Introduction

The Bible opens with the words: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Gn 1:1). The revelation of creation is the gateway to Sacred Scripture. Similarly, in the Niceano-Constantinopolitan Creed, Christians begin by confessing: “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.” Here too, the profession of faith in creation comes at the beginning of the mysteries of faith. This primacy underscores the essential place the doctrine of creation holds in the revealed message. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church states:

Catechesis on creation is of major importance. It concerns the very foundations of human and Christian life: for it makes explicit the response of the Christian faith to the basic question that men of all times have asked themselves: “Where do we come from?” “Where are we going?” “What is our origin?” “What is our end?” “Where does everything that exists come from and where is it going?” (CCC no. 282)

This paragraph sets out several dimensions of the theology of creation. First, reflection on creation is not limited to inquiry into the origins of all things but also includes an orientation towards a destiny, that is, towards an end. Knowing where we come from is essential to knowing where we are going and, thus, to being rightly oriented in all that we do. Second, the question concerning creation is something human before it is Christian. Every human being wonders about their origin and their end. Therefore, theology must incorporate philosophical reflection concerning this subject. Finally, the passage from the Catechism evokes the existence of all things, going beyond the destiny of humankind alone to embrace the universe as a whole.

These three dimensions are present from the very beginning of the Biblical teaching concerning creation. First, Scripture situates the doctrine of creation within the vistas of salvation history, where the creative act is “the foundation of ‘all God’s saving plans’” (CCC no. 280). In other words, the sacred writers address creation in order to situate the destiny of man in search of salvation. Secondly, Scripture dialogues with secular wisdom, with some of its later human authors being steeped in Greek philosophy. For example, the Book of Wisdom states that “the greatness and beauty of creatures make them, by analogy, contemplate their Author” (Wis 13:5), echoing the philosophical quest for the principle of the universe. Third, several passages in Scripture bear witness to the idea that salvation will extend, through man, to the entire universe. Thus, at the end of the Gospel of St. Mark, Jesus commands his disciples: “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to all creation” (Mk 16:15). And St. Paul expresses, in strong terms, the need that all creation be saved: “Creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God” (Rom 8:19). Human sin has cosmic repercussions, as does the salvation that God brings. And the Bible ends with the vision of a new creation: “I saw a new heaven and a new earth” (Rev 21:1).

Throughout the centuries, philosophers have reflected on the origin and end of all things, and, aware of this wealth of contemplation, we must ask ourselves what specific contribution the theology of creation makes. Therefore, let us begin by situating the theology of creation within the vast philosophical enterprise of reflection on the origin and end of all things (Section 1). Next, we will take up the theology of creation itself by addressing how it was revealed in Scripture and deepened by the Church Fathers (Section 2). Then, we will present the theology of creation based on the teachings of St. Thomas Aquinas, a thirteenth-century Dominican doctor who greatly influenced the magisterium and theology,{1} extending this reflection to the present day. This journey will be divided into several themes: the definition of creation (Section 3), the debate surrounding the beginning of the world (Section 4), and the order of creation (Section 5).

I. Creation: A Philosophical and Theological Truth

Is creation a truth accessible to reason? Or is it something that can only be known through divine revelation? To answer this question, two facts are indisputable: philosophy has devoted much thought to the origin of the universe, and Sacred Scripture reveals more deeply the nature of the Creator and His plan for the world. Nevertheless, the scope of what is accessible to reason alone has often been a subject of debate. St. Justin, a second-century Church Father who was a philosopher before converting to Christianity, asserts that Plato had read Genesis (Justin, Apology for the Christians, 1.59.1–5). Indeed, Plato’s Timaeus describes the genesis of the universe by a Craftsman (called the “Demiurge”) who shapes the world from an eternal model. According to Justin, the similarity between this description and Genesis can only be explained by Plato having been influenced by Sacred Scripture. However, as we will see, the Platonic vision conflicts with Christian faith on several points.

However, Plato is not the only philosopher to have sought the principle of the universe. The very purpose of philosophy is to seek the principles of what exists. Aristotle formalized this search in the work entitled (by his successors) Metaphysics.

The Theological Search for the First Principle

Philosophers grasped the existence of a principle of the universe and sketched out its nature. Revelation takes up and fulfills the efforts of Greek philosophy, which is like a steppingstone to revelation.

The Human Capacity to Access the Truth of Creation

As we saw above, the Greek term “analogy,” which later on (beginning with Aristotle) acquired a rich philosophical meaning, is used in the Book of Wisdom to refer to the contemplation of God through creatures: “The greatness and beauty of creatures make us, by analogy, contemplate their Author” (Ws 13:5). This insight is taken up by St. Paul in the New Testament, for example in his famous speech at the Areopagus, where the Apostle draws on the reflection of philosophers to affirm that in God “we life and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). Further developments can be found at the beginning of the Epistle to the Romans: “What [God] has made invisible since the creation of the world can be seen by the mind through his works, his eternal power and his divinity” (Rom 1:20). Therefore, Scripture recognizes the capacity of human reason to know God from His creatures, as the encyclical Fides et ratio explains:

In the first chapter of his Letter to the Romans, Saint Paul helps us to appreciate better the depth of insight of the Wisdom literature's reflection. Developing a philosophical argument in popular language, the Apostle declares a profound truth: through all that is created the “eyes of the mind” can come to know God. Through the medium of creatures, God stirs in reason an intuition of his “power” and his “divinity” (cf. Rom 1:20). This is to concede to human reason a capacity which seems almost to surpass its natural limitations. Not only is it not restricted to sensory knowledge, from the moment that it can reflect critically upon the data of the senses, but, by discoursing on the data provided by the senses, reason can reach the cause which lies at the origin of all perceptible reality. In philosophical terms, we could say that this important Pauline text affirms the human capacity for metaphysical enquiry.

According to the Apostle, it was part of the original plan of the creation that reason should without difficulty reach beyond the sensory data to the origin of all things: the Creator. But because of the disobedience by which man and woman chose to set themselves in full and absolute autonomy in relation to the One who had created them, this ready access to God the Creator diminished. (John Paul II, <em>Fides et ratio</em>, no. 22)

Man received from God his ability to seek the principle of creatures, but it was obscured by sin. In the wake of sin, the metaphysical enterprise is difficult. It is still possible (as the example of the philosophers shows), but it requires a great deal of time and energy and, therefore, is not accessible to everyone. Revelation makes it clear that the universe has an author. It allows everyone to know this truth:

This is why man stands in need of being enlightened by God’s revelation, not only about those things that exceed his understanding, but also “about those religious and moral truths which of themselves are not beyond the grasp of human reason, so that even in the present condition of the human race, they can be known by all men with ease, with firm certainty and with no admixture of error” (CCC no. 38, quoting the First Vatican Council).

Therefore, the revelation of creation provides a kind of shortcut for the mind. It provides easier access to a truth that is essential to man and his salvation.

St. Thomas Aquinas on the Importance of the Principle and End

The difficulty of philosophical research invites us to consider the revelation of creation. Theology is founded on the fact that God is the principle and end of the universe. This is particularly evident in the teachings of St. Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century. He expounds sacred doctrine (sacra doctrina), that is, the teaching about God, also called theology, through a common philosophical schema that highlights God as the principle and end of all things. This is the schema of departure and return, in Latin exitus—reditus. This structure can be found in Neoplatonic philosophers such as Plotinus (third century), Proclus (fifth century), and John Scotus Eriugena (ninth century).

In his early work, the commentary on the Sentences, Thomas presents the plan of his work as follows:

This doctrine will consider things according to how they proceed from God as their principle, and according to how they relate to him as their end. That is why in the first part [Peter Lombard] deals with divine things as they proceed from their principle; in the second, according to their returning to the end, and this at the beginning of the third [book]. (Thomas Aquinas, <em>In</em> I <em>Sent.</em>, d. 2, divisio textus)

Peter Lombard’s Sentences (dating from the twelfth century) was the standard theology textbook in the thirteenth century, and every young theologian had to comment on this work before being appointed as a professor at the University. To structure his commentary, Thomas chose the pattern of departure and return (exitus—reditus). As proof of its importance, it is repeated in his later systematic works, the Summa contra Gentiles and the Summa theologiae. The outline of the latter work, intended for beginners in theology, is presented by the Dominican Doctor as follows:

The main purpose of sacred doctrine is to transmit knowledge of God, not only according to what he is in himself, but also according to what he is as the principle and end of things, especially of rational creatures… In expounding this doctrine, we will first discuss God; second, the movement of rational creatures toward God; and third, Christ, who, as man, is for us the way that leads to God.” (Thomas Aquinas, <em>ST</em>, q. 2, prol.)

In the first part of the Summa theologiae, St. Thomas discusses God and what proceeds from Him. In the second part, he discusses man’s movement toward God, that is, the action whose study constitutes moral theology. And, in the third part, he discusses Christ and the sacraments, which are the means left by Christ for returning to God. Thus, we see that the idea that God is both the beginning and end of all things—and, therefore, the schema expressing this using the notions of departure and return—is of structural importance.

Thus, for Thomas Aquinas, theological contemplation concerns not only God but also creatures that come forth from Him and return to Him. Creation is primarily the doctrine that deals with the departure of realities from God, but it is a kind of first act after which follows a teaching concerning the return of things to God. For non-rational creatures, the return to God consists simply in fulfilling the nature they have received from God. By perfecting themselves, they reflect something of divine perfection. For example, the beauty of a tree in bloom is an image of the divine fecundity, or the stability of stone is an image of God’s faithfulness. Thus, “God alone is my rock, my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken” (Ps 62:2). Sacred Scripture is filled with analogies that allow man to grasp something of divine perfection.

For rational creatures, returning to God consists in knowing and loving Him. This is how men and angels fulfill within themselves the image they have received from God. The doctrine of creation, especially in its anthropological aspect (the study of man), thus extends into moral theology, which accounts for man’s journey toward his end through acts oriented toward beatitude.

Contemporary Issues in the Theology of Creation

The remarks made thus far have been mainly on doctrines of creation drawn from patristic and medieval thought. Theology proceeds by development rather than by rupture, so these teachings remain relevant even in our own day. Nevertheless, the theology of creation today faces more specific challenges. Two issues seem particularly important: the importance of formulating an overall worldview; and the ecological crisis.

Creation and Worldview

A worldview is the way in which we represent the universe. Our actions take place within the universe and are, therefore, influenced by a worldview. The major ideologies of the twentieth century highlighted this fact. For example, Nazism was based on Social Darwinism (often attributed to Herbert Spencer in the nineteenth century, as an application of natural selection to human societies), which itself was based on evolutionary materialism. This worldview naturally rejected the created aspect of material realities and metaphysics. Although Social Darwinism has disappeared, a worldview derived from the theory of evolution is now widespread:

In our day, the theory of evolution is often elevated to the status of a global worldview. This boundary is crossed whenever (implicitly or explicitly) it is claimed that the theory of evolution offers the only interpretation of the totality of our reality, rendering all philosophical and religious interpretations superfluous because of its scientific foundation, which, likewise, renders it entirely sufficient.{2}

Therefore, the difficulty does not arise from the scientific theory of evolution but, rather, from the fact that it is elevated to the status of a worldview (i.e., scientific facts are interpreted within a materialistic philosophy). To overcome this error and fashion a correct worldview, metaphysics is essential. It is of paramount importance, yet it has been forgotten by the modern mind, as Cardinal Ratzinger explained in a 1989 lecture:

That nature has a mathematical intelligibility is to state the obvious, the assertion that it also contains in itself a moral intelligibility, however, is rejected as metaphysical fantasy. The demise of metaphysics goes hand in hand with the displacement of the teaching on creation. Their place has been taken by a philosophy of evolution (which I would like to distinguish from the scientific hypothesis of evolution). This philosophy intends to discard the laws of nature so that the management of its development may make a better life possible. Nature, which ought really to be the teacher along this path, is instead a blind mistress, combining by unwitting chance what man is supposed to simulate now with full consciousness. His relationship to nature (which is, to be sure, no creation) remains that of one who acts upon it; it is in no way that of a learner. It persists as a relationship of domination, then, resting upon the presumption that rational calculation may be as clever as “evolution” and can therefore lift the world to new heights. The process of development up to this point had to struggle along without human intervention.

Conscience, to which appeal is made, is essentially mute, just as nature, the teacher, is blind, it just computes which action holds the best chances for betterment. This can (and should, according to the logic of the point of departure) occur in a collective way, for what is needed is a party which, as the vanguard of history, takes evolution in hand while exacting the absolute subordination of the individual to it. Otherwise, things occur individualistically and conscience then becomes the expression of the subject’s autonomy which, in terms of the grand world picture, can only seem absurd arrogance.{3}

In order to act correctly, man needs wisdom about the universe. Now, as we showed above, this wisdom is, on a philosophical level, a metaphysics that seeks the causes of realities and is intimately connected to a philosophy of nature. On a theological level, it is fulfilled in a doctrine of creation. However, the contemporary view of the universe is often technical in focus, seeking to use the intelligibility of things for the purposes of human action. For example, wood is considered a material for construction. It is reduced to its mathematical intelligibility without any search for its origin. By contrast, metaphysics directs the mind toward higher causes. Thus, the metaphysician listens to nature, considering it a teacher and not mere material for use. The theologian goes even further: he contemplates creation as something given by God. St. Thomas Aquinas was an eminent example of a theologian who knew how to use philosophy from a theological perspective. This is why his thinking will feature prominently in the following pages.

A worldview is important because it influences moral action. Those who believe they live in a world born of chance and subject to “the law of the strongest” will be compelled to impose their own law in order to survive. By contrast, those who know that they are loved by God, as is the world around them, will seek to live in accordance with their vocation and in harmony with the world around them. Therefore, the theology of creation is not only theoretical knowledge based on revelation. It also leads to righteous action and the fulfillment of one’s vocation as a human being created in the image of God.

Creation and Ecology

The second issue is related to the moral actions of human beings within the universe. It concerns the ecological crisis facing humanity. In the encyclical Laudato si, Pope Francis sees this crisis as a symptom of a much deeper discord, one that stems from original sin:

The creation accounts in the book of Genesis contain, in their own symbolic and narrative language, profound teachings about human existence and its historical reality. They suggest that human life is grounded in three fundamental and closely intertwined relationships: with God, with our neighbour and with the earth itself. According to the Bible, these three vital relationships have been broken, both outwardly and within us. This rupture is sin. The harmony between the Creator, humanity and creation as a whole was disrupted by our presuming to take the place of God and refusing to acknowledge our creaturely limitations. This in turn distorted our mandate to “have dominion” over the earth (cf. Gen 1:28), to “till it and keep it” (Gen 2:15). As a result, the originally harmonious relationship between human beings and nature became conflictual. (cf. Gen 3:17-19) (<em>Laudato si</em>, no. 66).

Original sin shattered the harmony between man and nature. This rupture did not happen yesterday, but today it takes on the particular form we see around us. The solution cannot be merely technical but, Pope Francis argues, must be moral and spiritual. The challenge for humanity is to restore the harmony broken by sin. Pope Francis thus invites humanity to contemplate creation as a gift from God:

“To contemplate creation is to hear a message, to listen to a paradoxical and silent voice.” We can say that “alongside revelation properly so-called, contained in sacred Scripture, there is a divine manifestation in the blaze of the sun and the fall of night.” Paying attention to this manifestation, we learn to see ourselves in relation to all other creatures: “I express myself in expressing the world; in my effort to decipher the sacredness of the world, I explore my own.” (<em>Laudato si</em>, no. 85 {4}

This consideration of creation invites us to care for it and manage it as a good steward according to the teaching of Genesis 1, which we will study further on. It also presupposes the order of creation that Thomas Aquinas thematizes in his study of the distinction between creatures, which means that they form an ordered universe.

Thus, the ecological crisis invites theologians to form a correct notion of anthropocentrism. Man is at the center of creation, but this does not mean that other creatures have no value.

Therefore, an important aspect of this study, furnishing a possible response to the questions raised by the ecological crisis, will be found in the theological discussion of the distinction between creatures.

II. The Revelation of Creation: Scripture and Tradition

As with any theological doctrine, the foundations for the theology of creation can be found in Sacred Scripture and its development should be sought in the writings of the Church Fathers. In this section, we will focus on the statements of Sacred Scripture and the insights offered by the Church Fathers in response to the controversies of the early centuries.

In the Old Testament

The main foundation for the doctrine of creation in Scripture is the first chapter of Genesis (more precisely, Gn 1:1–2:4a). The first verse is the most important: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Gn 1:1). We will focus on this verse before offering a reading of the entire chapter.

The First Verse of Genesis

The banality of the translation “in the beginning” masks a wealth of meaning. The first word of Scripture, Bereshit, has in fact been the subject of numerous interpretations. Let us first recall what this term means in Hebrew. If we put aside for the moment the first letter (beth), which is a preposition meaning “in” or “by,” the first word comes from the root rosh, which means “head.”

This term is used in the Bible to refer to the “first fruits,” that is, the ritual offering of the first fruits or first ears of grain. The meaning broadens to refer to the first in a series, for example, the firstborn of a family. From this fundamental meaning, Scripture has two derived further meanings: the first derived meaning emphasizes the temporal aspect, referring to the beginning, the origin, the start; the second derived meaning emphasizes the qualitative aspect, that which is first in dignity (thus meaning the best part, the elite).

Therefore, the translation of Bereshit as “In the beginning” is entirely correct, but it is not the only possible translation. In Greek, this expression was translated as èn archè, which means both “in the beginning” and “in the principle.” Similarly, in Latin, it was translated as in principio.

Thus, the first verse of Genesis affirms both that the universe began and that God created everything. If we add to this the fact that Scripture applies the verb bara only to God, we can discern three statements in this verse, according to the Catechism:

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth”: three things are affirmed in these first words of Scripture: the eternal God gave a beginning to all that exists outside of himself; he alone is Creator (the verb “create”—Hebrew bara—always has God for its subject). The totality of what exists (expressed by the formula "the heavens and the earth") depends on the One who gives it being. (CCC no. 290)

These three elements clearly express the Hebrew meaning of bereshit and bara. Tradition has discerned an additional meaning in this first verse: even though God alone is the Creator, Scripture presents a figure of Wisdom alongside him, for example in Prv 8. Thus, reshit can refer to this figure present with God, in whom Christianity saw the Son of God. The Targum Neofiti, which is both a translation and an explanation of Gn 1:1 in Aramaic, offers this interpretation: “From the beginning (the Word) of Yahweh with wisdom created and completed the heavens and the earth.” We here emphasize the two different translations of bereshit: “in the beginning” and “in His wisdom.” Thus, the first verse of Genesis also has a Trinitarian meaning. In a consistent and complementary way, the Church Fathers frequently interpreted the breath of God hovering over the waters, spoken of in verse 2, as referring to the Holy Spirit.

Thus, with St. Augustine, the Latin tradition discerned three meanings in the first verse of Genesis: the beginning of time, the creation of all things (in a formless state, which was formed during the six days of creation), and creation in the Son.{5} This plurality of meanings was taken up by Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century.{6}

Genesis 1: Continuation of the Chapter

In the twentieth century, it was noted that the creation account in Genesis 1 had many similarities with the texts of Israel’s neighbors. The two closest texts are the Enuma Elish, which is the Babylonian epic of the creation of the world (around the twelfth century BC), and, in Egyptian culture, the hymn to Aten, the sun god. For example, the Enuma Elish evokes the sky and the earth, the presence of waters, the appearance of dry land, luminaries, and man.

A sound theology of inspiration helps us understand this similarity. The culture of the human authors of Scripture is not an obstacle to inspiration by God. Revelation comes through the knowledge and reflection of human authors. God does not dictate His word to an entirely passive and thoughtless human being.

The human author (or authors) of Genesis therefore draws on the culture of the surrounding peoples to describe creation. But divine inspiration allows them to go far beyond this culture to convey the knowledge that God wants to bring to humankind. In this respect, the first chapter of Genesis is a rich text that differs from pagan texts in several fundamental points of its theology. Here are the main elements of this theology in Genesis 1:

(1) God creates through His Word. For example, “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Gn 1:3). While the second chapter presents God as shaping His creatures, the first chapter presents God as dwelling above creation, engaging with it through His word. The theological tradition has interpreted this mention of the Word as being the presence of the Verbum, in line with the Trinitarian interpretation of the first verse, already mentioned.

(2) God separates. For example, on the first day, “God separated the light from the darkness” (Gn 1:4). Later, we will consider the theological meaning of separation according to Thomas Aquinas. For now, it suffices to mention that God separates to bring order to creation. This order is marked by the rhythm of the days. In this text’s emphasis on separation and the very precise and hierarchical organization, the historical critical method sees an indication that the human author belonged to the priestly milieu. The first chapter is therefore called the priestly narrative, and the human author is designated by the letter “P” (as in Priesterschrift). These elements allow us to date the text to the return from exile.

(3) Creation is good in its entirety. The goodness of creation is a leitmotif of the text. It is affirmed after most of the creative acts. For example, “God saw that the light was good” (Gn 1:4). This formula is only missing in Genesis 1:5 for the creation of light on the first day (which is separate because it is the head of all the works) and then in Genesis 1:8 for the creation of the firmament (no doubt because the work of the firmament is not yet complete). In Genesis 1:31, this approval applies eminently to creation as a whole: “God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good” (Gn 1:31).

The sacred author was aware of the reality of evil in the form of death and suffering, but he here affirms that evil does not come from God. God establishes a good creation, and the presence of evil within creation will be explained, in chapter three, through the sin of man.

(4) Creatures are desacralized, and the author establishes a clear separation between God and creatures. This is evident in relation to the sun and the moon. The sun and moon were important deities in the Babylonian and Ugaritic religions (in Canaan). However, they are described here as “luminaries” (Gn 1:14) or lamps (Gn 1:16). The latter term is used for the lamps in the tent of meeting (Ex 35:8, 14; Lv 24:2; Nm 4:9, 16). Therefore, the sun and moon therefore have a utilitarian function and are simply tools at the service of the inhabitants of the earth. The account emphasizes that they are not on the same level as God.

(5) Man stands at the center of creation. Man and woman are created at the end of the six days. Their creation represents the completion of God’s work and the crowning glory of creation. This eminence is emphasized by God’s deliberation— “Let us make man in our image” (Gn 1:26)—and man is called to be God’s representative to rule over creation.

Genesis 2

Historical-critical exegesis has accustomed Christians to distinguishing between two “creation accounts.” The first chapter of Genesis (more precisely Gn 1:1–2:4a) is believed to be the work of a human author (or authors) from the priestly milieu,{7} whereas the second chapter (specifically Gn 2:4b–25) is believed to have been written by a Yahwist author, so named because of the name given to God (“Yahweh Elohim”). The Yahwist author wrote the second chapter between the ninth and eighth centuries BC, while the priestly author wrote after the Babylonian exile, between the sixth and fifth centuries BC. While historical science allows for a better understanding of the context in which the Biblical writings were composed and, therefore, of the human author’s intention, it should not obscure the unity of the divine author of the Biblical texts. These texts reveal different aspects of the same theological truth about creation.

Thus, the atmosphere of the second chapter of Genesis is different from that of the first chapter. God’s creative action is described in the vivid manner of a craftsman shaping man. There is no indication of the days of creation, and man is created before woman, whereas on the sixth day of Genesis 1 they are created at the same time.

At the beginning of Genesis 2, the earth is desert. God creates man and then creates a garden in which he grows all kinds of attractive trees:

At the time when Yahweh God made the earth and the heavens, there were no shrubs of the field on the earth and no grass of the field had yet sprung up, for Yahweh God had not caused rain to fall on the earth and there was no man to cultivate the soil… The Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east, and there he put the man he had formed. The Lord God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. (Gn 2:4b–5, 8–9)

Just as God brought Israel out of the desert to the Promised Land, flowing with milk and honey (Ex 3:8), so too God gave man a magnificent garden filled with trees, with the tree of life in the middle, which is a promise of immortality. And just as God commands the people to follow His law in order to receive the promise,{8} so too He commands man, in the garden of Eden, not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Gn 2:17). Therefore, the text of Genesis 2 is constructed on the model of the covenant, with a gift (the wonderful garden) and a requirement (obedience to the Lord’s commandment). This perspective complements that of Chapter 1. Whereas the first chapter gives an overview of the order of creation, the second emphasizes how man should live within the very heart of nature. On the one hand, man is part of nature, since he is made from the clay of the ground; on the other hand, he is detached from it by his relationship with God.

Other Texts

Several teachings on creation are found in other books of the Bible. For example, the prayer in Psalm 104 contains numerous references to the first chapter of Genesis. Here we will focus on two important aspects of the theology of creation: on the one hand, the connection between creation and salvation expressed in the book of Isaiah, and on the other, the contemplative dimension formulated in the Wisdom Books.

Creation and Salvation

Isaiah’s texts on creation are set in the context of the Babylonian exile (sixth century BC). This was a trial for the Israelites, driven from the Promised Land and invited by the prophets to return to God. The confession of God’s creation is a fundamental element of the faith of the people of Israel. Since God is the one who created the universe, He is able to save them from their enemies. “Your creator is your husband, Yahweh Sabaoth is his name, the Holy One of Israel is your redeemer, he is called the God of all the earth” (Is 54:5). The God who created the universe is the same God who made a covenant with Israel, who chose it as His bride. The God of Israel is also the God of all the earth. He is the one who can restore the Promised Land to Israel.

The connection between creation and salvation appears specifically in the reuse of the verb bara. As seen earlier, this verb was used to refer to God’s act of creating Heaven and Earth in Genesis 1:1. Isaiah applies it to the people of Israel themselves: “And now, thus says Yahweh, who created you, O Jacob, who formed you, O Israel” (Is 43:1). Therefore, God is the Savior because He is the Creator. The Book of Isaiah offers a parallel between creation and covenant, as in Genesis 2. However, Genesis 1 is the fundamental Scriptural basis.

A Contemplation of Creation

The Wisdom writings deal more with creation for its own sake, focusing on describing its specific meaning. In these texts, the sacred authors wish to probe the mystery of creation in order to enter into the mystery of God. Therefore, the authors admire creation for its perfection and well-ordered arrangement.{9} The famous words from the Book of Wisdom have already been quoted: “The greatness and beauty of creatures make them, by analogy, contemplate their Author” (Wis 13:5). Analogy—in the sense of tracing creatures back to the Creator—is a typical approach found in the authors of the Wisdom Books.

It is in this context that Scripture uses the Greek word cosmos, which is found nineteen times in the Book of Wisdom. Recall that Genesis 1 spoke of “heaven and earth,” and sometimes in the Old Testament we also find the term “all” (Ps 8:7) or “all things” (Is 44:24). The term “cosmos” used by Wisdom Authors adds to this notion of universality the idea of order and, therefore, beauty.

Thus, the Wisdom Texts point us toward Divine Wisdom. Creation leads to it, but it is not enough. The three great Wisdom Texts on creation (Job 28, Prv 8, and Sir 24) make the connection between the unfathomable mystery of creation and the revelation given to Israel, which is concretized in the Law. Job 28 describes the journey of a man who seeks wisdom in nature but does not fully succeed. Creation contains traces of God’s wisdom, but it does not contain it in its entirety. By contrast, this wisdom is found in the fear of God, that is, in the Law: “The fear of the Lord is wisdom, and to depart from evil is understanding” (Job 28:28).

In the Book of Proverbs and in Sirach, Wisdom is personified and considered as a co-creative principle. “Before the ages, from the beginning, he created me, and I shall remain forever” (Sir 24:9). These texts have given rise to abundant discussions concerning the status of this personified wisdom. For Christians, they undoubtedly foreshadow Trinitarian theology and the mode of action exercised by the Divine Persons in the act of creation. We will develop this point more in the third part below.

These texts show how the theology of creation is not merely metaphysical. The Biblical authors draw on philosophy, but they seek to enter into the mystery of God Himself, and this is only possible because God reveals Himself.

In the New Testament

The fact of creation seems to be firmly established in the Old Testament. The New Testament often draws on the theology of creation highlighted above. However, the Incarnation of Christ and the revelation of divine life bring a deeper understanding to this mystery.

In the Gospel, Christ often delivers His teaching by drawing upon the reality of creation. In addition to the many parables that use the realities of nature, Jesus emphasizes God’s love from the beginning of the world. “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them! Are you not worth more than they?” (Mt 6:26). This is the same theological pattern as we see in the book of Isaiah: creation is proof of God’s love and power. Therefore, it invites man to put his faith in God the Creator and Savior.

The great revelation of divine life deepens our understanding of the act of creation, as initiated in particular by Wisdom Literature. The figure of Wisdom, so mysterious in the Old Testament, is assimilated to the Word of God. Two texts are very explicit: the prologue of St. John and the hymn found in the letter to the Colossians.

The prologue of the Gospel of John echoes the beginning of Genesis: “In the beginning (en archè) was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (Jn 1:1–2). The expression “in the beginning” is a clear reference to Genesis, and the mention of the Word refers to the creative word that punctuates the six days of creation. St. John adds an element from the book of Proverbs: the presence of the Logos with God, just as Wisdom was with God during the creation of the world in Prv 8.

The hymn to the Colossians also echoes the theology of creation in Genesis 1. St. Paul plays on the different meanings of the Hebrew term reshit used in the first verse of Genesis. Christ is referred to as “head,” “firstborn,” and “beginning” (Col 1:18). Similarly, different prepositions are used to translate the first letter of Genesis: the preposition beth, which completes the term reshit to form bereshit. “In him all things were created, in heaven and on earth… All things were created through him and for him” (Col 1:16). The hymn thus appears once again as an exegesis of the first verse of Genesis applied to Christ.

Thus, the New Testament invites us to take up the Old Testament teaching on creation and extend it into a contemplation of the mystery of the Triune God. The theology of St. Thomas Aquinas, which will be explained further on, takes account of these different aspects of creation.

III. What is Creation?

After studying the revelation of creation, we must now account for this given. We will do so based on the theology of St. Thomas Aquinas, studying the definition of creation ex nihilo, God’s relationship to the world, and the nature of the Creator.

As is often the case in theology, the study of creation requires us to abandon imaginative representations that lead to a false conception of God’s action. Thus, creation is not an impulse given to the universe at a given moment. This would lead to the following unanswerable questions: What was God doing before creation? What did God give an impulse to? The definition of creation as formulated by St. Thomas Aquinas avoids these false questions.

His definition of creation starts from a consideration of being. As we noted already, his theology of creation has a strongly metaphysical character. After studying the mystery of God, St. Thomas Aquinas defines creation as “the emanation of all being from the universal cause, which is God” (ST I, q. 45, a. 1, resp.). Being is the most universal thing there is, for everything that exists possesses being. Therefore, the cause of being is the most universal agent: God. Consequently, nothing is presupposed for creation. This is what is called creation from nothing (ex nihilo).

Creation ex Nihilo

The Church Fathers emphasized the difference between God and the human craftsman: the human craftsman shapes his product from pre-existing material, while God creates from nothing. Creation from nothing means that everything in reality comes from God. If we assume, with Aristotle, that reality is composed of matter and form, then both matter and form come from God.

Among medieval theologians, the expression creation ex nihilo led to rich developments. The Church Fathers saw in the expression ex nihilo something opposed to the productive activity of human craftsmen. Nevertheless, the very expression, “from nothing,” can lead to misunderstandings. For creation is not the passage from “nothing” to being. It is not a change from one state to another, but the production of the whole of being. Since man designates realities based on what he knows, and since nature is characterized by constant change from one state to another, the human mind comes to speak of creation “from nothing.” However, creation is not a change. It is a divine action:

Since the mode of signifying follows the mode of knowing… creation is signified by the mode of change. For this reason, we say that to create is to make something out of nothing. However, <em>making</em> and <em>being made</em> are more appropriate than <em>changing</em> and <em>being changed</em>: because <em>making</em> and <em>being made</em> imply a relationship between cause and effect and between effect and cause, but they [i.e., <em>doing</em> and </em>being done</em>] imply change only as a consequence. (<em>ST</em> I, q. 45, a. 2, ad 2. Emphasis added.)

Therefore, Creation is conceived from change (here a change that would be from nothing), which is the only action that human intelligence knows in nature. However, from this action of God, we must retain only the cause-and-effect relationships: God is the Creator and the creature is created.

We can go further. According to St. Thomas, the expression “from nothing” has a real metaphysical meaning. To understand it, we must distinguish between “the order of nature” and “the order of duration.” The order of duration is the chronological order (before and after), whereas the order of nature is only hierarchical or logical (anteriority and posteriority). For example, sound and words are pronounced at the same time but have an order of nature: there can be no words spoken without sound, but there can be sound without words spoken (sound is the matter and words are the form). Therefore, there is no “before” or “after” in the utterance of sound and words, but sound precedes words. Similarly, a boss and his subordinate may have arrived at a company at the same time, yet one is well ahead of the other in the hierarchical order. The natural order designates anteriority and posteriority without temporal “before” or “after.” Thomas Aquinas applies the definition of the natural order to the relationship between being and non-being in creatures: “We can say, like Avicenna, that non-being precedes the being of a reality, not in terms of duration, but in terms of nature. For, we can see that if it were left to itself, it would be nothing; and it possesses being only from another” (De potentia, q. 3, a. 14, ad s. c. 7.)

For a created reality, non-being precedes being. This does not mean that before it existed, the creature was nothingness—for nothingness is nothing—but, rather, that the creature depends entirely on God. If it were left to itself, it would disappear. Thus, Thomas does not explain creation from nothing as though it were a transition from non-being to being but, rather, as a radical dependence on God: the creature’s entire being comes from God.

IV. The Beginning of the World

One of the meanings of the first verse of Genesis is the affirmation of the beginning of the world. Tertullian interprets the first verse of Genesis, writing, “‘beginning’ (principium) has no other meaning than start.”{10} The question concerning the beginning of the world was addressed by several councils, in particular the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), which confronted a dualistic heresy, known today as “Catharism,” which denied the creation of all things by God: “[God is the] the sole principle of all things; creator of all things visible and invisible, spiritual and bodily, who by His omnipotent power, at once from the beginning of time, created both orders of creatures from nothing, the spiritual and the corporeal—namely, the angelic and the worldly—and thereafter the human creature, as it were common to both, constituted of spirit and body.”{11} The Council recalls the three interpretations of the first verse of Genesis that we saw above. This statement is repeated by the First Vatican Council (Denzinger, no. 3002) and by the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC no. 293). It is fitting for us to provide a theological account of this, recalling the contemporary status quaestionis and the history of the debate, before then proposing a deeper understanding in the light of the teaching of St. Thomas Aquinas.

The Status Quaestionis Today

The assertion that the world has a beginning may seem rather obvious to the twenty-first-century Christian, who has been brought up on the Big Bang theory, developed in particular by the Belgian canon Georges Lemaître. This has not always been the case. As we shall see, many ancient philosophers held that the world is eternal. Contemporary Christians know that the universe has a history, which makes it easy to affirm its beginning. This ease actually hides a real epistemological difficulty. In the decades following the emergence of the Big Bang cosmological theory, Christians showed enthusiasm, as reflected in Pius XII’s speech to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences: “It seems that today's science, suddenly going back millions of centuries, has succeeded in witnessing that primordial Fiat lux, when a sea of light and radiation sprang from nothingness with matter, as the particles of chemical elements decomposed and assembled into millions of galaxies.”{12} However, Georges Lemaître held that this statement confused the levels of theology and observational science. In his speech the following year at the World Astronomy Congress, Pius XII was more cautious: “The scope of the cosmic conception… does not constitute an obstacle… to the love or omnipotence of the One who, being pure spirit, possesses infinite superiority over matter, whatever its cosmic dimensions may be in space, time, mass, and energy.”{13}

God is the master of all time, and we know from Scripture that this mastery is manifested in the gift of a beginning. However, this beginning does not necessarily coincide with the Big Bang. The difficulty of such a coincidence would be twofold. First, the Big Bang does not really affirm the existence of a beginning. Access to a first moment comes up against the “Planck wall,” that is, an extremely small temporal limit beyond which the laws of physics no longer apply. Second, physics envisions an initial state of the universe but does not assert that it is an absolute beginning. It does not assert that this state came from nothing and, in fact, would be incapable of doing so by its very nature. On the contrary, physics seeks a state prior to this first known state: physics always studies the change from one state to another. It could thus consider this dense and hot initial state as a simple stage in a series of contractions and expansions.

Therefore, the debate concerning the beginning of the world requires a clear distinction between what is accessible to reason and what is accessible only through revelation. St. Thomas carried out such labors in the thirteenth century. However, this debate has older roots whose important stages need to be retraced if we are to understand what is at stake.

St. Thomas's Position

To understand Thomas’s position, we must take stock of the positions held in thirteenth century. Two extreme positions can be distinguished. On the one hand, daring philosophers followed Aristotle in his demonstration of the eternity of the world and held this thesis to be rationally proven. This was the case, for example, in Siger of Brabant and Boethius of Dacia, who were accused by Thomas Aquinas of holding a theory of “double truth”: for the philosopher, the world is eternal, and for the theologian, the world has a beginning in time. On the other hand, conservative theologians asserted (following Revelation) that the world had a beginning and, also, that this could be demonstrated. On behalf of this thesis, we can cite the Franciscan school (e.g., St. Bonaventure and John Peckham).

St. Thomas Aquinas adopts a more subtle position. He asserts, in accordance with Christian faith, that the world had a beginning, but also that it is impossible to demonstrate this through reason. The beginning of the world is accessible only to faith. Thus, Aristotle, whom Thomas held to be the philosopher who went further than any other in the work of reason, did not succeed on this point. In his early works, Thomas considers Aristotle’s demonstration to be only an opinion; later, he asserts that it is erroneous.

Therefore, we must distinguish between two elements in the doctrine of creation. First, its philosophical aspect: the dependence of all things on God. This is a truth accessible to reason, which, according to St. Thomas, Aristotle arrived at. This is simply the metaphysical approach (called wisdom or first philosophy by Aristotle): the philosopher questions the origin of realities and goes back to their principle, which is God (called the First Mover by Aristotle in Metaphysics Λ). The second element of the doctrine of creation is that the world has a beginning in time: “It belongs to the notion of creation to have a principle of origin but not a principle of duration, unless we understand creation as faith receives it” (De potentia, q. 3, a. 14, ad s. c. 8).

Thus, there is a philosophical notion of creation (dependence in being) and a theological notion (which includes both dependence in being and the beginning of the world). The latter furnishes a more complete account of God’s action in bringing creatures into being by Himself. By distinguishing these elements, Thomas opposes both the strict Aristotelians, showing that creatures had a beginning (ST I, q. 46, a. 1), and the conservative theologians of his day, for whom the beginning of the world would be a philosophical truth (ST I, q. 46, a. 2).

According to Thomas, it is possible to conceive of a world created without a beginning in time. Admittedly, the world did have a beginning, but an eternally created world would not be contradictory. He asserts this in his various writings, starting with his early work, the commentary on the Sentences, and in a more developed form in the treatise De aeternitate mundi devoted to this controversy. This treatise is thought to have been written around 1271, at a time when the debate was particularly intense at the University of Paris.

According to a frequently advanced hypothesis, this short work was directed against John Peckham, a Franciscan master who argued, in his inaugural lecture, that the beginning of the world in time is philosophically demonstrable. Out of courtesy, St. Thomas remained silent. However, his students begged him to refute the Franciscan’s position, and the next day, during the second stage of the lecture, Thomas pointed out the weakness of his position. Shortly thereafter, he wrote down his arguments, which were published in the form of the treatise De aeternitate mundi. However, this hypothesis is no longer accepted by specialists. Instead, it is considered to be a short work written calmly with the aim of criticizing the Franciscan ideas that were prevalent at the time.

At the beginning of the work, Thomas formulates the problem as follows: “The whole question, therefore, comes down to this: is it, or is it not, contradictory to say that things are created by God in the whole of their substance and also that they have no beginning in time?” (Thomas Aquinas, De aeternitate mundi)

For Thomas Aquinas, the answer is no: creation and the absence of a beginning are not contradictory, so that we can conceive of a world that is eternally created (in the sense of having no beginning and no end, not in the sense of divine eternity, which is above time). Let us summarize St. Thomas Aquinas's lengthy argument in two main points. First, we have the example in nature of immediate and instantaneous links between cause and effect. Thomas Aquinas gives the example of illumination by the sun, which he considers to be immediate. We know today that this is not the case, but we could find other examples in the world of the infinitely small. Thus, the cause does not necessarily precede its effect in time, so that the world is not necessarily "after" God. Secondly, according to Thomas Aquinas, the notion of "creation ex nihilo" does not necessarily imply that the gift of being is temporal, i.e., after nothingness. For some of his predecessors, such as Albert the Great, the expression ex nihilo (from nothing) is synonymous with post nihil (after nothingness). But according to Thomas Aquinas' definition, as we saw above, the expression "creation ex nihilo" means only the absence of pre-existing matter and total and absolute dependence on God. It means that being is received, not that it began.

Through faith, we know that the world had a beginning in time. Therefore, what is the point of this unrealized hypothesis of an eternally created world? How does this reflection allow Thomas to deepen his teaching on creation? If the temporal beginning of the world is not a necessary consequence of the fact that creatures come from God, then it results from God’s free will. In short, the fact that the world has a temporal beginning is not necessary; it is the expression of God’s free choice. We cannot give a demonstrative reason for this, but only argument from fittingness. This means that we can only show how this teaching is consistent with the other mysteries of faith. An argument from fittingness highlights, with human reason, the consistency of a statement of faith without demonstrating it. Thus, in his disputed questions De potentia Dei, St. Thomas argues:

Since God produced creatures in order to manifest himself, it was more fitting and better that they be produced in such a way as to manifest him in a more suitable and expressive manner. Now he is manifested more expressively by creatures if they do not exist forever, for this expresses more clearly the fact that they are brought into being by another, that God has no need of creatures, and that creatures are entirely subject to the divine will. (<em>De potentia</em>, q. 3, a. 17, ad 8)

Thus the fact that the world has a temporal beginning emphasizes: that creatures come from a cause other than the world; that God is supremely superior to the world because He is eternal, whereas the world has a beginning (and therefore God has no need of creatures); and that creatures are subject to God’s will because He brings them into existence by creating them in time. If the world has a temporal beginning even though it could have been created and eternal, this manifests God’s power and the dependence of creatures on Him to the highest degree. Not only do creatures receive their being from God, but they receive it with a beginning.

Thus, this temporal beginning belongs to the theological notion of creation: only the believer can access it, and reason cannot demonstrate it. In the Summa theologiae, St. Thomas puts forward the following arguments against the rational demonstrability of the temporal beginning of the world:

The fact that the world has not always existed is held by faith alone and cannot be proven demonstratively, as is also the case for the mystery of the Trinity, as was discussed in an earlier question. This is because the [temporal] newness of the world cannot be demonstrated from the world itself. For the principle of demonstration is quiddity, the “what-it-is” of things. Now everything, according to the nature of its species, abstracts from place and time; that is why it is said that universals are everywhere and always. Therefore, it cannot be demonstrated that man, or the sky, or a stone have not always existed. Similarly, [the newness of the world cannot be demonstrated] from the active cause, which acts by will. For reason can only discover something about God’s will in relation to what he wills in an absolutely necessary way. However, this is not the case for what he wills in relation to creatures. (<em>ST</em> I, q. 46, a. 2, resp.)

Thomas considers two types of demonstration here. The first is demonstration by “what-it-is,” that is, based on the nature of a thing. The fact that Socrates is a man means that Socrates is mortal, since all men are mortal. Here we are reasoning about the human nature to which Socrates belongs, about “what it means to be human.” Reasoning about nature is universal reasoning: humans in all times and places are mortal. This reasoning gives us no clue about the beginning or end of the human species. Similarly, studying the world reveals nothing about its possible beginning.

The second type of demonstration goes back to the active cause. For the case of Socrates, we could deduce his mortality from the fact that both his parents are mortal and that a mere mortal cannot beget an eternal being. In the case of the world as a whole, the active cause is God. To discover the beginning of the world through reason, one would need access to God’s innermost designs, which is impossible through reason alone. This is precisely what knowledge through revelation brings us: at the beginning of Genesis, it tells us that the world began.

Let us conclude. There is a philosophical notion of creation: the dependence of all being on God. The discipline that studies this notion is metaphysics. However, there is also a theological notion of creation. This goes further and includes, in particular, the affirmation of a beginning of the world.

St. Thomas Aquinas’ original position in this debate shows a subtle articulation between faith and reason. Reason has access to an essential element of the doctrine of creation: the dependence of being on God. But it does not have access to the beginning of the world, which is accessible only to faith. The fact that it does have a beginning bears witness to God’s wisdom and His plan for creatures. It is not only a fact revealed by Scripture but, also, a reason to contemplate God’s transcendence and power.

V. The Order of Creation

As we have seen, creation concerns the dependence of realities on God in their being, as well as their beginning, which is a sign of this dependence. So far, we have considered each creature in its individuality. However, when we speak of creation, we are also speaking of all creatures as a whole. This whole is hierarchical and ordered.

Thomas Aquinas particularly emphasized this truth, as Pope Francis recalls in the encyclical Laudato si, which itself refers to the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

The universe as a whole, in all its manifold relationships, shows forth the inexhaustible riches of God. Saint Thomas Aquinas wisely noted that multiplicity and variety “come from the intention of the first agent” who willed that “what was wanting to one in the representation of the divine goodness might be supplied by another” (<em>ST</em> I, q. 47, a.1) inasmuch as God’s goodness “could not be represented fittingly by any one creature” (<em>ST</em> I, q. 47, a.1). Hence we need to grasp the variety of things in their multiple relationships (<em>ST</em> I, q. 2 ad 1, a. 3). We understand better the importance and meaning of each creature if we contemplate it within the entirety of God’s plan. As the Catechism teaches: “God wills the interdependence of creatures. The sun and the moon, the cedar and the little flower, the eagle and the sparrow: the spectacle of their countless diversities and inequalities tells us that no creature is self-sufficient. Creatures exist only in dependence on each other, to complete each other, in the service of each other. (CCC no. 340) (<em>Laudato si</em>, no. 86)

The theology of St. Thomas helps us understand the mutual relationships between creatures. In this theological articulation, creation is viewed within the broad context of the departure (exitus) of all things from God and their return (reditus) to him. However, the ordering of creatures to God does not exhaust our consideration of their purpose. Creatures’ ordering towards God is their primary ordering, but they also have a secondary ordering, which consists in the ordering of creatures in relation to each other (Thomas Aquinas, In II Sent., d. 1, q. 2, a. 3). This is why the universe is a cosmos, that is, a harmonious whole, and not a patchwork of realities juxtaposed side-by-side. This is what Thomas Aquinas calls the “distinction of creatures.” As we shall see below, this theme is now confronted with the scientific theory of evolution.

Therefore, the study of creation cannot be limited to the study of the appearance of creatures in being. It must be extended into the study of the mutual order among creatures and their relationship to God. As we have seen, at the beginning of the second book of the Summa contra Gentiles (SCG bk. 2, ch. 2), Thomas explains why believers cannot remain content with studying only the divine nature but must extend their contemplation to a consideration of creatures. The first reason offered emphasizes the possibility of contemplating divine wisdom in the created universe. It is especially in the study of the order of creatures that wisdom can be contemplated:

God brought things into being through his wisdom. That is why it is said in Psalm [103:24]: “You have made all things in wisdom.” Therefore, through consideration of what has been made [by God], we can reason to the divine wisdom, which is, as it were, spread throughout created things by a certain communication of its likeness. (SCG, bk. 2, ch. 2)

While the study of each creature highlights the divine power that gives being, consideration of the order of creatures (i.e., their good arrangement), opens out upon the contemplation of Divine Wisdom. God is like a good craftsman who arranges all things for His creation. Thomas Aquinas devoted detailed reflection to this aspect of divine creation, which he calls the distinction of creatures. We will first see what he means by this, then we will study more specifically the distinction of bodily creatures before questioning the scientific theory of evolution, which seems to challenge it.

The Distinction of Creatures

In the Summa theologiae, St. Thomas divides his study of creatures into three parts:

• The production of creatures (ST I, q. 44–46), which covers the divine causality, the definition of creation ex nihilo, and the beginning of the world.
• The distinction between creatures (ST I, q. 47–102), which is the theme we will be discussing here.
• The preservation and governance of creatures (q. 103–119), that is, their maintenance in being and the way that God leads them toward their ultimate end.

We can see that the distinction of creatures occupies an important part of this study. This part is itself divided into five sub-parts:

• Distinction in general (q. 47)
• The distinction between good and evil (q. 48–49)
• Purely spiritual creatures, i.e., angels (q. 50–64)
• Purely bodily creatures (q. 65–74)
• Man, both spiritual and bodily (q. 75–102)

Question 47 is illuminating in explaining the very nature of the distinction between creatures. It shows that the distinction comes from God (a. 1) and that it implies both inequality (a. 2) and unity (a. 3).

To show that the distinction comes from God, Thomas refutes two theories. The first attributes the origin of the distinction to chance. The medieval Doctor finds this idea among the pre-Socratic philosophers, who made matter the ultimate principle of change. They explained what the universe was made of but not why it had come together in this particular way. For example, for Democritus and the atomists, atoms are the material principles of things, which come together and break apart at random when particles collide. Therefore, the existence of such determined things is entirely random. These theories are not so far removed from the modern materialist views, in which the emergence of higher realities is explained by the existence of lower realities and the randomness of genetic mutations. Jacques Monod’s famous book, published in 1970, entitled Chance and Necessity, is fully in line with this perspective and is, philosophically speaking, only a more evolved version of a pre-Socratic philosophy.

The second theory refuted by Thomas Aquinas is more distant from us, but it was very current in the Middle Ages. It attributed the distinction of creatures not to God but to intermediate creatures. Thomas here has in mind Avicenna’s emanationism, which we discussed above, according to which God’s unity meant that He could not condescend to create the many. Therefore, according to him, the physical universe was the result of a series of emanations from one intelligence to the next leading to physical plurality. This view takes a negative view of physicality, seeing it only as a kind of degradation of being in relation to God.

In response to these errors, Thomas shows that the distinction between creatures comes from God. The fundamental reason for this is that God creates in order to manifest His goodness:

God produces things in being in order to communicate his goodness to creatures and to represent his goodness through them. And because a single creature would not represent it sufficiently, he produced creatures that are multiple and diverse in their mode of goodness, so that what one lacks in representing divine goodness is supplemented by another. Thus, the goodness that is in God in the mode of simplicity and uniformity exists in the mode of multiplicity and division in creatures. (<em>ST</em> I, q. 47, a. 1, resp.)

The divine origin of the distinction between creatures is evident in the first chapter of Genesis, where God distinguishes light from darkness, dry land from water, day from night, etc. Each creature represents the Divine Goodness in its own way. God cannot be adequately represented by a single finite creature, and a group of creatures represents Him more adequately. Here, we once again have an argument from fittingness.

The distinction between creatures has two consequences: creatures are unequal and enjoy a unity of order. In fact, their distinction is twofold, either material or formal. Two individuals can be different in material terms while being strictly identical in formal terms. For example, the sugar cubes in a box are all (almost) identical, yet they differ in their matter, which allows a large number of them to be present in a single box. In addition to this material distinction, there is a formal distinction. The universe is composed of different forms: inanimate objects, plants, animals, and humans. These forms are hierarchical, with some being more perfect than others. Therefore, the formal distinction is most important, and the material distinction exists only for the sake of the formal distinction. There are several animals of the same species so that the species can be preserved.

Nonetheless, this inequality leads to a certain unity through a unity of order. Lower creatures exist for the sake of higher creatures, like the gazelle destined to feed the lion. Thus, unity is not uniformity but, rather, a richness that makes up the beauty and complexity of the biological universe.

The Distinction between Bodily Creatures

The first part of the Summa theologiae presents many questions concerning the distinction between creatures. After defining distinction in general (q. 47), St. Thomas discusses the distinction between good and evil (q. 48–49) and then creatures themselves, divided into three groups: purely spiritual creatures (q. 50–64), purely bodily creatures (q. 65–74), and man, composed of a spiritual nature and a bodily nature (q. 75–102). This tripartite division comes from Peter Lombard{14} and was canonized by the Fourth Lateran Council:

We firmly believe and simply confess that there is one only true God… the sole principle of all things; creator of all things visible and invisible, spiritual and bodily, who by His omnipotent power, at once from the beginning of time, created both orders of creatures from nothing, the spiritual and the corporeal—namely, the angelic and the worldly—and thereafter the human creature, as it were common to both, constituted of spirit and body. (<em>Constitution Firmiter</em>, Lateran IV, Denzinger 800)

The council lists the three groups of creatures in this order: spiritual, bodily, and human. Thus, this tripartite division was canonical in the thirteenth century.

The distinction between bodily creatures has a special place. Indeed, St. Thomas noted that the way that Scripture accounts for the distinction between creatures is a narrative that focuses on bodily creatures. In the first chapter of Genesis, the angels are not mentioned, which raised questions for many Church Fathers. They read the creation of angels in the first verse under the mention of the creation of heaven or on the first day, signified by the creation of light. For St. Augustine, the first verse signifies the creation of angels and the first day (the creation of light) signifies their choice (or rejection) of God (Augustine, De Genesi ad litteram, 1.9).

Nonetheless, the six days of creation explicitly signify the creation of material realities. For St. Thomas, this provides an opportunity to elaborate in great detail the distinction between creatures through their metaphysical principles, in particular their matter and form. We will give some details on the treatise on purely bodily creatures before studying the place of man within the universe.{15}

The Treatise on Pure Bodily Creatures

Thomas received from Peter Lombard a division of the first chapter of Genesis into three stages: (1) The creation of all things in an unformed state (Gn 1:1-2), called the opus creationis; then (2) the first three days of creation, which constitute the fundamental parts of the world, called opus distinctionis; and finally (3) the last three days of creation, which give these parts their inhabitants, called opus ornatus. Although this scheme was already present in embryonic form in Albert the Great, it was Thomas Aquinas who gave it its classic form.

Thomas does not merely describe the organization of the six days of creation. In this schema, he sees the creation of the principles of bodily realities. According to Aristotle, every substance is composed of matter and form: for example, a statue is made of bronze (its matter) and represents a god (its form). These principles are found in all bodily realities. Thomas interprets the first chapter of Genesis as indicating the creation of these principles. Indeed, the opus creationis establishes the matter of all things; the opus distinctionis establishes the fundamental forms of the universe; and the opus ornatus constitutes the species of things.

The question that remains is the status of these stages. Are they to be understood in a temporal sense or only in the sense of what Thomas calls “the order of nature,” which refers to a hierarchy of principles (i.e., since form is created in matter, matter is in some way prior to it, even if the two appear at the same time)? On this question, the Church Fathers had different opinions: “Augustine held that the formlessness of bodily matter did not temporally precede its formation, but only in origin or order of nature. But others, such as Basil, Ambrose, and John Chrysostom, held that the formlessness of matter temporally preceded its formation” (ST I, q. 66, a. 1, resp.).

This dispute should not trouble believers: Scripture requires us to affirm that all things come from God, and that everything in them comes from God (the fact of creation). But different interpretations can be compatible with the text of Scripture, and this is the case regarding the mode of creation, namely whether it is according to the order of time or the order of nature. In his commentary on the Sentences, St. Thomas Aquinas states that he prefers (like Albert the Great) Augustine’s opinion concerning an order of nature, which allows for a better defense of the dogma of creation against unbelievers. This statement is still relevant today, when we know with even greater certainty that the world was not created in six twenty-four-hour days (although it should be remembered that medieval thinkers never interpreted the six days of creation in this way, the days at most being temporal stages).

In both opinions, there is an order within creatures that highlights God's wisdom: “If, according to the other Fathers, formlessness temporally preceded the formation of matter, this was not because God had been powerlessness in the face of matter but, rather, because of his wisdom, so that order might be preserved in the establishment of realities, so that they might be led from the imperfect to the perfect” (ST I, q. 66, a. 1, ad 4).

Thus, as we saw above with regard to the beginning of the world, creation is a manifestation of God’s power: creatures depend on God for their being. But the distinction between creatures—that is, their order and the origin of this order in God—manifests the wisdom of God, who establishes creation like a good craftsman.

Man’s Place within Physical Creation

The first chapter of Genesis presents the creation of man last, on the sixth day, thus suggesting that man is at the summit of creation. The mission entrusted by God to man and woman bears witness to this: “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves upon the earth” (Gn 1:28). Earlier, we raised questions about this mission in light of the contemporary ecological crisis. We will now attempt to answer them with the help of St. Thomas’s theological reflection.

While developing his account of the order of physical creation, the Dominican theologian evokes the special place of man:

Let us consider that the whole universe is constituted by the sum of all creatures, just as a whole is constituted by its parts. Now, if we wish to determine the final cause of a whole and its parts, we find the following: (1) each of the parts exists for the sake of its actions, just as the eye exists to see; (2) the least noble part is made for the sake of the most noble, as the senses are made for the intellect and the lungs for the heart; and (3) all parts exist for the sake of the perfection of the whole, as matter exists for the sake of form (the parts are in fact a kind of matter for the whole). Finally, the whole human being exists for the sake an extrinsic cause, namely, the enjoyment of God. The same is true for the parts of the universe: (1) each creature exists for its own act and perfection; (2) lesser creatures exist for the sake of greater ones, just as creatures below man are made for the sake of man. Taking this further, each creature is made for the perfection of the universe. And going further still, the entire universe, with each of its parts, is ordered to God as its end, inasmuch as, in these creatures, the divine goodness is represented by a certain imitation that must glorify God. This does not prevent rational creatures from having their end in God in a special and loftier way, for they can attain it by their own operation in knowing and loving him. (<em>ST</em> I, q. 65, a. 2, resp.)

Thomas explains the order of the universe through final causality. The ultimate end of all things is God, but there are also intermediate ends. From this perspective, a creature is ordered to its own act (for example, the end of the eye is to see), then lower creatures are ordered to higher creatures (for example, the end of plants is to feed animals), and the entire universe is ordered to God.

How should we consider man’s place in this whole? On the one hand, he is the highest creature among bodily beings, and thus all bodily creatures are ordered to him. Using lower creatures for food or as helpers (provided that their status as creatures representing the goodness of God is respected) is, therefore, part of the order of the universe willed by God. On the other hand, man is separate from other bodily creatures in that he is made in the image of God, that is, endowed with intellect and will. He can know the truth and love the good, and more specifically, he can attain God through knowledge and love. This capacity, which is rooted in man’s spirituality, makes him a being who transcends corporeal creation and connects him directly to God.

These two aspects stem directly from the fact that man stands at the boundary between the bodily world and the spiritual world, since he is composed of a body and a spiritual soul. They allow us to maintain, on the one hand, that purely bodily creatures have their own dignity because they have received their being from God. St. Augustine and St. Thomas, following in his footsteps, speak of the “vestiges of God” in creation (ST I, q. 93, a. 6). On the other hand, these developments allow us to maintain that man exists at the summit of bodily creation and that the rest of the universe must be ordered to him. This ties in with the theme of man as steward of creation, which we have already mentioned and which Pope Francis developed in the encyclical Laudato si:

This responsibility for God’s earth means that human beings, endowed with intelligence, must respect the laws of nature and the delicate equilibria existing between the creatures of this world, for “he commanded and they were created; and he established them for ever and ever; he fixed their bounds and he set a law which cannot pass away” (Ps 148:5b-6). The laws found in the Bible dwell on relationships, not only among individuals but also with other living beings. “You shall not see your brother’s donkey or his ox fallen down by the way and withhold your help… If you chance to come upon a bird’s nest in any tree or on the ground, with young ones or eggs and the mother sitting upon the young or upon the eggs; you shall not take the mother with the young” (Dt 22:4, 6). Along these same lines, rest on the seventh day is meant not only for human beings, but also so “that your ox and your donkey may have rest” (Ex 23:12). Clearly, the Bible has no place for a tyrannical anthropocentrism unconcerned for other creatures. (<em>Laudato si</em>, no. 68)

Sacred Scripture asks humans to consider lower creatures, which have value in themselves because they are created by God. They are destined to return to God through humans. Sabbath rest does not concern man alone, but all creation. In this vein, in October 2024, Pope Francis spoke of a “sin against creation,” that is, a human act that can break the fragile harmony between man and physical creation or degrade these creatures willed by God.

The Distinction of Creatures and Evolution

Commenting on the first chapter of Genesis, Thomas believes that all physical creatures appeared at the beginning of the world. Since the nineteenth-century emergence of the scientific theory of evolution, we have known that this is not the case. This theory also seems to call into question the assertion of man’s spirituality. Indeed, this theory highlights the animal origin of man by painting a picture of the history of biological species. Therefore, evolution highlights the material continuity of species; however, it raises the question concerning the discontinuity of the forms corresponding to these species. Earlier, we mentioned the distinction between the scientific theory of evolution and evolutionism, which is a materialistic philosophy based on the scientific theory. Evolutionism asserts that since different species originate from matter, they are reducible to these material elements. This philosophy has become very influential. Joseph Ratzinger lamented this in the following terms: “A theory of evolution that comprehensively explains the whole of reality has become a kind of ‘first philosophy’ that represents, so to speak the true foundation of rational understanding of the world.”{16}

In other words, for many, the story of the evolution of species has taken the place of the story of our world’s origin. Above, we emphasized that it had attained the status of a true worldview. Evolution is undoubtedly one of the mechanisms of our world, but it is far from being its most fundamental principle. Only a theology of creation can situate this process in its proper place. To understand this, it is first necessary to clarify the status of the scientific theory of evolution before seeing how it can be understood using Thomas’s principles.

The Theory of Evolution and Evolutionism

Evolution is a scientific theory based on facts. We will clarify the definition of a scientific theory in a moment. However, the materialist philosophy known as “evolutionism” draws on the facts highlighted by scientific theory to produce a global vision of the world. Therefore, it goes beyond science. We saw the example of Social Darwinism above. In a similar vein, Richard Dawkins attempted to use the theory of evolution to explain the emergence of ideas (The Selfish Gene). He applies natural selection to cultural elements (called “memes”): some have a reproductive advantage and become established in society, regardless of their veracity. This would also apply to the emergence of religions. Aware of these dangers of extrapolating from scientific facts into a totalizing worldview, we must now consider more precisely what a scientific theory is and how to interpret it in a philosophy of nature compatible with the Christian religion.

A scientific theory is a proposition that aims to explain facts: it is confirmed by experience and used to predict future events. Scientists start from experience, propose a theory, and then seek to confirm it through experience. Therefore, a kind of back-and-forth exists between theory and experience. Furthermore, a theory never completely corresponds to the facts. When new facts are discovered, the theory must be adapted. Thus, a theoretical explanation is always provisional and subject to revision, even when it has been confirmed by experiment. Theories are therefore successive approximations. However, they are not pure hypotheses, since they rely on validation by experiment. Karl Popper clearly demonstrated this: "So long as theory withstands detailed and severe tests and is not superseded by another theory in the course of scientific progress, we may say that it has 'proved its mettle' or that it is 'corroborated' by past experience."{17}

This is Popper’s well-known notion of falsification: a theory is true until it has been falsified by an experiment that disproves it. In The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Thomas Kuhn described how scientific theories have been improved or replaced by other, more effective theories. For example, at the end of the nineteenth century, Newtonian theory explained most of the trajectories of the planets but was unable to account for certain facts such as the advance of Mercury’s perihelion. (The perihelion is the point in the orbit closest to the Sun.) Faced with the difficulties involved with Newtonian mechanics, Albert Einstein proposed another theory: general relativity. This was confirmed by experiment and became accepted within the scientific community (though not without difficulty at first).

The evolution of species is also a scientific theory. Its explanations are based on two discoveries: first, Darwin’s discoveries explained in On the Origin of Species (1859). His theory can be summarized in three hypotheses: living organisms undergo small variations; these variations are hereditary; and natural selection preserves advantageous variations. However, Darwin does not explain how variations occur. This is where the second discovery comes in, that of the principles of genetic inheritance by Gregor Mendel, also reached in the nineteenth century. These two discoveries led to the synthetic theory of evolution, which takes into account the influence of small mutations on the whole organism and the influence of the evolution of individuals on an entire population. Thus, the appropriate scale for studying the link between genetics and anatomy is at the level of population.

Therefore, evolution is a scientific theory, i.e., a hypothesis about the mechanisms of species-level history confirmed by facts. Like any theory, it runs into difficulties that biologists are trying to resolve.

For example, the theory posits that different species have a common ancestor and that they have gradually diverged from this ancestor. However, the intermediate links that would prove this are rare. A few can be found (for example, the succession of marsupial species in Australia, or Archeopteryx, which is the intermediate species between reptiles and birds), but not enough to see a clear chain of species evolving. This has been one of the major arguments of anti-evolutionists. Nevertheless, the theory of punctuated equilibrium (formalized by Stephen Jay Gould) attempts to address this difficulty by making the credible assumption that evolution does not occur continuously but through major events of speciation. There are no evolutionary leaps, but variations in the speed of evolution (i.e., selection pressure).

The main difficulty with evolution, however, is this: how can we explain that mechanisms as insignificant as genetic mutations can give rise to new organs or even new species?

[Darwinism], even in its most recent forms, explains evolution through mutation and selection. However, mutations, which result from errors in the transcription of the genetic code… do not have a definite relationship with evolution. Those that have been observed are either lethal (harmful or fatal to their carrier), which are the most numerous, or insignificant and random, meaning that they only result in small variations around an average type that remains stable. As a result, it is difficult to see how selection (i.e., the sorting that takes place during the struggle for life, with the survival of the fittest) could have any effect on such small variations. The transformations that have sustained evolution could only have been directed in the same direction, long before the resulting organ had any use, and these variations had to appear in a coordinated manner to result in a type of organization. Only in this way could an eye, a wing, etc., come into being. However long it may be, geological time is, according to probability calculations, mathematically far too short to have contained the number of trials and errors that mutationism assumes.{18}

The statistical difficulty of explaining the emergence of new species from small mutations has been illustrated by Fred Hoyle’s Boeing 747 argument: the emergence of life on Earth is as unlikely as a Boeing 747 being assembled by a hurricane sweeping through a junkyard. This argument is refuted by Richard Dawkins (The God Delusion, 2006), who counters it with concrete evidence that life did, in fact, appear on Earth. Nevertheless, the question remains: how can we explain the emergence of more from less? Michael Behe calls this “irreducible complexity” (Michael Behe, Darwin’s Black Box, 1996), that is, complexity that cannot be reduced to its basic components. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Therefore, the theory of evolution requires an explanation for the appearance of forms in the universe. For, according to Aristotle’s philosophy, a substance is made up of both matter and form. The scientific theory of evolution accounts for the continuity of matter, from the simplest elements to humans, who are composed of the same elements. However, it does not provide an account of the appearance of new forms. This is where the thinking of Thomas Aquinas can prove fruitful.

How St. Thomas' Principles Enable Us to Interpret the Theory of Evolution

Thomas Aquinas is particularly attentive to causality, and refuses to hold that the First Cause and secondary causes (nature) act in a parallel, concurrent fashion. God is creator but this does not imply that nature is passive; on the contrary, natural causalities are given their due place in his metaphysics.  This is what Jacques Maritain expresses in a text dedicated to the question of evolution:

In consideration of the evolution of species, we must consider two distinct causalities. First, there is the causality of the Creator of being, and His super-elevating and super-transformative motion (whereas divine motion is only a directive motion in the evolutionary movement proper to typical embryonic development, which—under the regulation of the power of the generative act emanating from the substantial form or soul of the progenitors—is carried out with a view to maintaining the specific type in its stability, which is not the case in the evolutionary movement proper to the evolution of species).

Second, we must consider, as a subordinated yet truly real and truly active cause—the omission of which would be a serious error—the causality of the living being itself (of the living being of the evolutionary lineage), whose immanent activity, under the super-elevating motion of the First Cause, invents—through the self-regulating process proper to living beings—something new which, first affecting its own organism, will pass into its gonads and into the power of the generative act. Thus the living being (whose form then captures and actualizes the very aspiration—now awakened—of matter toward whatever higher forms of the same metaphysical degree, and toward a form of a higher metaphysical degree) itself cooperates in becoming—at least in its descendants—better than it is, and in carrying life over to higher specific degrees, trans-natural with respect to the nature of the living beings of the species undergoing this mutation.{19}

Thus, according to Maritain, there are two levels of causality. Since the greater cannot come from the lesser, the appearance of higher species can ultimately only come from God’s own causality. This causality is, according to Maritain, “super-elevating” and “super-forming”: it brings about something new in biological species. Moreover, this creative causality is realized in the work of nature itself, which also exercises a real, but secondary, causality.

The scientific theory of evolution thus honors two great principles of St. Thomas. The first principle is that the causality of natural realities does not overshadow divine causality but magnifies it. According to the Book of Wisdom, "the greatness and beauty of creatures make them, by analogy, contemplate their Author" (Wis 13:5).

The second principle comes from Aristotle and accounts for physical realities based on their becoming, highlighting the distinction between matter and form. Now, according to Aristotle and St. Thomas, matter has an appetite for form. This is not a conscious desire (since matter has no consciousness) but an ordination: matter is ordered to form and to its end.{20} St. Thomas shows this universal orientation of matter toward form in the process of human embryonic generation:

There are certain degrees in the acts of forms. For raw matter is first in potency to the form of the element. And existing in the form of the element, it is in potency to the form of the composite: this is why the elements are the matter of the composite. Considered in the form of the composite, it is in potentiality to the vegetative soul: for [this] soul is the act of such a body. And likewise, the vegetative soul is in potentiality to the sensitive [soul]; and the sensitive [soul] to the intellective [soul]. This is shown by the course of generation: for in generation, the fetus first lives a plant life, then an animal life, and finally a human life. After this form, there is no later and more worthy form to be found in things subject to generation and corruption. Therefore, the ultimate end of all generation is the human soul, and matter tends towards it as towards its ultimate form. Therefore, the elements exist in view of mixed bodies, and these are in view of living beings. Among the latter, plants exist in view of animals, and animals in view of man. Thus, man is the end of all generation. (<em>SCG</em>, bk. 3, ch. 22)

Thomas Aquinas draws on the knowledge of his era and sees in human generation a progressive disposition towards the reception of the human soul. While today’s knowledge allows us to see that the soul is infused from the first moment of conception, this text is nevertheless interesting for the vision of the hierarchy of the universe that it proposes. Matter tends toward higher forms as its end, and the form of humanity is the ultimate end of the universe (at the level of nature). This embryological vision can be transposed to the entire universe based on the scientific theory of evolution.

The philosophy of nature (or "physics") studies the physical world based on change and accounts for the nature of realities, defined as the principle of their movement. The scientific theory of evolution highlights a new aspect of the significance of becoming in the world by revealing that species have a history and that this history is oriented towards man. Thomas Aquinas had no access to this truth, but it echoes his intuition about the importance of change in the physical world and the truth of man’s superiority.

Conclusion

This article has presented the main elements of the theology of creation. Scripture affirms both the power and wisdom of God at work in creatures, both in their being and in their order. The Church Fathers and medieval theologians sought to account for this in the face of attacks on the faith and from the perspective of understanding the faith.

The theology of creation directs man toward God, inviting him to contemplate God and to be the steward of creation. To see the world as the fruit of God’s plan of love and wisdom leads man to return to Him by doing good deeds. It is to this right creaturely attitude that St. Irenaeus of Lyon invites us:

It is not you who make God, but God who makes you. If, therefore, you are the work of God, wait patiently for the Hand of your Artist, who does all things in due time—in due time, I say, in relation to you who are made. Present him with a supple and docile heart and keep the form that this Artist has given you, having within you the Water that comes from him and without which, by hardening yourself, you would reject the imprint of his fingers. By keeping this conformation, you will rise to perfection, for through God’s artistry, the clay that is in you will be hidden. His Hand created your substance; it will clothe you in pure gold and silver inside and out, and it will adorn you so well that the King himself will be enamored of your beauty. But if, by hardening yourself, you reject his art and show yourself dissatisfied with what he has made you, man, because of your ingratitude toward God, you have rejected both his art and life: for to make is proper to the goodness of God, and to be made is proper to the nature of man. Therefore, if you surrender to him what is yours, that is, faith in him and submission, you will receive the benefit of his art and you will be the perfect work of God.{21}

[Translated from French by Matthew K. Minerd.]