Friday, April 3, 2015
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Aristotle: The Four Causes: Chance and Finality. Is the Universe Designed? Sec.2 2(3)
Change as Natural Tendency to
Self-Realization
According to Aristotle nature is (a) a principle
of movement and rest within a thing (all beings that have such a principle are
“natural,” they act by “nature”), (b) nature constitutes the essence of a
“this something,” (c) nature is the source of the tendency and action-movement
towards actualization.
We already noticed that form contributes to
a being its actuality, its essence, and it constitutes the being's internal
finality. It is the final cause inside the thing. Aristotle identifies “nature”
many times in his writings with “essence,” “whatness,” and consequently with
form. “The term according to nature” is applied to all these things and also to
the attributes which belong to them in virtue of what they are.” 8
In another place he says „The form is ‘nature' rather than matter.”9
The nature of a thing is revealed in the
process of growth (change) by which its complete fullness is attained. The
internal movement is initiated by nature, but on the other hand, nature is
attained, completely realized in that process. Then Aristotle expressly
affirms: “But the nature is the end or “that for the sake of which.”10
But “that for the sake of which” means what is best and the end of things that
lead up to it.11
To confirm this further Aristotle stresses:
“Now, the causes being four, it is the business of the physicist to know about
them all, and if he refers his problems back to all of them, he will assign the
'why' proper to his science–the matter, the form, the mover, that for the sake
of which. The last three often coincide for the 'what' and ‘that for the sake
of which’ are one.”12
Nature itself therefore plays the role of final
cause. This identity is very clearly stated by Aristotle: “Therefore action for
an end is present in things which come to be and are by nature.”13 Both
artificial and natural products are therefore for ends. Aristotle mentions
animals other than man which make things neither by art nor after deliberation:
spiders, ants. He also mentions plants.
If then it is both by nature and for an end
that the swallow makes its nest and the spider its web, and plants grow leaves
for the sake of the fruit and send their roots down (not up) for the sake of
nourishment, it is plain that this kind of cause is operative in things which
come to be and are by nature. And since “nature” means two things, the matter
and the form, of which the latter is the end, and since all the rest is for the
sake of the end, the form must be the same in the sense of “that for the sake
of which.”14
Aristotle concludes: “It is absurd to
suppose that purpose is not present because we do not observe the agent
deliberating.”15 It is clear from the above quotations that for
Aristotle all natural tendency is finally directed. Nature is operating for a
purpose. Change as natural tendency is self-realization at which the transition
aims. This “aim” or “end” is the actualizing or the full completion of the
form, which, as Aristotle stated above, very often is identified with “that for
the sake of which,” the purpose, the goal: the final cause.
Finality therefore or purposiveness is
rooted in the very nature of all natural beings. It can be stated that this is
a fundamental principle of the entire universe. Aristotle affirms towards the
end of the Physics that anyone who denies finality in Nature denies natures
themselves.
Chance and Finality
Within the Aristotelian system Nature is
radically pervaded by Telos. It can become intelligible only if we see it as a
universe through and through teleological.
In Chapters 4 to 6 of Physics II Aristotle
discusses the problem of chance and spontaneity, complaining that: “There are
some who ascribe this heavenly sphere and all the worlds to spontaneity. They
say that the vortex arose spontaneously, i.e., the motion that separated and
arranged in its present order all that exists.”16 The first thing
Aristotle points out in this context is that chance cannot be the cause of what
happens with constancy or for the most part.17 Constancy and
determinateness cannot be caused by chance, for chance is the exact opposite to
the latter. For Aristotle a thing comes to pass by nature or as a result of
thought or by chance. The disjunction is absolute. Things which happen by
nature or as a result of thought both belong to the class of things which are
for the sake of something. 18 So chance is a name for incidental
events which, however, are secondary by-products of actions by nature or
deliberation. A per se cause by its nature is determinate, whereas incidental
causes are indeterminable and indefinite.19 The incidental occurs
and is possible only within the sphere of what happens by nature of deliberate
intent. “It is clear then that chance is an incidental cause in the sphere of
those actions for the sake of something, which involves purpose.”20
So chance is really not a cause stricto
sensu. It is rather an unintended intersection of different events which happen
by their nature or are deliberately intended. Therefore, it is “contrary to
rule,”21 and as such it is unstable and “none of the things which
result from it can be invariable or normal.” 22 Aristotle further
explains that chance occurs only as the contrary of deliberate intention; hence
it is possible only within the “moral sphere” or where deliberate intention is
present, and thus he excludes it in inanimate things, lower animals, children.
These cannot do anything by chance because of lack of deliberate intentionality
in them. However, he grants to inanimate beings and animals spontaneity.23
Spontaneity results from an action “by nature” but one producing an
unintended result under the influence of an external agent. Spontaneity
connected with deliberate intention may result in “chance.” Both chance and
spontaneity are sources of change since “in this sort of causation the number
of causes is infinite.”24 Their effects remain always incidental and
no incidental cause is prior to cause “per se.” “Hence, however true it may be
that the heavens are due to spontaneity, it will be true that intelligence and
nature will be prior causes of this All and of many things in it besides.”25
In the last statement we can clearly see
that the universe is primarily caused by “intelligence and nature” and these
two belong, as previously stated, to the class of agents which always act for
an end, i.e., for “that for the sake of which.” Finality reigns there.
The evidence for the priority of finality
is, for Aristotle, constancy and determinateness. Both are rooted in the
metaphysical structure of each being and here the form is the final cause.
Prime matter, being their potency, does not contain determination of any kind.
We mean prime matter as such, because there certainly exists a “sequence of
forms” in nature, and prime matter already informed, actualized by some form,
seems to be “disposed” rather to this form than that one. There remains
therefore the form in beings which contributes constancy, determinateness and
finality to Nature. Those few remarks are only logical sequelae of what has
been said before on the role of form within the Aristotelian notion of
finality.
We already mentioned that for Aristotle
chance is incidental, not truly even a cause per se, indeterminate and, so to
say, a secondary by-product within the sphere of what happens “by nature and
deliberation.” As such, chance can never be a source of finality in the
universe in any sense whatsoever; it is by definition its very opposite and can
be conceived only in reference to purpose and order. Direction towards ends is
for Aristotle evident when works of nature are comparable to human actions
whose purposiveness is obvious and cannot be denied. There exists a strong
parallelism and similarity between human purposive activity and the activity of
other beings in Nature. Aristotle says: “If, therefore, artificial products are
for the sake of an end, so clearly also are natural products. The relation of
the later to the earlier terms of the series is the same in both.”26
In another place he emphasizes again: “It
is absurd to suppose that purpose is not present 27 because we do
not observe the agent deliberating.” Deliberation is not necessarily present,
for example, in art, though art is not thereby lacking purpose.
In any ordered series of steps in an action
that tends to a completion, all earlier steps are for the sake of the last one.
“Now surely as in intelligent action so in nature; so it is in each action if
nothing interferes. Now intelligent action is for the sake of an end;
therefore, the nature of things also is so. Thus if a house, e.g., had been a
thing made by nature, it would have been made in the same way as it is now by
art; and if things made by nature were made also by art they would come to be
in the same way as by nature.”28
In human works we observe the determination
of the earlier steps in action by the later and ultimately by the “completion”
the end, the purpose in an intelligent activity. The former steps become “means”
to the later steps which lead to completion in the series. “Future” dominates
the “now.” The “now” is and is determined and produced for the sake of the “not
yet” realized, but intended future achievement. The different elements of
activity are united into a coordinated series and become members of a sequence
of activities as means (moments in the whole flow of action) precisely because
they are necessary and must exist in this and not in another sequence if the
purpose is to be attained. So the very order and determinate sequence of
realization, the ordering of many into a unified series of directed activities
and the regularity with which this ordering necessarily occurs are leading to a
purpose-completion. Directionality which is achieved through and by orderly
sequence already defines the completion as future purpose. There is a
similarity between human intelligent activity and activities that are
accomplished by nature. If in human action the orderly relationship of the
later to the earlier constitutes the finality of the whole activity it is clear
that the same is done by works of nature.
This seems to be the core of the whole
argument. Now since the activity of any being flows from its nature it reveals
the purposive character of works of nature. Aristotle gives examples from the
life and activities of birds and animals. Specifically he mentions spiders,
ants; the way the swallow builds its nest, the spider the network, the ants
their anthills. Later on he mentions plants, and seeds. Ultimately, since
nature means primarily prime matter and form, the form remains the ultimate
principle of action bearing the character of “that for the sake of which.” This
action, however, is purposive, as has been shown.
Aristotle does not even suspect that the
above line of argumentation would be attacked as anthropomorphism. He simply
points to the same elements in human intelligent activity and the works of
natural beings, living and non-living outside of the human sphere. Since he
does not see any difference between the two, his reasoning is for him conclusive:
“It is absurd to suppose that purpose is not present because we do not see the
agent deliberating.” Thus he concludes firmly: “It is plain then that nature is
a cause, a cause that operates for a purpose.”29
The Unforgettable legacy of St. John Paul II
The unforgettable legacy of St John Paul II by Michael Kelly
On the 10th anniversary of John Paul II’s death, Michael Kelly reflects on his powerful pontificate
St John Paul II
I was privileged to live and work in Rome for the latter years of the papacy of a truly great man - Pope St John Paul II. It's hard to believe that it's 10 years today (April 2) since he passed in to eternal life. The memory of those last days are as vivid now as if they were yesterday.
I first saw John Paul II in 2000. I was 21, he was 80. I marvelled as he smiled through the parkinsonian mask that was becoming more and more evident with his declining years. "Do not give up on hope!" he told me and over two million young Catholics who had gathered in Rome for World Youth Day. John Paul II loved young people - he drew energy from them. I saw it time and again, he arrived at a ceremony frail and gradually strengthened by the presence and witness of young Catholics.
He was a captivating man and the final days of his earthly life had a profound effect on me. I vividly recall those days in Rome. I was working as a young reporter in the Eternal City and had become accustomed to the regular health scares around the ailing Pontiff. I, like many other colleagues, had spent endless hours outside Rome’s Gemelli Hospital. But on every occasion, the Pope rallied and returned to the Vatican.
To us, he was almost invincible. Almost.
Late on the evening of Thursday March 31 news started to filter through that the Holy Father had taken another turn for the worse. But this was more serious. On this occasion, John Paul II and his doctors decided that he would not go to hospital, he would instead be cared for in the Papal Apartment.
It became obvious very quickly that the Pope was nearing his end after more than 26 years guiding the universal Church.
What followed was remarkable. St Peter’s Square quickly became a shrine as pilgrims – most of them young people – came to pray. They too knew that the Pope who had led the Church during most of their lives was reaching the end of his strength. All eyes were peeled on the bedroom window on the Apostolic Palace. By the following evening, Friday, tens of thousands of Romans and visitors gathered in churches across the city to pray for their bishop. Meanwhile, the world’s media descended on the Vatican as ever-more-sombre bulletins about the Pontiff’s deteriorating health were issued.
Broke down
On Saturday afternoon, the chief Vatican spokesman Dr JoaquÃn Navarro-Valls said what we all knew when he broke down during a media update. “I’ve never seen him like this,” the Pope’s long-time aide said fighting back tears.
I was working on the English desk of Vatican Radio on Saturday afternoon when I was handed a communique to read out on air:
“The general, cardio-respiratory and metabolic conditions of the Holy Father are substantially unchanged and therefore are very serious.
“As of dawn this morning, the start of a compromised state of consciousness was observed. Mass was celebrated at 7:30 this morning in the presence of the Pope.
“Last evening the Pope probably had in mind the young people whom he has met throughout the world during his pontificate. In fact, he seemed to be referring to them when, in his words, and repeated several times, he seemed to have said the following sentence: ‘I have looked for you. Now you have come to me. And I thank you’,” the communique concluded.
I had a lump in my throat as I read it. I too had been one of those young people who had encountered John Paul II during World Youth Day in Rome in the year 2000. “Do not be satisfied with mediocrity,” was his repeated call to us. My first encounter with the Polish Pontiff during that Jubilee Year had a profound effect on me as I saw how he radiated the love of Christ for everyone, particularly young people.
As darkness descended on Rome on Saturday evening thousands of sombre pilgrims made their way to St Peter’s Square. All over the city, people waited for news of the Pope’s condition. The faithful prayed the rosary in St Peter’s Square as the lights in the Papal Apartment continued to burn. Inside, however, John Paul II was in his last moments.
Shortly after 9.45pm, Archbishop Leonardo Sandri, who had been leading the rosary interrupted the prayer with the simple words: “Our Holy Father John Paul has returned to the house of the Father…We all feel like orphans this evening.”
Many pilgrims wept openly, or hugged one another for comfort. I was struck by the spontaneous round of applause.
I was with colleagues from RTÉ on a rooftop nearby when the news of the Pope’s death came through. I quickly took off my tie and replaced it with a black one which I had been carrying around ready to go on air and discuss the legacy of the man who had led the Church through good times and bad for my entire life. There was work to be done: the job of a journalist is to tell a story, to enter into people’s lives and homes at such important moments is a privilege. I was broadcasting with Miriam O’Callaghan with the Papal Apartment in the background assessing what can only be described as a truly remarkable Papacy. I was profoundly struck when, one by one, the lights in the Papal Apartment began to go out until it was in complete darkness. It spoke powerfully of how people felt.
News quickly began to filter out. At around 3.30pm, John Paul II spoke his final words in Polish, “Pozwólcie mi odejść do domu Ojca” (Allow me to depart to the house of the Father) and fell into a coma about four hours later.
Bedside
The Mass of the vigil of Divine Mercy Sunday had just been celebrated at his bedside, presided over by Archbishop Stanisław Dziwisz and two Polish priests. Present at the bedside was a cardinal from Ukraine who served as a priest with John Paul in Poland, along with Polish nuns of the Congregation of the Sisters Servants of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, who ran the papal household.
John Paul died at 9.37pm of heart failure from profound hypotension and complete circulatory collapse from septic shock, 46 days short of his 85th birthday.
I spent a lot of time around St Peter's Square that evening as pilgrims recited the rosary, each in his or her own language. The rhythm of the ritual soothed weary and sad hearts.
As I wandered home in the early hours of the following morning I reflected on what John Paul II had meant to the world. On what he had meant to Catholics in every corner of the globe and what he had meant to me. All over the city in restaurants, shops and bars signs were in the window: “Farewell Holy Father”. The early-morning buses getting ready for their routs all had black flags. There too were the banners “Santo Subito” – make him a saint immediately. The Church had lost its Pope and Rome had lost its Bishop.
I thought of the words he uttered at his inauguration in 1978 and repeated in almost every country on earth: “Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors for Christ!” I thought about how my parents told and re-told me stories of the Pope’s visit to Drogheda when I was just a few months old. How he had proclaimed in a strong voice “let history record that at a difficult moment in the experience of the people of Ireland, the Bishop of Rome set foot in your land, that he was with you and prayed with you for peace and reconciliation, for the victory of justice and love over hatred and violence”. Yes, John Paul II came to be with us.
Heroic
I thought about the many lives that John Paul II had transformed, at the many people whom he touched by his heroic witness. I thought of his childhood and adolescence marked by those cruel ideologies of Nazism and communism that sought to destroy his Polish homeland.
I thought about his great love for young people. His call for them to be ambassadors for a new civilisation of love. In 2002, he said in Canada: “I have seen enough evidence to be unshakably convinced that no difficulty, no fear is so great that it can completely suffocate the hope that springs eternal in the hearts of the young.
“You are our hope, the young are our hope,” he said.
I thought about his declining health, about how his illness radically challenged the belief that older people, the sick, the dying are redundant. I thought of his last visit to Lourdes in 2004 when he spoke as a “sick man among the sick”.
I shed a tear as I thought about the extraordinary gift that the man Karol Wojtyla had been to the world and to me personally. And I said a prayer that he would continue to lead and guide us from Heaven.
The greatest of great men had indeed returned to his Father.
St John Paul II, pray for us.
I first saw John Paul II in 2000. I was 21, he was 80. I marvelled as he smiled through the parkinsonian mask that was becoming more and more evident with his declining years. "Do not give up on hope!" he told me and over two million young Catholics who had gathered in Rome for World Youth Day. John Paul II loved young people - he drew energy from them. I saw it time and again, he arrived at a ceremony frail and gradually strengthened by the presence and witness of young Catholics.
He was a captivating man and the final days of his earthly life had a profound effect on me. I vividly recall those days in Rome. I was working as a young reporter in the Eternal City and had become accustomed to the regular health scares around the ailing Pontiff. I, like many other colleagues, had spent endless hours outside Rome’s Gemelli Hospital. But on every occasion, the Pope rallied and returned to the Vatican.
To us, he was almost invincible. Almost.
Late on the evening of Thursday March 31 news started to filter through that the Holy Father had taken another turn for the worse. But this was more serious. On this occasion, John Paul II and his doctors decided that he would not go to hospital, he would instead be cared for in the Papal Apartment.
It became obvious very quickly that the Pope was nearing his end after more than 26 years guiding the universal Church.
What followed was remarkable. St Peter’s Square quickly became a shrine as pilgrims – most of them young people – came to pray. They too knew that the Pope who had led the Church during most of their lives was reaching the end of his strength. All eyes were peeled on the bedroom window on the Apostolic Palace. By the following evening, Friday, tens of thousands of Romans and visitors gathered in churches across the city to pray for their bishop. Meanwhile, the world’s media descended on the Vatican as ever-more-sombre bulletins about the Pontiff’s deteriorating health were issued.
Broke down
On Saturday afternoon, the chief Vatican spokesman Dr JoaquÃn Navarro-Valls said what we all knew when he broke down during a media update. “I’ve never seen him like this,” the Pope’s long-time aide said fighting back tears.
I was working on the English desk of Vatican Radio on Saturday afternoon when I was handed a communique to read out on air:
“The general, cardio-respiratory and metabolic conditions of the Holy Father are substantially unchanged and therefore are very serious.
“As of dawn this morning, the start of a compromised state of consciousness was observed. Mass was celebrated at 7:30 this morning in the presence of the Pope.
“Last evening the Pope probably had in mind the young people whom he has met throughout the world during his pontificate. In fact, he seemed to be referring to them when, in his words, and repeated several times, he seemed to have said the following sentence: ‘I have looked for you. Now you have come to me. And I thank you’,” the communique concluded.
I had a lump in my throat as I read it. I too had been one of those young people who had encountered John Paul II during World Youth Day in Rome in the year 2000. “Do not be satisfied with mediocrity,” was his repeated call to us. My first encounter with the Polish Pontiff during that Jubilee Year had a profound effect on me as I saw how he radiated the love of Christ for everyone, particularly young people.
As darkness descended on Rome on Saturday evening thousands of sombre pilgrims made their way to St Peter’s Square. All over the city, people waited for news of the Pope’s condition. The faithful prayed the rosary in St Peter’s Square as the lights in the Papal Apartment continued to burn. Inside, however, John Paul II was in his last moments.
Shortly after 9.45pm, Archbishop Leonardo Sandri, who had been leading the rosary interrupted the prayer with the simple words: “Our Holy Father John Paul has returned to the house of the Father…We all feel like orphans this evening.”
Many pilgrims wept openly, or hugged one another for comfort. I was struck by the spontaneous round of applause.
I was with colleagues from RTÉ on a rooftop nearby when the news of the Pope’s death came through. I quickly took off my tie and replaced it with a black one which I had been carrying around ready to go on air and discuss the legacy of the man who had led the Church through good times and bad for my entire life. There was work to be done: the job of a journalist is to tell a story, to enter into people’s lives and homes at such important moments is a privilege. I was broadcasting with Miriam O’Callaghan with the Papal Apartment in the background assessing what can only be described as a truly remarkable Papacy. I was profoundly struck when, one by one, the lights in the Papal Apartment began to go out until it was in complete darkness. It spoke powerfully of how people felt.
News quickly began to filter out. At around 3.30pm, John Paul II spoke his final words in Polish, “Pozwólcie mi odejść do domu Ojca” (Allow me to depart to the house of the Father) and fell into a coma about four hours later.
Bedside
The Mass of the vigil of Divine Mercy Sunday had just been celebrated at his bedside, presided over by Archbishop Stanisław Dziwisz and two Polish priests. Present at the bedside was a cardinal from Ukraine who served as a priest with John Paul in Poland, along with Polish nuns of the Congregation of the Sisters Servants of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, who ran the papal household.
John Paul died at 9.37pm of heart failure from profound hypotension and complete circulatory collapse from septic shock, 46 days short of his 85th birthday.
I spent a lot of time around St Peter's Square that evening as pilgrims recited the rosary, each in his or her own language. The rhythm of the ritual soothed weary and sad hearts.
As I wandered home in the early hours of the following morning I reflected on what John Paul II had meant to the world. On what he had meant to Catholics in every corner of the globe and what he had meant to me. All over the city in restaurants, shops and bars signs were in the window: “Farewell Holy Father”. The early-morning buses getting ready for their routs all had black flags. There too were the banners “Santo Subito” – make him a saint immediately. The Church had lost its Pope and Rome had lost its Bishop.
I thought of the words he uttered at his inauguration in 1978 and repeated in almost every country on earth: “Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors for Christ!” I thought about how my parents told and re-told me stories of the Pope’s visit to Drogheda when I was just a few months old. How he had proclaimed in a strong voice “let history record that at a difficult moment in the experience of the people of Ireland, the Bishop of Rome set foot in your land, that he was with you and prayed with you for peace and reconciliation, for the victory of justice and love over hatred and violence”. Yes, John Paul II came to be with us.
Heroic
I thought about the many lives that John Paul II had transformed, at the many people whom he touched by his heroic witness. I thought of his childhood and adolescence marked by those cruel ideologies of Nazism and communism that sought to destroy his Polish homeland.
I thought about his great love for young people. His call for them to be ambassadors for a new civilisation of love. In 2002, he said in Canada: “I have seen enough evidence to be unshakably convinced that no difficulty, no fear is so great that it can completely suffocate the hope that springs eternal in the hearts of the young.
“You are our hope, the young are our hope,” he said.
I thought about his declining health, about how his illness radically challenged the belief that older people, the sick, the dying are redundant. I thought of his last visit to Lourdes in 2004 when he spoke as a “sick man among the sick”.
I shed a tear as I thought about the extraordinary gift that the man Karol Wojtyla had been to the world and to me personally. And I said a prayer that he would continue to lead and guide us from Heaven.
The greatest of great men had indeed returned to his Father.
St John Paul II, pray for us.
.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
CE Podcast The Catholic Exchange podcast is your daily source for spiritual encouragement and information.
CE Podcast The Catholic Exchange podcast is your daily source for spiritual encouragement and information. Our goal is to help make saints in our time. Join Michael J. Lichens and several CE authors discussing articles and the latest topics.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Aristotle :The Four Causes - Every Agent acts for an end. Is the Universe Designed? Sec.2 Part 1(2)
Aristotle
Aristotle is the first philosopher in the
Greek tradition who developed the full technical analysis of final cause. He is
fully aware of that fact and expresses this awareness when he criticizes his
predecessors for failing to understand the crucial value of final cause.for any
serious philosophical explanation of reality.1 This philosophy of
final cause is found mainly in the first book of his Metaphysics and the second
book of Physics. Occasionally he develops the concept of final cause in other
places within the body of his writings. The Aristotelian notion of final cause
deserves a thorough examination on two counts: (a) he is the first one to give
complete metaphysical analysis of final cause, and (b) he influenced in this
respect very deeply the thought of Thomas Aquinas and many other thinkers in
the West.
The Explanation of Change Through
the Employment of the Idea of Act and Potency.
Without a clear knowledge of change (or
motion) there is no understanding of the nature of things since by nature
Aristotle understands that which is the origin of motion and change. “For those
things are natural which by a continuous movement originated from an internal
principle arrive at some completion, but always the tendency is towards the
same end if there is no impediment.” 2 The essential meaning of
“nature” is for Aristotle “…the essence of those things, which have the
principle of movement in themselves, insofar as they are this something.”3
Nature therefore contains the following elements:
(a) it is a principle, a metaphysical beginning or a source, (b) a
principle of movement or change, (c) it is internal, constitutive of the
essence of a being, (d) it is a tendency to a determined end, (e) it is a
tendency towards a state of completion, perfection, actualization.
From the above it is clear that the
analysis of change is the central focus of the Aristotelian Metaphysics and his
Philosophy of Nature. Confronted with the Parmenidean monism of immutable
being, on the one hand, and the obvious, omnipresent and real fact of change on
the other, Aristotle gave a masterly metaphysical analysis of change and
becoming in dynamical terms. Basic Aristotelian insight in this respect remains
true even today. We shall also see that every natural change is intelligible to
him only through the notion of final cause.
In order to solve the problem of change in
general, Aristotle introduces the notion of potency. This notion of “potency”
as correlative to “act” makes change intelligible. The thing which is changing
is in the process of transition from one mode (terminus a quo), to another mode
of being (terminus ad quern). There are two main types of such transition: one,
called accidental, when one and the same being changes and acquires a new state
retaining its proper nature; a second, called substantial, when the transition
is from one nature to another, a different one. One being ceases to exist and a
new one emerges. At this point we are interested in the first type of change.
It occurs in beings composed of potency and act.
Potency as a metaphysical and internal
component is openness, possibility, capacity for a being to move from one
actual mode of existing to another, a new one. It makes newness intelligible.
By newness here we understand the gradual transition to the “terminus ad quem.”
This transition is always a “transition toward,” never something in itself, but
it is a movement of something which itself changes. Something can be in the
movement of change only insofar as it is actually not yet completed, not having
yet what it can have, not completely realized. It cannot at “terminus a quo” be
already what it becomes at “terminus adquem”. The changing movement is
therefore defined by Aristotle as realization of the potential as such.4
A being can exist in three possible modes:
(a) it is not yet moving, (b) it is in the mode of complete realization, full
completion; then it moves no more, (c) it is in the middle mode of
movement-change, in the transition from one mode of being to another, to its
realization.
Change, therefore, is a state of a being which
does not yet fully realize all the potency of “this something” It still is in
the position to acquire new “points of completion.” Each natural change is an
internal going towards its end perfection, or full realization: towards its
final completion. Each natural movement is for the “where-for” or the “good”
for which the movement occurs. Each natural movement has an aim. This, however,
is the Aristotelian definition of final cause 5 proposed, e.g., in
Metaphysics (Bk. XII, Chap. 1): “For final cause is (a) some being for whose
good an action is done, and (b) something at which the action aims.”6
Since we are considering here internal directionality towards final
actualization, this actualization is precisely “that for the sake of which” and „that at which the action aims.” Both
are Aristotelian definitions of final cause.
It remains to show that the internal
finality in natural beings is identical with the form as final cause. Form is
the essence of “that which is coming to be.”7 For it is clear that
the Aristotelian notion of finality is rooted in the analysis of motion-change.
This analysis, as mentioned above, makes the notion of “nature” very clear.
As a matter of fact, for Aristotle both nature and internal final cause are
identical.
The Courage to Think For Yourself The Search For Truth and The Meaning of Human Life: Christ’s Words from the Cross: 7 Weapons of Victor...
The Courage to Think For Yourself The Search For Truth and The Meaning of Human Life: Christ’s Words from the Cross: 7 Weapons of Victor...: Christ’s Words from the Cross: 7 Weapons of Victory Over Evil
"The Lord never tires of having mercy on us" Pope Francis
Spiritual reflection: “The Lord never tires of having mercy on us”
Pope Francis, Homily, February 2015
Dear brothers and sisters, the Lord never tires of having mercy on us, and wants to offer us His forgiveness once again — we all need it — , inviting us to return to Him with a new heart, purified of evil, purified by tears, to take part in His joy. How should we accept this invitation? St Paul advises us: “We beseech you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God” (2 Cor 5:2...0). This power of conversion is not only the work of mankind, it is letting oneself be reconciled. Reconciliation between us and God is possible thanks to the mercy of the Father who, out of love for us, did not hesitate to sacrifice His only begotten Son. Indeed Christ, who was just and without sin, was made to be sin (cf. v. 21) when, on the Cross, He took on the burden of our sins, and in this way He redeemed and justified us before God. “In Him” we can become just, in Him we can change, if we accept the grace of God and do not allow this “acceptable time” to pass in vain (6:2).
Please, let us stop, let us stop a while and let ourselves be reconciled to God. […] The call to conversion is thus an incentive to return, as the son in the parable did, to the arms of God, gentle and merciful Father, to weep in that embrace, to trust in Him and entrust ourselves to Him.
Painting by Mikhail Nesterov.
Painting by Mikhail Nesterov.
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