesterton spends a great deal of time comparing Aquinas to St. Francis of Assisi - a comparison which at first might seem quite odd. In classic Chesterton style, he demonstrates that the two friars were perhaps more similar than they were different.

Each generation, Chesterton writes, is converted by the saint who contradicts it most. Therefore, argues Chesterton, the 20th century is clutching at Thomism because it has neglected reason.

"...as the eighteenth century thought itself the age of reason, and the nineteenth century thought itself the age of common sense, the twentieth century cannot as yet even manage to think itself anything but the age of uncommon nonsense," writes G.K.

I was particularly intrigued by Chesterton's introduction of Martin Luther late in the book and his argument that the quarrel between the Augustinians and the Dominicans led, in part, to the Protestant Reformation.

The brilliance of this book is both its simplicity and the Chestertonian gems discovered within. Modern readers, familiar with Pope John Paul II's "Theology of the Body", will note the connections between Aquinas' Incarnational theology, Chesterton's common sense, and the work of John Paul II.

There is a clarity of purpose to Chesterton that one can't but admire. His agenda was always perfectly clear: to find a certainty that would bring sanity and proportion. Although his cheerful, reasonable, and very English religiosity couldn't be more different from the tortured, violent, and very Russian faith of Dostoevsky, they both had the same origin: the dread that if there is no God all is permitted and that then suicide is the only desirable alternative.

As described here, St. Thomas Aquinas is the very embodiment of that Chestertonian ideal, a large bull of man with a quick intelligence (like Chesterton himself), whose certainty about the fundamentals (the existence of God, the desirableness of life, the validity of moral law, the authority of the Catholic Church) gave him a peace of mind, a sturdiness of purpose, and an almost child-like simplicity.

I don't share Chesterton's metaphysics (I'm an atheist myself), but he is often more correct in his appreciations than many secular writers. For instance, reviewers in this page have criticized him for dismissing Islam and Buddhism, but what he says about them is perfectly accurate: Islam is theologically unsophisticated (the Koran emphasizes that the reward for abiding by its rules is a paradise peopled by "bashful virgins" and other perfectly earthly delights) and Buddhism is nihilistic (one should seek to extinguish all desire, and Nirvana can be reached only when one has ceased to want even that). Whether those are faults or virtues is up to the reader's own philosophy.

I recommend this book as an eloquent exposition of the antithesis to existentialist angst, and as such it should be of interest to the religious and the secular alike.

This may seem like a book for insiders, those of the Catholic faith or those with an interest in Catholicism or even in Christianity. However, rather than addressing the choir, Mr. Chesterton's book on St. Thomas is aimed at the non-Christian or at Christians with little experience in theology or philosophy. Written in troubled times (the book was first published in 1933 and there are passing references to Hitler, Mussolini, and the Great Depression), the author manages to sketch the life of St. Thomas and at the same time reveal how Thomistic philosophy is relevant to curing the ills of the modern era. Readers may be surprised to find that the complexity of St. Thomas' thought is rooted in simplicity. As Chesterton says, St. Thomas argues "for a common sense which would even now commend itself to most of the common people. He is arguing for the popular proverbs that seeing is believing; that the proof of the pudding is in the eating; that a man cannot jump down his own throat or deny the fact of his own existence." To any reader accustomed to modern philosophies and ideas which make no sense, St. Thomas is like a breath of fresh air. Though the work is devotional, Chesterton honors his subject by avoiding sentimentalism and keeping to an equally direct, no-nonsense approach. Referring to St. Thomas' combativeness, Chesterton says, "This [combativeness], in his case, certainly did not mean bitterly or spitefully or uncharitably; ...as a matter of fact, it is generally the man who is not ready to argue [intelligently], who is ready to sneer." Following in St. Thomas' footsteps, Chesterton is disposed to argue intelligently, but never sneer. The author respects the reader by not watering down St. Thomas' philosophy or his own beliefs or by patronizing the views of others. In sum, Chesterton does not sacrifice respect for his readers in order to achieve common sense simplicity (unlike authors who boldly refer to readers in their book titles as dummies or idiots). Mr. Chesterton also wrote a biographical sketch of St. Francis of Assisi before he wrote the book on St. Thomas. It's worthwhile to read the sketch of St. Francis first since Chesterton uses a comparison with St. Francis to begin his discussion of St. Thomas. Certain themes in the biography of St. Francis also recur in the book on St. Thomas, making knowledge of the prior book repeatedly valuable.

Chesterton does a masterful job of explaining the essence of Thomas's philosophy, and also gives a good sense of the times he lived in and the opposition that he had to overcome. Thomism is now seen as the epitome of Catholic Orthodoxy, but it was not certainly not treated that way during Thomas's lifetime for reasons that Chesteron makes masterfully clear. He also makes an excellent case for the importance of intellect in religion and the possibility of an optimistic approach to Catholicism. As other reviewers have noted, he does tend to make sweeping pronouncements about subjects he doesn't understand very well; I, for one, think he doesn't appreciate Nietzsche or St. Augustine any better than he does Eastern religions. These aree minor irritations, however, which don't detract much from the overall accomplishment of the book.

This is my first experience with Chesterton's work, and I now plan to read his work on St. Francis as well. It is easy to see how this book could change someone's life. I am a non-Catholic and probably even a non-Christian, but for those who are able to listen closely to a voice of faith, Chesterton is a powerful advocate.

There are several considerable weaknesses to the book. The most irritating is its smug dismissveness toward Islam, Buddhism, even Calvinism, all of which get packaged together under the bulky catch-all phrase "Oriental pessimism." Islam in particular is insulted with the description "a simple creed for simple men." But every vice has its bright side, and I admit that it was refreshing to read an author who bluntly states an opinion about ultimate truths without the contemporary p.c. blandness which refuses to make decisions of any kind about ultimate truths.

Another weakness is that the book tends to ramble. There presumably isn't enough information about Aquinas to make a typical linear biography possible, but at times Chesterton jumps around so much into historical digressions that the reader loses focus. Also, many of his analogies are rather dated, and some stand desperately in need of explanatory footnotes for the non-British reader.

However, the strengths of the book are numerous. I must confess to having viewed Aquinas previously as a bit of a bone-dry pedant, a powerful and important intellect but still basically a dull company man. I have read numerous brief sketches of Aquinas' life, but Chesterton's is the first to shatter my preconceptions about the Angelic Doctor. He accomplishes this the way every good biographer knows-- return the well-known fossilized data of your subject's life to their initial _dramatic_ form. From young Thomas' controversial decision to become a mendicant friar, to his status as the laughing-stock of fellow students for his beer-barrel physique and silent demeanor, to the recognition of his intelligence by the sparkling mentor Albertus Magnus, on up to the amusing scene at St. Louis' dinner and the final strife with Siger of Brabant, I felt that Chesterotn's material was worthy of Hollywood (which, of course, would botch it horribly).

Read this book if you have any interest in philosophy whatsoever. For practicing Catholics I imagine it would speak even more to the heart than it did for me, which was already a great deal.

I began reading Chesterton only recently and decided to take the advice of Dale Ahlquist (of the American Chesterton Society) on which books of his to read as a neophyte. The first I read was "Ballad of the White Horse" and as a fan of epic poetry, I thought it was lovely, enjoyable, and profound.

The Dumb Ox was the second Chesterton book I tried, and to be quite honest, I was disappointed. Having completed the book, I felt as if it had made no appreciable impact on my knowledge of Aquinas at all. My understanding of the Great Doctor was superficial before reading the book, and it remains so now that I've finished. Chesterton's style was perhaps what turned me off. Every line seemed a witticism; every sentence a paradoxical inversion of the previous one. As I slogged through, I stopped many times to ask myself--"What exactly is he saying here?" And after re-reading the paragraph a couple times, I was still at a loss. Furthermore, the occasional referencing of now-obscure early 20th century churchmen and scholars helped make the book something of a period piece.

Of course, I haven't ruled out the possibility that my difficulty with this book could be due to my own dullness. I tend to favor works of this type that are more straight-forward with grandiloquent language kept to a minimum. The Dumb Ox seemed too complex and deep to instruct someone looking for a quick introduction to Aquinas. At the same time, it was too bereft of detail to satisfy someone already possessed of a background in Aquinan thought.

On the positive side, I did appreciate Chesterton's comparisons of Aquinas and St. Francis of Assisi, as well as his characterization of the Protestant Reformation as the Augustinian reaction to Aquinan Scholasticism. The book also succeeded in making me want to seek out a more straight-ahead take on St. Thomas, or perhaps dive into the Summa head-first. It also hasn't dampened my enthusiasm for Chesterton, and I'll soon be moving on to another one of the books on Mr. Ahlquist's list.

G.K. Chesterton is one of my favorite writers. St. Thomas Aquinas is one of my favorite saints. So how could I not love this book?

What is nice about this book is that it is easy to read. Most books on St. Thomas Aquinas tend to go deep into St. Thomas' theology. This book, however, offers a fun biography of the saint, touching upon Aquinas' genius and explaining the controversies in which he engaged. G.K. Chesterton, ever the gifted story teller, recounts many of the interesting incidents Aquinas faced in his life, answering many of the questions we might have about him. For example, how did Aquinas, considered the greatest theologian the Catholic Church has ever produced, get the knick-name "the Dumb Ox."

Chesterton knows, and Chesterton tells, holding the reader in suspense as he builds up the story. This is just one of many interesting incidents in Aquinas' life Chesterton touches upon.

This is a perfect book for someone like me: a lapsed but still interested Catholic who could never keep Aquinas and Augustine straight. Chesterton packs more theology and philsophy into this slim volume, and makes it much more accessible, than any massive tome on same subject. I don't think I've ever read any thing that combines brevity and challenging ideas like this book. It's confirms my belief that all such books should be written by intelligent laymen instead of academic specialists. And he's a marvelous stylist, to boot, with a devilish, droll wit in his voice. The best compliment is that this book has now motivated me to read the Dumb Ox himself, and I've already picked up two volumes of his works. (As a little sidenote: it makes a neat companion to Eco's The Name of the Rose. I ended up reading both together during the Holidays, Chesterton in the morning, Eco at night, and they dovetail in all sorts of intriguing ways, each shedding monastic light on the other. If you're looking for a fun reading project, give it a try.)