Showing posts with label Molinism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Molinism. Show all posts

Friday, January 7, 2022

Philosophical Thoughts on Free Will, Foreknowledge, and Predestination

This article follows up on my article outlining Catholic teaching on free will, grace, and predestination.

The Nature of Free Will

There are two areas of philosophical confusion which, in my observation, tend to make it difficult for people to understand Catholic teaching regarding issues surrounding free will, grace, and predestination.  The first area of confusion has to do with the idea of free will itself.  There is a tendency sometimes for people to focus so much on the freedom of the will that they forget that the will is not completely unpredictable and uncontrollable.  They cannot see how the idea of free will is compatible with the idea that God knows the future and even plans the future.  In Catholic theology, the entire future unfolds, down to its last detail, exactly according to God's foreknowledge and plan (the plan of "predestination").  If that is so, many wonder, how in the world can we really have free will?  For (it would seem) if God infallibly knows everything I am going to do in the future and even has planned everything I am going to do in the future in some way, then it is impossible for anything to happen differently than God knows and has planned, and so I can't make any different choices than the ones God knows and has planned for me to make.  So I would seem to have no free will at all.  So how can Catholic theology hold together free will, foreknowledge, and predestination?

At least part of the answer is that while, of course, coercion, force, certain psychological conditions, etc., can override or circumvent the will and so limit or remove its freedom, there are ways in which the will can be moved and directed which don't override or destroy freedom.  It can be helpful here to distinguish between "necessity" and "certainty."  As with many words adapted to abstract, philosophical use, people don't always use these words in the same way, so we don't want to be so rigid in our use of these words that we can't recognize differences of meaning in how we and others use them and so end up getting into meaningless, semantic fights.  Nevertheless, in some philosophical/theological circles, these words have been used in a way that can be helpful at capturing an important distinction.  We can think of the will being moved "necessarily" or "with certainty but not necessarily."  For the will to be moved necessarily is for the will really to be obliterated by having its options removed, so that the person willing can really only do one thing and it is impossible for him to do otherwise.  For example, say you want me to eat a cucumber.  It so happens that I hate cucumbers, so it is not going to be easy to get me to eat one.  You might attempt to get me to eat a cucumber by forcing me to eat one necessarily, removing my options and so circumventing my will.  You could tie me down and force the cucumber down my throat.  Or you could use a supercomputer to take over my brain and force my body to eat the cucumber.  Etc.

On the other hand, it is possible to move the will with certainty but without necessity, without removing legitimate options and thus circumventing and destroying the act of free choice.  Going back to the cucumber example, you might get me to certainly, yet freely, eat the cucumber by using persuasion, which involves appealing to my motives so that I freely alter my choice.  You might offer me $1,000 to eat the cucumber.  If you did that, I would certainly eat it (all other things being equal).  I would still hate the taste of the cucumber, but my distaste for cucumber would lose the battle with my desire to win $1,000.  If I really hated cucumbers and wouldn't do it even for $1,000, you could offer me $1,000,000, if you happened to have that kind of money on hand (and were that bizarrely obsessed with getting me to eat a cucumber for some reason).  In a case like this, you have performed an action that caused me to do something you wanted me to do, and made it certain I would do it, but without any overwhelming or circumventing of my will.

This can happen because acts of will, while free in some ways, are not arbitrary or groundless.  This is evident both from the law of causality as well as from a simple psychological examination of how the will actually works.  The law of causality does not allow that something can come from nothing.  If an effect occurs, it must have a cause sufficient to explain the effect.  The only alternative to this would be to have something coming from nothing.  But "nothing" is nothing and so does nothing.  It has no reality, and so cannot originate anything or exert any energy or activity to cause anything to happen.  It cannot be the explanation for why anything happens.  So if anything happens, if anything in reality undergoes change, some cause must have effected that change.  If there is anything in the universe that cannot explain itself, it must be explained by something outside of itself and not by "nothing."

And with regard to the psychology of willing, consider for yourself how you make choices.  When I examine the activity of my own will, I see this basic pattern:  1. I am aware of various states of affairs that could come about or be brought about.  I call these my "options."  2. My mind begins to examine its own desires.  What do I like?  What do I dislike?  What do I want to happen?  What do I not want to happen?  3. As this process continues, I recognize that, among the things I have some desire for, there are things I want more than other things.  In other words, I find that I have "preferences."  I prefer some states of affairs to other states of affairs.  Out of the complexity of my views, ideas, and desires, my mind attempts to sort out what I truly prefer to have come about or to bring about, all things considered, in that moment.  4. Finally, I am successful at determining my true preference in the current situation, and I settle on that preference.  This act of my mind settling on a preference is what I call the act of "choice."  5. Then, if what I have chosen is to perform some action, my body (or my mind) responds to the act of choice by performing the action (or at least attempts to do so).

Is this not how the action of choosing goes for all of us?  We can see, then, by looking at it, that the act of choice is not arbitrary or outside a nexus of causation.  My choice flows from my preference.  My preference is what I most desire or value in that moment.  (And I would add that, when I am thinking of "desire" here, I don't mean mere non-rational instinct, but what my rational mind values.)  And what I desire is a product of many, many things--my personality, my beliefs and values, all the circumstances that exist around me and inside of me at the time of my choice, the earlier circumstances that led to those circumstances, all my previous experiences, the entire previous history of my life, my DNA, the choices of my parents, the choices of their parents, the entire history of the universe, etc.  At the moment of my choice, I choose what I prefer, and the desires, values, beliefs, ideas, etc., that determine what I prefer do not spring out of nowhere.  They are what they are because of prior causes.  This is why you can cause with certainty, but without will-circumventing necessity, that I will choose to eat that cucumber.  This is why, if you happened to know everything about me and all the circumstances affecting my choice at any given moment, you could always predict with 100% accuracy what I would choose.  This is why, if you happened to have control of all the causal factors in the entire universe, you could ensure that I would always choose what you wanted me to choose.

Now consider God's relationship to the creation.  God is the First Cause, the Source of all reality.  There is no being in the universe that does not derive from him.  There are no chains of causes in the universe which do not ultimately trace back to his action.  And God is also omniscient, or all-knowing.  There is nothing in all of reality which he does not know thoroughly.  If that is the case, then it cannot be otherwise than that the history of creation will unfold according to God's perfect foreknowledge and plan.  When God created the universe, he knew exactly what he was creating, and he created exactly what he wanted.  And he knew everything that would result from that creation down through the entire chain of universal history from beginning to end.  He knew all the free choices that all creatures would make.  He knew all the free choices he himself would make as he would continue to interact with creation as its history continued to unfold, for he knew himself and his own preferential tendencies perfectly as well.  So God could not have created the universe without, at the same time, perfectly knowing and planning its entire history, down to the smallest detail.  As the Catechism of the Catholic Church puts it (#308), "[t]he truth that God is at work in all the actions of his creatures is inseparable from faith in God the Creator."

And none of this is in any way inconsistent with free will, for God's foreknowledge and predestination, understood in this way, do not at all overwhelm, obliterate, or circumvent anyone's free choices.  Just as you did not obliterate my free will when you offered me money to eat the cucumber, neither does God obliterate free will when he creates a universe and ordains a history in which he knows I will choose all the things I will choose in my life.  (See here--and particularly time index 17:00-20:53--for a helpful discussion of this same issue by Bishop Robert Barron.)

The Problem of Evil

All of this leads us to the second major problem a lot of people have with Catholic teaching in this area.  Even if I can see how God's foreknowledge and predestination are consistent with the freedom of my choices, yet if all of this is so, why does God's plan involve so much evil?  Why did he choose to create a world in which so much sin and suffering happen?  Why not create one where everyone makes only right choices and is always happy?  When we think of the will as outside of God's control, this can provide a kind of smokescreen, to an extent, against this second objection.  Why all the sin and suffering?  Well, God can't really do anything about it, because he can't control free will.  (Of course, this gets God off the hook from responsibility for evil only by removing his sovereignty as God, but people often don't press these sorts of things to their logical conclusions.)  But if God can control free will, if it is not outside the effects of his plan and foreknowledge, then how could God justifiably create a world in which all this sin and suffering happen?

I won't attempt to give a complete answer to this question here, because I have already dealt with it in a separate article to which I will refer you.  Sometimes this objection is expressed in terms of feeling like God is somehow still violating my freedom by exercising such absolute control over the history of my life.  I think this thought partly stems from a failure to fully recognize how different God's relationship with us is from our relationship with other creatures.  If you were to somehow gain absolute control over my life such that my entire life history became subject to your knowledge and plans, I would complain that you had violated my "free space," for no creature from outside of myself should have that kind of control over me, and you could only have gotten that kind of control by somehow conquering me from without and subjugating me illicitly.  But I make a mistake if I then transfer that feeling to my relationship with God.  God is my Creator.  His control over my life does not result from any kind of illicit conquest or manipulation or invasion of my "space."  His control arises from the fundamental fact of who he is and who I am.  The one who creates my fundamental essence and my entire world cannot but be the source of all that I am and cannot fail to exercise a kind of ownership and control over my life and my world that no mere creature could ever have.  It is his prerogative, and no one else's, to know fully and to determine the course of the universe's history and my history.  To complain about God's plan governing my life is like complaining against my mother for giving birth to me.  "If my next-door neighbor tried to give birth to me, I should be very upset!  So how I can tolerate you having given birth to me, Mom?"  Well, by the very nature of our relationship, my mother has a kind of role in bringing me into existence that my next-door neighbor can never have (unless, of course, my next-door neighbor happens to be my mother).  My mother's unique role is not a usurpation, but a natural and fully appropriate relationship.  And so is God's unique role in my life as my Creator and the one whose plan governs my life history.  

I talked above about how God's complete knowledge of and control over the factors that determine my choices make it so that I will choose precisely and only what God wants me to choose.  But does that mean that God wants me to choose to sin?  If a person should choose to commit a mortal sin, rejecting fundamentally a right relationship with God, and end up in hell as a result of this, was it God's will for this to happen?  The answer is: yes and no.  God hates sin and suffering.  He does not take delight in either of these things.  But he sees that the overall good of the universe, that which brings about the greatest overall goodness and happiness, is best achieved by allowing certain evils to occur.  So his design for the history of the universe was not set simply on stopping me from committing any sin or experiencing any suffering.  He saw that the best way to set up the universe was to ordain a set of circumstances such that it would come about that I would, at times, commit sin and experience suffering.  He did not produce sin in me (for sin is a negative thing, like darkness, rather than a positive being, like light), but he set up the world such that he knew the result would be that I would sin and that suffering would come to me--not because he delighted in the idea of my sin and suffering, but because he knew that allowing these things would bring about a greater good.  And this extends to all the sin and suffering in the universe, even to mortal sin and hell.  So God did not want me to sin, per se, but he wanted to create a universe in which I would be freely permitted by him to sin because he knew that this universe would be the one suited to accomplish his perfect purposes.

A Brief Note on Various Philosophical and Theological Schools of Thought

How does what I've said above relate to different philosophical schools of thought regarding the nature of free will?  There are two positions, broadly speaking, which are typically discussed--libertarianism and compatibilism.  I often find that there are ambiguities in terms of how these positions are defined that make it difficult to identify with either of the labels.  For example, sometimes the libertarian view of free will is defined as the idea that "it is possible to choose otherwise at the moment of a choice," and compatibilism is defined as the idea that "the will is free if, at the moment of choice, a choice is made according to one's own mind and will, voluntarily, even if it is impossible to choose otherwise because the will is determined by the strongest desires of the person."  But the phrase "able to choose otherwise" is ambiguous.  Are we talking about the ability of my mind to actually make choices between various options--that is, my ability to use my rational mind to settle on preferences?  Or does "able to choose otherwise" imply the idea that there is no certainty in choosing--that, at any given moment of choice, there is an absolute possibility that various choices might happen such that there can be no knowledge in principle about what choice will actually be made until the choice is actually made?  "Ability to choose otherwise" in the former sense is an idea that makes perfect sense and is an essential component of what it means to make an act of will.  "Ability to choose otherwise" in the latter sense is logically absurd (because it implies that totally uncaused events happen for no reason, thus denying the law of causality) and, far from being an essential component of the idea of a free act of the will, it is completely incompatible with how willing actually takes place.  It turns an act of will, which is really the act of a rational mind settling on a preference, and turns it into something fundamentally different--a totally random event which is independent of everything that comes before it (and therefore, absurdly, independent even of the person making the choice and any act of that person) but which produces actions and events in the world.

If we define "ability to choose otherwise" in the former, rational sense, then I could identify my position as libertarian.  But if we define "ability to choose otherwise" in the latter, absurd sense, then I would be inclined to say I am a compatibilist.  The libertarian view, taken in the absurd sense, is incompatible with Catholic faith, because it implies a fundamental incompatibility between the Catholic doctrine of free will and the Catholic doctrines of divine foreknowledge and predestination (not to mention that by obliterating the law of causality it destroys the very rational fabric of reality itself).

What about the various Catholic schools of thought pertaining to free will, grace, and predestination--in particular, Bañezian Thomism and Molinism?  I think that my account of free will above is consistent with any of the accepted Catholic schools of thought.  It doesn't take sides in the details of the disputes between these schools.  For more on my views regarding the Bañezian-Molinist dispute, and in particular how I understand Molinism, see here, here, and here.  All the historic, approved Catholic schools of thought agree on the fundamental theological points of Catholic doctrine regarding free will, grace, and predestination.  Here is how Catholic philosopher Alfred J. Freddoso describes the traditional Catholic teaching on free will and predestination and how both Bañezian Thomism and Molinism agree on this teaching:

According to the traditional doctrine of divine providence, God freely and knowingly plans, orders and provides for all the effects that constitute the created universe with its entire history, and he executes his chosen plan by playing an active causal role that ensures its exact realization. Since God is the perfect craftsman, not even trivial details escape his providential decrees. Whatever occurs is specifically decreed by God; more precisely, each effect produced in the created universe is either specifically and knowingly intended by him or, in concession to creaturely defectiveness, specifically and knowingly permitted by him. Divine providence thus has both a cognitive and a volitional aspect. By his pre-volitional knowledge God infallibly knows which effects would result, directly or indirectly, from any causal contribution he might choose to make to the created sphere. By his free will God chooses one from among the infinity of total sequences of created effects that are within his power to bring about and, concomitantly, wills to make a causal contribution that he knows with certainty will result in his chosen plan's being effected down to the last detail. 

This much is accepted by both Molina and the Bañezians. They further agree that it is because he is perfectly provident that God has comprehensive foreknowledge of what will occur in the created world. That is, God's speculative post-volitional knowledge of the created world -- his so-called free knowledge or knowledge of vision -- derives wholly from his pre-volitional knowledge and his knowledge of what he himself has willed to do. Unlike human knowers, God need not be acted upon by outside causes in order for his cognitive potentialities to be fully actualized; he does not have to, as it were, look outside himself in order to find out what his creative act has wrought. Rather, he knows 'in himself' what will happen precisely because he knows just what causal role he has freely chosen to play within the created order and because he knows just what will result given this causal contribution. In short, no contingent truth grasped by the knowledge of vision can be true prior to God's specifically intending or permitting it to be true or to his specifically willing to make the appropriate causal contribution toward its truth.

For more, see my problem of evil article, and my predestination article this article follows up on.  To see arguments relative to the deeper, most fundamental philosophical issues involved in all of this, see my case for the existence of God and the truth of Christianity in general here and here.

Published on the feast of St. Raymond of Peñafort.

Thursday, April 11, 2019

Was Arminius Really an Arminian (in the Bad Sense)?

About three years ago, I had a change of view regarding Molinism.  Before that time, I had had an inaccurate picture of what Molinism is which led me to believe it was incompatible with Scripture, reason, Augustinian views of predestination and grace, and the doctrines of the Catholic Church.  I describe my change of mind and the reason for it here.  I had encountered forms of Molinism or ways of describing Molinism which were indeed contrary to the Catholic faith, and I had assumed that these forms of or ways of describing Molinism provided an accurate picture of the views of Molina himself and his earlier disciples at the time when the views of the Molinists were being investigated by the Catholic Church (this was the famous De Auxiliis controversy, which you can read about here.)  Through further research, I discovered that the less palatable idea of Molinism I had in my head was not the view of Molina himself or the earlier Molinists (and presumably not the view of many present-day Molinists either).  The original Molinism turned out to be a viewpoint that was defensible from the perspective of historic Augustinian, Catholic teaching, not contrary to it.

After I had discovered this, it did not take long for the thought to enter my mind that perhaps something similar would turn out to be the case with regard to the theology of Arminianism, which was a movement condemned by the Calvinistic Reformed churches in the seventeenth century and which has, since that time, been typically seen by Calvinists as one of their greatest arch-enemies.  I determined that I needed to go back and read Jacob (or James) Arminius himself.  So finally, last summer, I got around to doing that.  The works of Arminius are available online here and here.  From my research thus far, it seems that my suspicions were correct.  The theology of Arminius himself appears to be much less terrible than the "Arminianism" Calvinists seem typically to have in mind and that I have had in my own mind.

Now, I am not saying that this more heretical form of Arminianism doesn't actually exist.  I know it does.  I've read a number of authors advocating it.  One of the most prominent as well as dramatic examples of this kind of theology in the modern day, at least in Evangelical circles, is the Open Theist movement, which I'll mention again just below.  But what my reading of Arminius seems to be telling me is that this more heretical Arminianism doesn't represent the views of Arminius himself.  So far as I can tell, his views on predestination, free will, and grace seem to be quite Augustinian.  It seems to me that he was unjustly condemned with regard to these points by the Reformed churches.  (It should be noted that I am not here discussing all of Arminius's views on every subject, but only his views on matters related to predestination, free will, and grace, the matters that are most often discussed in Calvinist-Arminian arguments.)

The more evil version of Arminianism holds that God cannot accomplish all his will for the universe.  He is limited by certain laws of reality that even he cannot violate, even though these laws lead to a situation where he cannot produce a universe that matches his ideal.  He wants to create truly free creatures, but to be "truly free", in this view, the creature must have a kind of free will in which a person's choice has no sufficient reason for its existence beyond itself.  So if Sarah chooses to accept the gospel and be saved, while Suzie chooses to reject the gospel and ends up damned, there is no ultimate explanation for either choice beyond itself.  Neither choice is planned by God.  God has to watch Sarah and Suzie to see what they will do, and then he can work around their choices to try to make things work out as well as he can manage.  God would prefer everyone to be saved, but if he gives creatures free will, he can't guarantee this, because he can't control what people will choose.  If Sarah chooses to go right, this choice has no explanation beyond itself.  If Suzie chooses to go wrong, likewise.  So, in this view, there is an ultimate element of chance in the universe.  There are events with literally no prior cause or explanation.

Obviously, this viewpoint violates the doctrine of the sovereignty of God, for it portrays God as having to deal with a universe beyond his fundamental control, a universe where he can't accomplish his ideal desires and where events occur without any prior causes or explanations.  Also, in this view, conversion to the good cannot be a product or a gift of grace, for the choice to go right can have no explanation beyond itself.  The difference between Sarah and Suzie, in terms of their choices, is something coming entirely from themselves and from chance and not from God.  So righteousness cannot, in this view, be a gift of grace.  This Arminian view is contrary to Catholic doctrine, and to all the approved schools of Catholic thought on the subject of predestination, grace, and free will--Dominicanism, Molinism, Augustinianism, etc.  Molinism, for example, holds that God has what they call middle knowledge, meaning knowledge of what people will choose to do in particular circumstances.  But this Arminian view precludes such knowledge, for, since each choice has no explanation beyond itself, it cannot be determined by any previous circumstances.  Sarah could be placed in a particular set of circumstances, and yet she might still choose right or wrong.  God cannot know from the particular circumstances what she will do, as this is ultimately a matter of chance.  The only way he can know what she will do is to watch what she actually does when she actually makes her choice.  The most logical of these Arminians (such as the Open Theists) deny that God has any foreknowledge of the future, for they rightly recognize that if God knows my future, my future choices must now be certain  But if they happen ultimately by chance, they cannot be certain until they've actually occurred.  Catholic theologians recognize that God knows all things through the knowledge of his own essence, for he knows all that he will do and all that he will permit.  But in this Arminian view, God only knows the future by looking outside of himself to see what will happen ultimately by chance.

So the Calvinists are quite right to consider this Arminian viewpoint a great evil.  Taken to its logical conclusion, it entails the destruction of Christianity and of theism, and even of reason itself.  But, from my reading of Arminius thus far, it seems that he did not hold this viewpoint.  His form of Arminianism seems rather to have been very much akin to the Molinist view within Catholicism, which maintains the sovereignty of God and salvation by grace.  This probably explains to a great degree why the Calvinists condemned him, for they have traditionally been unable to understand what Molinism is all about and have typically misunderstood it as indistinguishable from something like the evil Arminianism I just described.  The Dominicans in the Catholic Church have typically had the same problem understanding Molinism.  I myself had this erroneous view of Molinism until I looked at it more closely, as I describe here.  As I mentioned, this clarification regarding Molinism is what led me to want to look at Arminius more closely.

Arminius's Views

Arminius articulates his views several places in the corpus of his writings.  In The Works of Arminius, Volume I, Declaration of the Sentiments of Arminius on Predestination, on the Providence of God, on the Free Will of Man, and on the Grace of God, he gives a fairly systematic account of his views.  The Works of Arminius, Volume I, can be found here.  I have taken all of my text of Arminius below, throughout the rest of this article, from the plain text version of this document found on the website of the Christian Classics Ethereal Library.

I. The first absolute decree of God concerning the salvation of sinful man, is that by which he decreed to appoint his Son, Jesus Christ, for a Mediator, Redeemer, saviour, Priest and King, who might destroy sin by his own death, might by his obedience obtain the salvation which had been lost, and might communicate it by his own virtue. 
II. The second precise and absolute decree of God, is that in which he decreed to receive into favour those who repent and believe, and, in Christ, for his sake and through Him, to effect the salvation of such penitents and believers as persevered to the end; but to leave in sin, and under wrath, all impenitent persons and unbelievers, and to damn them as aliens from Christ. 
III. The third Divine decree is that by which God decreed to administer in a sufficient and efficacious manner the means which were necessary for repentance and faith; and to have such administration instituted (1.) according to the Divine Wisdom, by which God knows what is proper and becoming both to his mercy and his severity, and (2.) according to Divine Justice, by which He is prepared to adopt whatever his wisdom may prescribe and put it in execution. 
IV. To these succeeds the fourth decree, by which God decreed to save and damn certain particular persons. This decree has its foundation in the foreknowledge of God, by which he knew from all eternity those individuals who would, through his preventing grace, believe, and, through his subsequent grace would persevere, according to the before described administration of those means which are suitable and proper for conversion and faith; and, by which foreknowledge, he likewise knew those who would not believe and persevere.  (On Predestination, p. 170)

The context of Arminius's outline here is the discussions in Reformed circles regarding the order of the divine decrees.  Previous to this outline in this same work, Arminius had outlined the views of other Reformed theologians and explained what he found problematic about them.  What he is especially concerned about is that God's decrees be so described as to make logical sense and to be consistent with all of what God has revealed.  For example, he is very critical of the supralapsarian Reformed view.  That view says that God's decree to bring some to heaven and condemn some to hell preceded his decree to give efficacious grace to convert his elect, his decree to send Christ as Savior, his decree to permit the Fall of man, and even his decree to create human beings.  Arminius saw this as immensely problematic, because it pictures God condemning people to hell without any idea in his mind of the sinfulness of these people, their rejection of the gospel, or even their existence.  But, Arminius notes, God only condemns real, existing, fallen sinners who reject him to hell.  If God condemned people to hell without any regard to sin, he would act unjustly.  Likewise, if God ordained some people to heaven without any regard to whether or not they would choose what is right and accept the gospel, or even without any regard to the redemption of Christ, he would contradict his Word which links salvation to the redemption of Christ and to the conversion, faith, and repentance of people.  So Arminius lays out the order of the divine decrees in a way which he thinks makes sense and which is consistent with all the teaching of the Word of God.  First, God decrees the creation of people.  Then, he decrees to permit the Fall.  (Arminius doesn't mention these two in his outline above, but he mentions them elsewhere.)  Then, he decrees to send Christ as Savior.  Then, he decrees to save all believers.  Then, he decrees to give out sufficient and efficacious graces according to his divine wisdom.  Then, he decrees to save those particular persons who will choose to believe through the working of the sufficient and efficacious grace of God, and he decrees to damn those particular persons who will choose to reject the gospel, which choice will be permitted by God to occur.

Opponents of Arminius have misunderstood him as if he taught that a person's choice to believe is a chance event, not brought about by God's grace, which God has to look outside of himself to learn about, and then he chooses those who just happen to choose what is right.  But this is not at all what Arminius taught.  He attributes all things, good and evil, to the providence of God, and nothing to chance.  He attributes all evil choices to the free will of creatures, permitted by the providence of God.  He attributes all good choices to the sufficient and efficacious grace of God.  As with Catholic theology, Arminius holds that God makes available sufficient grace to all, which renders them culpable if they reject the gospel, but he moves some to salvation efficaciously.

I consider Divine Providence to be "that solicitous, continued, and universally present inspection and oversight of God, according to which he exercises a general care over the whole world, but evinces a particular concern for all his [intelligent] creatures without any exception, with the design of preserving and governing them in their own essence, qualities, actions, and passions, in a manner that is at once worthy of himself and suitable to them, to the praise of his name and the salvation of believers. In this definition of Divine Providence, I by no means deprive it of any particle of those properties which agree with it or belong to it; but I declare that it preserves, regulates, governs and directs all things and that nothing in the world happens fortuitously or by chance. Beside this, I place in subjection to Divine Providence both the free-will and even the actions of a rational creature, so that nothing can be done without the will of God, not even any of those things which are done in opposition to it; only we must observe a distinction between good actions and evil ones, by saying, that "God both wills and performs good acts," but that "He only freely permits those which are evil." Still farther than this, I very readily grant, that even all actions whatever, concerning evil, that can possibly be devised or invented, may be attributed to Divine Providence Employing solely one caution, "not to conclude from this concession that God is the cause of sin." This I have testified with sufficient clearness, in a certain disputation concerning the Righteousness and Efficacy of Divine Providence concerning things that are evil, which was discussed at Leyden on two different occasions, as a divinity-act, at which I presided. In that disputation, I endeavoured to ascribe to God whatever actions concerning sin I could possibly conclude from the scriptures to belong to him; and I proceeded to such a length in my attempt, that some persons thought proper on that account to charge me with having made God the author of sin. The same serious allegation has likewise been often produced against me, from the pulpit, in the city of Amsterdam, on account of those very theses; but with what show of justice such a charge was made, may be evident to any one, from the contents of my written answer to those Thirty-one Articles formerly mentioned, which have been falsely imputed to me, and of which this was one.  (On the Providence of God, p. 173) 
This is my opinion concerning the free-will of man: In his primitive condition as he came out of the hands of his creator, man was endowed with such a portion of knowledge, holiness and power, as enabled him to understand, esteem, consider, will, and to perform the true good, according to the commandment delivered to him. Yet none of these acts could he do, except through the assistance of Divine Grace. But in his lapsed and sinful state, man is not capable, of and by himself, either to think, to will, or to do that which is really good; but it is necessary for him to be regenerated and renewed in his intellect, affections or will, and in all his powers, by God in Christ through the Holy Spirit, that he may be qualified rightly to understand, esteem, consider, will, and perform whatever is truly good. When he is made a partaker of this regeneration or renovation, I consider that, since he is delivered from sin, he is capable of thinking, willing and doing that which is good, but yet not without the continued aids of Divine Grace.  (One the Free Will of Man, p. 174) 
In reference to Divine Grace, I believe, 1. It is a gratuitous affection by which God is kindly affected towards a miserable sinner, and according to which he, in the first place, gives his Son, "that whosoever believes in him might have eternal life," and, afterward, he justifies him in Christ Jesus and for his sake, and adopts him into the right of sons, unto salvation. 2. It is an infusion (both into the human understanding and into the will and affections,) of all those gifts of the Holy Spirit which appertain to the regeneration and renewing of man--such as faith, hope, charity, &c.; for, without these gracious gifts, man is not sufficient to think, will, or do any thing that is good. 3. It is that perpetual assistance and continued aid of the Holy Spirit, according to which He acts upon and excites to good the man who has been already renewed, by infusing into him salutary cogitations, and by inspiring him with good desires, that he may thus actually will whatever is good; and according to which God may then will and work together with man, that man may perform whatever he wills. 
In this manner, I ascribe to grace the commencement, the continuance and the consummation of all good, and to such an extent do I carry its influence, that a man, though already regenerate, can neither conceive, will, nor do any good at all, nor resist any evil temptation, without this preventing and exciting, this following and co-operating grace. From this statement it will clearly appear, that I by no means do injustice to grace, by attributing, as it is reported of me, too much to man's free-will. For the whole controversy reduces itself to the solution of this question, "is the grace of God a certain irresistible force?" That is, the controversy does not relate to those actions or operations which may be ascribed to grace, (for I acknowledge and inculcate as many of these actions or operations as any man ever did,) but it relates solely to the mode of operation, whether it be irresistible or not. With respect to which, I believe, according to the scriptures, that many persons resist the Holy Spirit and reject the grace that is offered.  (On the Grace of God, p. 175)

Calvinists may jump on Arminius with regard to that last point, his denial of the irresistibility of grace.  "Aha!  You see?  He denied that grace is irresistible!  That shows that he doesn't really attribute conversion to God's grace.  For if man can resist grace, then grace is not sufficient to bring a person to faith.  It requires, in addition, an independent cooperation of the free will of man, a cooperation which is not itself the product of grace."

But this completely misunderstands Arminius.  The confusion here is caused by the fact that Calvinists typically don't distinguish between irresistible and efficacious grace.  They tend to use "irresistible" to mean "efficacious," and so they think that if someone denies irresistible grace they must be denying efficacious grace.  But this is a point of terminology peculiar to the Calvinists, and one which every other theological school of thought tends to find baffling.  Other schools of thought tend to make a distinction between irresistible and efficacious grace.  By irresistible grace, they mean grace acting in such a way as to remove any option from the will to say yes or no.  It would be a force which overpowers human willing, so that no real choice can be made.  They therefore deny that grace is irresistible.  But many non-Calvinist schools of thought acknowledge efficacious grace, by which they mean grace applied in such a way as to infallibly move the will to consent.  Fr. John Hardon, a well-respected twentieth-century Catholic theologian, describes efficacious grace in this way:

By a truly efficacious grace is meant one that will be (is) infallibly followed by the act to which it tends, e.g. contrition. If you receive such a grace, even before your will consents to it, that grace is infallibly “sure of success;” it will infallibly procure your consent, produce that act – of contrition. But although it infallibly procures your consent, it does not necessitate you to consent: it leaves you free to dissent. Your will will infallibly say "yes" to it, but it is free to say “no.”  (Fr. John Hardon, Course on Grace, Part IIB, chapter 15 [Inter Mirifica, 1998], retrieved here from the website of the Real Presence Eucharistic Education and Adoration Association)

You see the distinction between efficacious and irresistible grace?  Arminius denies irresistible grace, but he affirms the efficaciousness of grace.

Here are some other quotations scattered throughout the corpus of his writings in which Arminius addresses this matter:

Concerning the expression, "By this grace they may believe, if they will." These words, when delivered in such a crude and undigested form, are capable of being brought to bear a very bad interpretation, and a meaning not at all agreeable to the scriptures, as though, after that power had been bestowed, the Holy Spirit and Divine Grace remain entirely quiescent, waiting to see whether the man will properly use the power which he has received, and will believe the gospel. When, on the contrary, he who wishes to entertain and to utter correct sentiments on this subject, will account it necessary to ascribe to Grace its own province, which, indeed, is the principal one, in persuading the human will that it may be inclined to yield assent to those truths which are preached.  (The Apology Or Defense Of James Arminius, Article VIII, p. 215) 
It is not only a rash saying, but a false and an ignorant one, "that a thing which, in regard to second causes, is done contingently is said to be done necessarily in regard to the divine decree." For the divine decree itself, being an internal action of God, is not immediately the cause of the thing; but, whatever effects it may produce, it performs them by power, according to the mode of which a thing will be said to be either necessarily or contingently. For if God resolve to use an irresistible power in the execution of his decree, or if he determine to employ such a quantum of power as nothing can resist or can hinder it from completing his purpose, it will follow that the thing will necessarily be brought into existence. Thus, "wicked men who persevere in their sins, will necessarily perish," for God will by an irresistible force, cast them down into the depths of hell. But if he resolve to use a force that is not irresistible, but that can be resisted by the creature, then that thing is said to be done, not necessarily but contingently, although its actual occurrence was certainly foreknown by God, according to the infinity of his understanding, by which he knows all results whatever, that will arise from certain causes which are laid down, and whether those causes produce a thing necessarily or contingently. From whence the school-men say that "all things are done by a necessity of infallibility," which phrase is used in a determinate sense, although the words in which its enunciation is expressed are ill-chosen. For infallibility is not an affection of a being, which exists from causes; but it is an affection of a Mind that sees or that foresees what will be the effect of certain causes. But I readily endure a catachrestic metalepsis, when it is evident concerning a thing, although it is my wish that our enunciations were always the best accommodated to the natures of the things themselves. 
But the inventors of these articles try to prove by the examples which they produce, that "one and the same thing, which, with respect to second causes, is done contingently, is, in respect to the Divine Decree, done necessarily." They say "It was possible for the bones of Christ to be broken, or not to be broken. It was possible for them to be broken, if any person considers the nature of bones; for they were undoubtedly fragile. But they could not be broken, if the decree of God be taken into the account." In answer to this, I deny that in respect of the DIVINE DECREE, they could not be broken. For God did not decree that it was impossible for them to be broken, but that they should not be broken. This is apparent from the manner in which the transaction was actually conducted. For God did not employ an irresistible power by which he might prevent the bones of Christ from being broken by those who approached to break them; but by a mild kind of suasion, he caused that they should not will to break the bones of Christ, by an argument drawn from its inutility. For, since Christ had already given up the ghost, before those who broke the legs had arrived at the cross, they were not at all inclined to undertake a vain and fruitless labour in breaking the legs of our saviour. Because the breaking of legs, with the design to hasten death, was only done lest the bodies should remain suspended on the cross on a festival or sacred day, contrary to the divine law. Indeed, if the divine Wisdom knows how to effect that which it has decreed, by employing causes according to their nature and motion--whether their nature and motion be contingent or free, the praise due to such Wisdom is far greater than if it employ a power which no creature can possibly resist. Although God can employ such a power whensoever it may seem expedient to his Wisdom. I am therefore, of opinion that I committed no offense when I said, "No contingent thing--that is, nothing which is done or has been done CONTINGENTLY--can be said to be or have been done NECESSARILY, with regard to the divine decree."  (The Apology Or Defense Of James Arminius, Article V, p. 207) 
Through his own Will, and by means of his Power, God is the cause of all other things; (Lam. iii. 37, 38;) yet so that when he acts through second causes, either with them or in them, he does not take away their own peculiar mode of acting with which they have been divinely endued but he suffers them according to their own mode to produce their own effects, necessary things necessarily, contingent things contingently, free things freely: and this contingency and freedom of second causes does not prevent that from being certainly done, or coming to pass, which God in this manner works by them; and therefore, the certain futurition of an event does not include its necessity. (Isa. x. 5, 6, 7; Gen. xlv. 5, 28; Acts xxvii. 29, 31.)  (Twenty-Five Public Disputations of James Arminius, Disputation 4, On the Nature of God, LIV, p. 332) 
The will of God is also distinguished into that by which he wills to do or to prevent something, and which is called "the will of his good pleasure," or rather "of his pleasure;" (Psalm cxv. 3;) and into that by which he wills something to be done, or to be omitted, by creatures endued with understanding, and which is called "the will which is signified." The latter is revealed; the former is partly revealed, and partly hidden. (Mark iii. 35; 1 Thess. iv. 3; Deut. xxix, 29; 1 Cor. ii. 11, 12.) The former is efficacious, for it uses power, either so much as cannot be resisted, or such a kind as He certainly knows nothing will withstand: (Psalm xxxiii. 9; Rom. ix. 19.) The latter is called "inefficacious," and resistance is frequently made to it; yet so that, when the creature transgresses the order of this revealed Will, the creature by it may be reduced to order, and that the Will of God may be done on those by whom his Will has not been performed. (2 Sam. xvii. 14; Isa. v. 4, 5; Matt. xxi. 39-41; Acts v. 4; 1 Cor. vii. 28.) To this two-fold Will is opposed the Remission of the Will, which is called "Permission," and which is also two-fold. The one, which permits something to the power of a rational creature, by not circumscribing its act with a law; and this is opposed to "the revealed Will." The other is that by which God permits something to the capability and will of the creature, by not interposing an efficacious hindrance; and this is opposed to "the Will of God's pleasure" that is efficacious. (Acts xiv. 16; Psalm lxxxi. 13.)  (Ibid., LVIII, p. 333)

We can understand from these quotations Arminius's actual understanding of how grace works, and how free will relates to God's providence and predestination.  God's providence, and his grace, operate on things according to their natures.  With regard to free will, it is not according to its nature that it be moved by necessity or an irresistible force, for these things would overpower and extinguish it.  Free will must be moved by a persuasive force--that is, one that operates on it by persuading it to see things a certain way, have certain affections, and freely choose certain things.  And God can indeed efficaciously (Arminius even uses the word "efficacious") move the will.  In his providence, he moves the wills of his creatures by putting them in circumstances in which he knows they will be persuaded to act in certain ways.  Arminius uses the example of Christ's bones not being broken.  Being bones, they could have been broken.  The Roman soldiers could have broken them if they had wanted to.  But God ensured they would not want to by ordaining circumstances such that they would be effectually motivated not to.  So it was certain they would not break Christ's bones, and yet no irresistible force, negating their own wills, was applied to them.  In efficacious grace, God efficaciously moves the will to be persuaded to assent to Christ.  He enlightens the hearts of his elect, moves their affections, and persuades their wills to embrace Christ.  No creaturely power could do this.  Only a divine power could overcome the darkness of sin and the slavery of our wills to it.  Grace is God's divine power which efficaciously, certainly, and infallibly, but not irresistibly, moves the wills of his elect to faith.  Thus, faith is entirely a gift of God's grace.  With regard to those who are damned, God permits them to reject God's grace.  He refrains from moving their wills efficaciously to faith.

Arminius's theological terminology is very Catholic and Molinistic.  It contrasts significantly with the terminology that came to dominate the Reformed tradition.*  For example, Arminius affirms strongly the terminology of sufficient grace, which even the Jansenists within the Catholic Church had trouble with.

"Can God, now, in his own right, demand from fallen man faith in Christ, which he cannot have of himself, though God neither bestows on him, nor is ready to bestow, sufficient grace by which he may believe?" This question will be answered by a direct negative. God cannot by any right demand from fallen man faith in Christ, which he cannot have of himself, except God has either bestowed, or is ready to bestow, sufficient grace by which he may believe if he will. Nor do I perceive what is false in that reply, or to what heresy it has affinity. It has no alliance with the Pelagian heresy: for Pelagius maintained, that with the exception of the preaching of the Gospel, no internal grace is required to produce faith in the minds of men. But what is of more consequence, this reply is not opposed to St. Augustine's doctrine of Predestination; "yet this doctrine of his, we do not account it necessary to establish," as Innocent, the Roman Pontiff, has observed.  (Nine Questions, Question 5, p. 281)

Sufficient grace makes it possible for all to choose Christ, if they should want to.  Efficacious grace, by contrast, actually moves the will to choose Christ.  Sufficient grace gives ability; efficacious grace gives willingness.

Arminius even uses explicitly the terminology of middle knowledge, which is associated with Molinism and is typically objected to even by other legitimate Catholic schools of thought, such as the Dominicans.

The schoolmen say besides, that one kind of God's knowledge is natural and necessary, another free, and a third kind middle. (1.) Natural or necessary knowledge is that by which God understands himself and all things possible. (2.) Free knowledge is that by which he knows, all other beings. (3.) Middle knowledge is that by which he knows that "if This thing happens, That will take place." The first precedes every free act of the Divine will; the second follows the free act of God's will; and the last precedes indeed the free act of the Divine will, but hypothetically from this act it sees that some particular thing will occur. But, in strictness of speech, every kind of God's knowledge is necessary. For the free understanding of God does not arise from this circumstance, that a free act of His will exhibits or offers an object to the understanding; but when any object whatsoever is laid down, the Divine understanding knows it necessarily on account of the infinity of its own essence. In like manner, any object whatsoever being laid down hypothetically, God understands necessarily what will arise from that object.  (Twenty-Five Public Disputations of James Arminius, Disputation 4, On the Nature of God, LIV, p. 329)

I would go so far as to say that I have not yet, in my reading, discerned any significant difference between either the substance or the terminology of Arminius's and Molina's theology.  I'm sure there are plenty of differences in various places.  Arminius was a Protestant, after all!  But, in the areas under discussion in this article, I have not yet seen any clear difference.  If I didn't know who Arminius was, and all I had was the text from him that I have read thus far, I would assume he was a Molinist Catholic theologian.

And this, of course, explains why the Calvinists didn't like him.  And why they saw his theology as a dangerous "road to Rome."  In a sense, they were right.  He did provide a bridge between Reformed thought and Catholic thought.  But he was too radical and too Molinist for Calvinist sensibilities.  The Amyraldian school of thought (another school of thought arising from within the Reformed tradition, which I won't get into here) did a better job at doing some of the same things but being less dramatically offensive to Calvinist ears.  But I have come to understand Molina better.  I have been able to grasp the orthodoxy of his point of view.  And so I have also come to appreciate the orthodoxy and the Augustinian nature of Arminius's views, so far as I have been able to understand and interpret them thus far.

For more on Molinism and its consistency with orthodox Augustinianism, see here, here, and here.  For more on the Catholic doctrines of predestination, free will, and grace in general, see here.  For more on the relationship between the Catholic and the Calvinist doctrines on these subjects, see here.

Published on the feast of St. Stanislaus

* Although the terminologies are not completely diverse.  Calvinist theologians inherited many of the concepts and terms of medieval scholastic Catholic theology.  See, for example, the Calvinist Westminster Confession of Faith (found here, provided by Wikisource under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License) 3:1 and 5:2, and compare with what Arminius says in the quotations above:
God, from all eternity, did, by the most wise and holy counsel of His own will, freely, and unchangeably ordain whatsoever comes to pass: yet so, as thereby neither is God the author of sin, nor is violence offered to the will of the creatures; nor is the liberty or contingency of second causes taken away, but rather established.  (3:1)
Although, in relation to the fore-knowledge and decree of God, the first Cause, all things come to pass immutably, and infallibly; yet, by the same providence, He ordereth them to fall out, according to the nature of second causes, either necessarily, freely, or contingently.  (5:2)

Friday, August 17, 2018

Clearing Up Another Concern about Molinism

I postponed making a decision in the matter of de auxiliis [the great controversy between the Molinists and the Dominicans] for three reasons: the first, in order to be conscientious, and also considering that time teaches and shows the truth about everything, acting like a great judge and censor of all things. The second, because both parties are in substantial agreement with Catholic truth, namely that God through his efficacious grace makes us act and turns us from unwilling to willing subjects, bending and changing human will. There is disagreement about that, but only concerning the manner in which God does this: the Dominicans say that he predetermines our wills in a physical manner, namely, really and efficaciously, while the Jesuits claim that he does so congruously and morally. Both opinions can be defended. The third reason is that in our day and age, in which there are many heresies, it is most appropriate to preserve and uphold the reputation and credibility of both religious orders, since to discredit either one may turn out to be greatly harmful. If we were to ask what we are to believe in this matter, I would say that we must uphold and follow the teachings of the Council of Trent, Session VI, On Justification, which are very clear and straightforward about what was the error and heresy of Pelagians and Semipelagians, as well as Calvin's.  This session also teaches the Catholic doctrine according to which it is necessary for human free will to be moved, excited and helped by God's grace, and that the will can freely assent or dissent.  The Council did not entertain the question of how grace works, but merely touched upon it and left the explanation alone, regarding it useless and unnecessary, thus imitating Pope Celestine, who, having, defined some issues or propositions on this matter, said he did not want to condemn or elaborate on more difficult or subtler ones.  (Footnote 114:  "Denzinger, 1997 a.")

- Pope Paul V, explaining to the Spanish ambassador why he did not make a formal decision regarding the De Auxiliis controversy (from Guido Stucco, The Catholic Doctrine of Predestination: From Luther to Jansenius, p. 198)

Following up from my previous two articles (here and here) on the rehabilitation and defense of Molinism from an Augustinian point of view, I wanted to address another concern that I have had in the past and that often arises about the orthodoxy of Molinism.  Again, I have not read Molina directly, except for a few excerpts here and there.  (Most of his Concordia has not been translated into English yet.)  I am dependent for my knowledge of Molina's views and the views of his followers on several sources, especially the work of Dr. Alfred J. Freddoso, Fr. John Hardon, and Dr. Guido Stucco.  Dr. Stucco in particular has been immensely helpful as his book, The Catholic Doctrine of Predestination: From Luther to Jansenius, contains a blow-by-blow account of Molina's Concordia and a blow-by-blow account of the De Auxiliis controversy (the incredibly detailed and long-lasting debate between the Jesuits and the Dominicans over Molinism and related issues), as well as a wonderful collection of primary text translations that provide a very helpful window into the thinking of the people involved in the debates of that time.  I also, just the other day, came across a fascinating article by Dr. Kirk R. MacGregor arguing that one can be a Calvinist Molinist.  It was actually reading that article that was the immediate trigger for the writing of this post.

Anyway, I wanted to address another objection that has been made against the Molinist position.  Molina was very concerned about the idea, present in the Dominican ideas about predestination as well as elsewhere, that God decides by his free choice what a particular person will choose in a given situation and then makes that choice happen by his direct action.  So, if Bob chooses X, Molina was very concerned about anyone saying that the reason Bob chose X is because God, by a free choice of God's will, decided to cause Bob to choose X.  Instead, Molina wanted to say that Bob's choosing of X was a given characteristic of the world that God did not directly freely bring about but which he found in the world as a natural part of it.  For obvious reasons, this idea of Molina's struck his critics as a threat to God's sovereignty and his status as the one First Cause, as well as a threat to the graciousness of salvation.  It seemed as if Molina was making Bob's choice a First Cause in its own right, which would mean that there is something in creation that doesn't come from God, and it would also mean that Bob's good choices (especially his choice to follow Christ) are not gifts from God but are owing ultimately solely to Bob himself, providing Bob a ground for boasting.

I dealt with this to some degree in my previous post, where I pointed out that Molina is not opposed to the idea that God's grace is the source of our good will; he was simply concerned that we not talk about God's being the source of our good will in such a way as to give the impression that God directly causes our actions in the way of a kind of physical cause that would circumvent or even go against the free will of the person.  We don't want to say that God overrode Bob's will or circumvented it, taking him over and directly causing his acts or forcing him to do them.  Instead, we want to recognize that God's moving of Bob's will towards good is a kind of movement consistent with the nature of the will - a movement of effective persuasion, whereby Bob will certainly choose to follow the prompting of grace but where he is left free to choose otherwise if he wanted to.

But let's go a little deeper.  Molina talks about three aspects of God's knowledge.  Now, of course, Molina knew and accepted (I presume) that God is a simple being, outside of time, etc.  So when we make distinctions in God's knowledge, or in the order in which God does things, or in any other aspect of God's nature, we are not saying that God is in time, or that God has actual divisions in his nature.  It is simply helpful for us, with our human spatio-temporal limitations and the limitations of our language, to make distinctions in order to help us to get a better idea of the logic of God's nature.

The first aspect of God's knowledge is his natural knowledge.  This refers to God's knowledge of necessary truths - truths that couldn't have been otherwise.  For example, 2+2=4.  It is not as if 2+2 could have equaled five, but God simply decided to have it equal 4.  No, 2+2 has to equal 4 by definition, necessarily.  So this is a truth that is not a result of God choosing among multiple possible options which to actualize.  It is a necessary truth of God's own logical nature.

Free knowledge, on the other hand, refers to God's knowledge of contingent truths - that is, truths that might have been otherwise.  In this case, we can imagine God choosing among multiple options which to actualize.  Perhaps the greenness of the grass might be an example here.  For all we know, the grass might have been red instead of green.  We cannot perceive a logical necessity in the grass being green.  Well then, why is the grass green rather than red?  Because God chose freely (non-necessarily) to actualize that option rather than the other.

(It is important to note that both the objects of God's natural knowledge and of his free knowledge are derived from God.  There is no idea of anything here coming from any ultimate source outside of God.  The question is only whether these objects are contingent or necessary realities.  Necessary realities are just as grounded in God as contingent realities are, but in a different way.  Necessary truths flow from how God necessarily sees things when they could not be seen otherwise.  Contingent truths flow from God's choice to actualize certain states of affairs among other possibilities.  Of course, even here, we must recognize the limitations of human language and human categorization.  These are helpful and valid distinctions, but we are describing things from our limited, divisible human point of view and not from God's single, undivided point of view.)

Molina famously added a third category to the two above: middle knowledge.  God's middle knowledge is his knowledge of hypotheticals.  We can imagine him asking, "If I were to actualize some particular contingent state of affairs, what would happen then?"  So middle knowledge is logically derived from natural knowledge.  It is God's awareness of the logical consequences of the various possibilities.

So let's apply all of this to Bob's choice to follow Christ to the end and be saved.  God knew all the possible worlds with all their possible histories he might create.  (This is God's natural knowledge.)  In one of those worlds (at least), God knew that if it was actualized, one of the things that would happen is that Bob would choose to follow Christ and be saved.  (This is God's middle knowledge.)  God then chose to actualize that particular possible world.  Then, having made that choice, God knew that Bob would in fact choose to follow Christ and be saved.  (This is God's free knowledge.)

Now we can understand Molina's concern about the Dominican viewpoint.  The Dominicans were saying that God directly and freely caused Bob's choice to follow Christ.  Molina objected to this, because it sounded to him like this would mean that Bob's choice to follow Christ was disconnected from Bob himself, as if even within the possible world that God chose to actualize, Bob might or might not have chosen to follow Christ, and God had to step in and directly intervene to create Bob's specific choice ex nihilo.  Molina wanted to say instead that Bob's choice to follow Christ was a given that God "discovered" by means of his middle knowledge.  In other words, according to Molina, God did not arbitrarily cause Bob to choose to follow Christ.  Rather, that choice flowed from Bob himself, as a logical consequence of the world God chose to actualize - a world in which a person named Bob would come to be, would be given the ability to choose, would have a particular life history, a particular personality, particular desires and motives, and a particular set of circumstances at any given moment of his life history.  Given all of that, God deduced - not decided arbitrarily - that Bob would choose to follow Christ.  In yet other words, it is not, said Molina, that God simply randomly decided to make Bob follow Christ.  It is that God knew that if he actualized the particular possible world he in fact did end up choosing to actualize, one of the things that would happen in it would be that Bob would choose to follow Christ.  Bob's choice was not some arbitrary add-on, but flowed logically and naturally from the characteristics of Bob himself combined with the circumstances in which Bob found himself.

Molina's critics found this way of thinking very suspicious, because it made it sound like the fact of Bob's choice was something God had to discover rather than being an effect of his will, and this sounded for all the world like saying that God is not the ultimate First Cause of all things, because he is not the ultimate cause of Bob's choice, and also that, as Bob's choice to follow Christ was not a result of God's free choice to cause him to do so, Bob's good choice could not be considered a gift from God, contrary to established Catholic doctrine.

I don't think that these criticisms of Molina's perspective are ultimately successful.  Here are two reasons why:

1. First, Molina never said that Bob's choice to follow Christ was something that came out of nowhere, ex nihilo, as if it were itself a First Cause rivaling God's unique First Causal status.  If he had said this, or if his system implied it, the critics would, of course, have been right in condemning Molina's view as fundamentally contrary to Catholic doctrine.  In fact, the very idea of middle knowledge implies the exact opposite.  If Bob's choice to follow Christ was an ex nihilo, First Causal act, God could not deduce it from his natural knowledge.  That is, he could not look at one particularly hypothetical world, not yet existing, and say, "If I were to actualize this world, then I know it would happen that Bob would choose to follow Christ."  God could only make this deduction if Bob's choice was logically related to and derived from the various givens in the possible world God had in mind.  Bob's choice does not come out of nowhere; rather, it is a natural (and, indeed, infallible) consequence of Bob's personality, his desires and motives, his past history, his memories, and all the details of his particular circumstances at the time of his choice.  The Bob that God has in mind has a particular personality.  He has particular desires and motives and a particular life history.  If put in certain circumstances, with particular influences, this particular Bob is the sort of person who would in fact choose to do some things and not other things.  Bob's choice are not disconnected from but flow logically from all the truths about Bob combined with all the truths about the circumstances he is in.  (Think of an author inventing a character.  Given the invention of a particular character, with a particular personality, particular motives, a particular history, etc., certain actions would be, as we say, "in character" for that character to do, and other actions would be "out of character."  Once the author has the idea of this particular character in mind, he can deduce from that what the character would do in various circumstances.)

Of course, one of the most important factors in the life of Bob would be the grace of God.  God knows that without grace, Bob could never and would never choose Christ.  Grace is necessary to bring Bob's will to the point that it will accept Christ.  And God knows, in his middle knowledge, that if he gives particular graces to Bob in particular ways at particular times and in particular circumstances, grace will successfully persuade Bob to choose Christ.  Bob will not be necessitated to choose Christ.  He will always have the option of rejecting Christ, and he could really do this if he wanted to.  Bob has to freely choose to follow Christ among other possible options.  But God knows that if he gives grace to Bob in a certain way, etc., it will infallibly have the effect of persuading Bob to choose freely to follow Christ.

So there are no First Causes other than God here.  All the truths involved in all of this flow ultimately from God - all the truths of natural knowledge which are rooted in God's being, all the truths of middle knowledge which flow logically from natural knowledge, and, of course, all the truths of free knowledge that flow from the possibilities God finally decides to actualize.

2. Secondly, remember that in Molina's view, although the truths of God's middle knowledge flow logically from the truths of God's natural knowledge, yet it is God's free choice that determines which possibilities are actualized.  So it may be that Bob's choice to follow Christ flows logically from the realities in existence in Possible World A.  But it is also true that Possible World A and all the other possible worlds are contingent.  It is up to God's free choice among all the existing options which possible world he will choose to actualize.  So if God chooses to actualize Possible World A, all the events in that world, including the event of Bob's choosing to follow Christ, are freely chosen by God and only actually happen because of his free choice to actualize them.  So it is not only that God knows that Bob, given a certain personality and history, put in particular circumstances, and given grace in particular ways, will choose to follow Christ; it is also that God has freely chosen to actualize the possible world in which all these things actually come to be and to happen.  So it is due to God's free choice that Bob exists, that he has the personality that he has, that he is put in the particular circumstances that he is put in, that he is given the particular graces he is given, etc.  Thus, although Bob's choice to follow Christ follows logically upon all these conditions, yet God, being the free actualizer of the conditions, is the one who has freely chosen to bring it about that Bob will choose to follow Christ.  This is why Molina insists that predestination is ultimately unconditional.  There is nothing in Bob that is the cause of God's choice to actualize the world in which Bob will choose to follow Christ and be saved.  How could there be, since Bob does not exist until God decides to actualize the particular world in which he will come into existence?  God freely actualizes the world he wants to actualize, and in doing so he freely preordains all the events that will happen in that world, including Bob's choice to follow Christ to the end and his consequent eternal salvation.

So I see no problem with Molina's view from an Augustinian point of view or from the point of view of Catholic doctrine.  God is sovereign.  He is the First Cause of all reality.  All other realities come from him.  He has freely preordained all that comes to pass, including who will and who will not be saved.  His predestination of individuals to receive the particular graces that will lead them effectively to come to Christ and follow him to the end and thus end up in eternal salvation is not caused by anything in the individual, for all that individuals have is the result of God's free preordination of all things. The good will of the saved, whereby they choose to follow Christ, is a gift of God's ultimate free predestination, and is also a product of God's grace as that grace is given freely and infallibly persuades the will to choose aright.  I do not say that one must see things just as Molina saw them, or that I prefer Molina's view to other views (like the Dominican view), or that I agree with Molina's criticism of other views.  Up until now, I have not yet seen a good reason to side definitively with one side or another, so long as all hold to the fundamental teachings of Catholic doctrine.

For more on the doctrines of predestination and grace in Catholic theology, see here.

Thursday, June 9, 2016

What Was Wrong with Jansenism?

Jansenism was a theological system, or set of beliefs, condemned by the Catholic Church in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  As a school, it has pretty much died out, though there are individuals here and there who identify with it.  You can read the full, complicated story of its history here.

My interest in it mainly stems from the fact that it was an attempt to promote St. Augustine's teachings on grace in opposition to the Jesuit Molinists.  When I was a Calvinist, I was fascinated by the movement because I saw it as a sort of version of Calvinism held by Roman Catholics in the seventeenth century.  I am interested in it now because, having become Catholic, and being very interested in understanding and promoting Catholic, Augustinian understandings of grace, predestination, etc., I am interested in why the movement was condemned.  What was wrong with it?  A lot of Calvinists take the condemnation of Jansenism as a condemnation of Augustine's views and an embracing of Semipelagianism.  But this is not the case, for the Catholic Church has embraced the fundamentals of Augustine's views on these matters.  Even the Molinists, who were the Jansenists' archenemies, identified themselves with Augustine's viewpoint; and the other enemies of Molinism, the Dominicans, had many of the same objections to Molinism that the Jansenists had, and they too saw themselves as defending the doctrines of St. Augustine (and St. Thomas Aquinas), but the Church never condemned their position as heretical.  Towards the end of my life as a Protestant, I had come to the conclusion that the Catholic Church had contradicted itself by condemning Jansenism while refusing to condemn the Dominican position because it seemed to me that their doctrines regarding grace and predestination were fundamentally the same--both expressing the teachings of St. Augustine.

When I became a Catholic, I still didn't understand why Jansenism was condemned when it was clear that the Church did not condemn Augustine's views.  But I decided that if I had reason to trust the Catholic Church, I could trust them on this point.  While I may not be able to figure out why Jansenism was condemned, I have reason to assume there was a good reason.  Part of the difficulty in researching Jansenism is that Jansen's book, the Augustinus, has never been translated into English.  I really wish someone would do that.

Of course, I would never feel fully satisfied to leave the matter at that point if there was further progress that might be made in understanding what was going on there, so I've continued to think about the issues since becoming Catholic.  This is my attempt to articulate what the Catholic Church found wrong with Jansenism, and how the condemned Jansenist views differ from the views of St. Augustine and his approved disciples in the Church.  I'll also throw in some thoughts regarding Calvinism as we go.

If you have no background in the Catholic doctrines and terminology regarding predestination and grace, you might consider taking a look at this article first.

I want to focus on the five propositions out of Jansen's book that were condemned by Pope Innocent X in his papal bull Cum Occasione.  Here are the five condemned propositions as found in the Catholic Encyclopedia article on Jansenism (found on the New Advent website--bullets removed and spaces added):

Some of God's commandments are impossible to just men who wish and strive (to keep them) considering the powers they actually have, the grace by which these precepts may become possible is also wanting; 
In the state of fallen nature no one ever resists interior grace; 
To merit, or demerit, in the state of fallen nature we must be free from all external constraint, but not from interior necessity, 
The Semipelagians admitted the necessity of interior preventing grace for all acts, even for the beginning of faith; but they fell into heresy in pretending that this grace is such that man may either follow or resist it; 
To say that Christ died or shed His blood for all men, is Semipelagianism.

Let's take a closer look at each of these propositions.

THE FIRST PROPOSITION

"Some of God's commandments are impossible to just men who wish and strive (to keep them) considering the powers they actually have, the grace by which these precepts may become possible is also wanting."

The first proposition, from a Catholic point of view, is definitely wrong.  God cannot command that which is impossible, for if he did so, the non-performance of such an action would not, per se, be a sin.  For example, if God commanded me to flap my arms and fly to the moon, even if I loved God perfectly with my whole heart and fully understood the command, the action would still not be performed, but my non-performance of the action would not be sin because it would not flow from any evil will of mine.  When God issues a command, the implication is that obedience lies in doing the commanded action and sin lies in not doing it.  But in this case, obedience and sin have nothing to do with it, for the action is out of reach of my will, and so it is impossible to consider this action as commanded by God.

Now, we have to be careful with terminology here.  As Calvinist philosopher Jonathan Edwards points out, it is possible to use words like "impossible" to refer to something that strictly speaking isn't really an impossibility.  Edwards distinguished between "moral" and "natural" inability.  A "natural" inability is a real inability in the strict sense--when something is beyond your power such that even if you wanted to do it you couldn't.  A "moral" inability is when you simply don't want to do something and so will not choose to do it, though you could do it if you chose to.  It is impossible that a person who wants to do A more than B, all things considered, will choose to do B--not because something external to his will is preventing him but simply because of the psychological fact that we always do what we want to do all things considered (and "all things" includes all motivating factors, whether rational, emotional, etc.).  We are able to choose B, but, in such a case, we certainly won't choose it.

But even Edwards pointed out that it is, strictly speaking, incorrect according to the ordinary use of language to use terms like "impossibility" and "inability" when what we are really talking about is unwillingness:

But it must be observed concerning moral Inability, in each kind of it, that the word Inability is used in a sense very diverse from its original import. The word signifies only a natural Inability, in the proper use of it; and is applied to such cases only wherein a present will or inclination to the thing, with respect to which a person is said to be unable, is supposable. It cannot be truly said, according to the ordinary use of language, that a malicious man, let him be never so malicious, cannot hold his hand from striking, or that he is not able to show his neighbor kindness; or that a drunkard, let his appetite be never so strong, cannot keep the cup from his mouth. In the strictest propriety of speech, a man has a thing in his power, if he has it in his choice, or at his election: and a man cannot be truly said to be unable to do a thing, when he can do it if he will. It is improperly said, that a person cannot perform those external actions, which are dependent on the act of the Will, and which would be easily performed, if the act of the Will were present. And if it be improperly said, that he cannot perform those external voluntary actions, which depend on the Will, it is in some respect more improperly said, that he is unable to exert the acts of the Will themselves; because it is more evidently false, with respect to these, that he cannot if he will: for to say so, is a downright contradiction; it is to say, he cannot will, if he does will. And in this case, not only is it true, that it is easy for a man to do the thing if he will, but the very willing is the doing; when once he has willed, the thing is performed; and nothing else remains to be done. Therefore, in these things, to ascribe a non-performance to the want of power or ability, is not just; because the thing wanting, is not a being able, but a being willing. There are faculties of mind, and a capacity of nature, and every thing else, sufficient, but a disposition: nothing is wanting but a will. (Jonathan Edwards, Freedom of the WillPart I, Section IV)

So if all Jansen meant to say is that sometimes people don't want to obey some of God's commandments, well, that is obviously true, and the Church would have no problem with that.  But if he meant that there are commandments that a person truly cannot obey even if he might want to, then this contradicts core Catholic teaching.  So what did Jansen really mean?  Well, the Church obviously took him to mean the latter.  I can't go back and check, because I can't read his book.  I have, however, read (portions of) another Jansenist writing--the Provincial Letters of Blaise Pascal and some of his other writing on the subject of grace.  Pascal wrote this book to defend the Jansenists and to attack the Jesuits.  You can see his views on Jansenism and his defense of it especially in Letter XVIII, and also in Letters I and II.   (Pascal is a delight to read, by the way, whether one agrees with him in everything or not.)  From what I have seen so far, mostly from Pascal, it looks to me like Jansen held the former, orthodox view.  But I am not an expert on Jansen.  Perhaps his views are different than they have so far appeared to me to be.  That is entirely possible.  Another possibility is that Jansen's actual views were orthodox, but he expressed them in such a way in his book that they naturally inclined towards error.  In that case, the condemnation of his propositions was intended to impose certain language requirements on how we must talk about these issues.  We cannot speak in such a way as to convey the idea that there is any true impossibility in obeying any of God's commands (even if we really mean simply that we can obey them but don't want to, and won't ever want to unless grace moves us to do so).  In order to comply with the Church, then, all the Jansenists would have had to do is to acknowledge that, in the Church's judgment (which is trustworthy), Jansen said some things that conveyed (whether intentionally or not) certain erroneous views, and that therefore some of his propositions ought to be rejected in order to better further the truth in these matters.  They could have acquiesced in the Church's judgment and agreed to abide by the Church's terminological guidelines, perhaps even without (if Pascal is correct) having had to alter any of their substantial views as to their core meanings.

On the other hand, it must be said that the first proposition as it stands seems to lean towards the problematic interpretation, since it talks about an impossibility to obey God's commandments even if one wishes and strives to keep them.  This suggests we aren't talking about a lack of willingness to keep God's commandments, but a true inability, and this, as I said above, is clearly contradictory to Catholic teaching.  It is possible, of course, that Jansen made claims in his book the full meaning and full logical implications of which he himself had not fully thought through.

The first condemned proposition also said that "the grace by which these precepts may become possible is also wanting."  The Church condemned this saying because it is Catholic doctrine that all men throughout the world have been given sufficient grace by God in order to do all that God commands.  This is really just another way of saying the same thing we've been talking about, but the language of "sufficient grace" is particularly important.  Catholics are required to affirm that sufficient grace has been given to all (so that obedience to the commandments of God is possible for all).  Jansen's proposition does not affirm this, and so it is condemned.  Letter II of Pascal's Provincial Letters focuses particularly on the Jansenist resistance to admit the concept of "sufficient grace"--a resistance he defends.  This doctrine simply made no sense to the Jansenists.  If grace is sufficient, then nothing more would be needed, and yet of two persons to whom sufficient grace is given, one obeys God and the other does not.  Why the difference?  If the difference results from something ultimately produced from the good person himself, then the good will is not itself a gift of God's grace, contrary to Catholic teaching.  On the other hand, if God moves the will of the one to obey him, but does not so move the other person's will, then God treats the two differently, giving a grace (efficacious) to one that he does not give to the other, and without which that other person will never obey God.  But if without that additional efficacious grace, the second person will never obey God, then he has not been given sufficient grace and so cannot obey God, for no one can do good without efficacious grace.  (Or so the Jansenists reasoned.)  Here is how Pascal contrasts the views of the Jesuits and the Jansenists on this point (in Letter II):

In one word, then, I found that their difference about sufficient grace may be defined thus: The Jesuits maintain that there is a grace given generally to all men, subject in such a way to free-will that the will renders it efficacious or inefficacious at its pleasure, without any additional aid from God and without wanting anything on his part in order to act effectively; and hence they term this grace sufficient, because it suffices of itself for action. The Jansenists, on the other hand, will not allow that any grace is actually sufficient which is not also efficacious; that is, that all those kinds of grace which do not determine the will to act effectively are insufficient for action; for they hold that a man can never act without efficacious grace.

Now, I think that Pascal has misunderstood the Jesuit view here.  See my own views on the Jesuit position here and here.  But at any rate that is how he understood the Jesuit position.  The Dominicans also understood the Jesuit position in the same way and so opposed it.  They maintained that it is God who makes the difference between those who obey God and those who do not.  God gives efficacious graces to some that he does not give to others, thus causing differences.  But they maintained at the same time, in agreement with the Jesuits and against the Jansenists, that God has given sufficient grace to all men so that all are able to obey God.  Pascal found their position absurd and infuriating.  He describes his impression of it vividly in a little parable:

     “Shall I present you with a picture of the Church amidst these conflicting sentiments? I consider her very like a man who, leaving his native country on a journey, is encountered by robbers, who inflict many wounds on him and leave him half dead. He sends for three physicians resident in the neighboring towns. The first, on probing his wounds, pronounces them mortal and assures him that none but God can restore to him his lost powers. The second, coming after the other, chooses to flatter the man — tells him that he has still sufficient strength to reach his home; and, abusing the first physician who opposed his advice, determines upon his ruin. In this dilemma, the poor patient, observing the third medical gentleman at a distance, stretches out his hands to him as the person who should determine the controversy. This practitioner, on examining his wounds, and ascertaining the opinions of the first two doctors, embraces that of the second, and uniting with him, the two combine against the first, and being the stronger party in number drive him from the field in disgrace. From this proceeding, the patient naturally concludes that the last comer is of the same opinion with the second; and, on putting the question to him, he assures him most positively that his strength is sufficient for prosecuting his journey. The wounded man, however, sensible of his own weakness, begs him to explain to him how he considered him sufficient for the journey. ‘Because,’ replies his adviser, ‘you are still in possession of your legs, and legs are the organs which naturally suffice for walking.’ ‘But,’ says the patient, ‘have I all the strength necessary to make use of my legs? for, in my present weak condition, it humbly appears to me that they are wholly useless.’ ‘Certainly you have not,’ replies the doctor; ‘you will never walk effectively, unless God vouchsafes some extraordinary assistance to sustain and conduct you.’ ‘What!’ exclaims the poor man, ‘do you not mean to say that I have sufficient strength in me, so as to want for nothing to walk effectively?’ ‘Very far from it,’ returns the physician. ‘You must, then,’ says the patient, ‘be of a different opinion from your companion there about my real condition.’ ‘I must admit that I am,’ replies the other.
     “What do you suppose the patient said to this? Why, he complained of the strange conduct and ambiguous terms of this third physician. He censured him for taking part with the second, to whom he was opposed in sentiment, and with whom he had only the semblance of agreement, and for having driven away the first doctor, with whom he in reality agreed; and, after making a trial of strength, and finding by experience his actual weakness, he sent them both about their business, recalled his first adviser, put himself under his care, and having, by his advice, implored from God the strength of which he confessed his need, obtained the mercy he sought, and, through divine help, reached his house in peace.

I think we can get a glimpse from this why the Church was concerned about the Jansenist position on this matter.  It is imperative that we do not give people the impression that sin is a disease of such a sort that it renders a person unable, by a natural inability, to obey God, that obeying God is beyond his power even if he should choose to obey him.  If we give this impression, we undercut people's sense of moral responsibility for their sin, for how can I be responsible for something over which I have no control?  I cannot be blamed for failing to do that which is impossible for me.  It is true that we must watch out for the other extreme as well and not give people the impression that God's grace is not necessary and that they can produce righteousness from themselves without God's help.  Catholic doctrine balances these concerns by acknowledging that the sacrifice and merits of Christ have given to the entire world sufficient grace so that it is impossible to no one to turn from sin and obey God--thus grounding moral responsibility--and at the same time it teaches that when a person does choose to obey God, his good will is entirely a gift of grace--thus making clear that our righteousness is a gift of God and not something produced from ourselves.  Grace gives to all the ability to obey God, but only to some the willingness to do so.  Thus Catholic teaching preserves all sides of the picture.  The Jansenists, by refusing to acknowledge sufficient grace and disputing as Pascal did above, lopped off (at least in their words, if not by intention) one side of the equation in order to promote the other.  In order to safeguard the graciousness of salvation, they denied that grace gives to all the ability to obey God.  But once that is denied, moral responsibility for sin is denied, and so sin itself is explained away, thus, ironically, undercutting the very need for grace.

Pascal's concern that it makes no sense to talk about a "sufficient" grace that doesn't actually, efficaciously, produce acts of good will is answered by clarifying what "sufficient" grace is sufficient for.  If by "sufficient grace" we meant "grace sufficient to produce the act of good will," then Pascal would be right, for we cannot call a grace sufficient to do something if it is not, in fact, sufficient to do it.  But that is not what the "sufficient" in "sufficient grace" refers to.  Sufficient grace is not sufficient to actually produce the act of good will, but it is sufficient to render the act of good will possible.  That is why it is called "sufficient grace," and the name is perfectly fitting.  The idea is that God has given enough (sufficient) grace to all men in order to make their obedience possible, but he has not given to all men the grace (efficacious) which makes their obedience actual.  There is no contradiction in this idea.

THE SECOND PROPOSITION

"In the state of fallen nature no one ever resists interior grace."

This proposition from Jansen's book was condemned because it is simply false.  It is true that no one ever (at least conclusively) resists efficacious grace intended to produce conversion, because by definition the grace is efficacious--which simply means that it always accomplishes what it is sent to do.  So if God gives you an efficacious grace intended to bring about your conversion, you will certainly be converted, and you will not ultimately resist conversion in such a way as to end up not being converted.  St. Augustine put it this way (On the Predestination of the Saints, Chapter 13--embedded links removed):

This grace, therefore, which is hiddenly bestowed in human hearts by the Divine gift, is rejected by no hard heart, because it is given for the sake of first taking away the hardness of the heart. When, therefore, the Father is heard within, and teaches, so that a man comes to the Son, He takes away the heart of stone and gives a heart of flesh, as in the declaration of the prophet He has promised. Because He thus makes them children and vessels of mercy which He has prepared for glory.

Fr. John Hardon, in his Course on Grace, Part Two - B: Grace Considered Intensively, Chapter XV ("Sufficient and Efficacious Grace"), described efficacious grace in this way:

By a truly efficacious grace is meant one that will be (is) infallibly followed by the act to which it tends, e.g. contrition. If you receive such a grace, even before your will consents to it, that grace is infallibly “sure of success;” it will infallibly procure your consent, produce that act – of contrition. But although it infallibly procures your consent, it does not necessitate you to consent: it leaves you free to dissent. Your will will infallibly say "yes" to it, but it is free to say "no.”

If Jansen had simply said this, there would not have needed to be a controversy.  But it is not necessarily the case that every "interior" grace is also efficacious grace, and so the statement is false as it stands.  There are no doubt all sorts of interior graces that are regularly resisted by people.  Even efficacious graces may be resisted to an extent, although not conclusively.

Perhaps Jansen meant by "interior" grace only efficacious, interior grace, and perhaps he meant only to say that no one ever conclusively rejects an efficacious grace in terms of the intended effect of that grace.  If so, then his sentiments on this point were orthodox.  But still, his statement, as it thus stands, communicates a false idea.

THE THIRD PROPOSITION

"To merit, or demerit, in the state of fallen nature we must be free from all external constraint, but not from interior necessity."

We are talking here about the requirements for moral responsibility.  Obviously, my actions, in order to be properly attributed to me for praise or for blame (merit or demerit), must not be the result of "external constraint," for that would mean they do not flow from my own will.  For example, if there is a sign on a fence that says "Keep out," but I am picked up against my will and thrown over the fence, I have not voluntarily or intentionally violated the warning of the sign and so am not to blame.

But do I need to be free of "interior necessity" also in order to be morally responsible for my actions?  Obviously, it depends on what "interior necessity" means.  Are we thinking of a situation in which I am forced by forces inside of me--say, overwhelming urges or instincts--to do something in such a way that my will is either circumvented or opposed?  Or are we simply saying that after a person considers all his options and decides that, all things considered, he would prefer to do A rather than B, he will certainly choose to do A and not B?

The latter idea is unproblematic.  It is simply an obvious fact of human psychology.  I am perfectly free to choose B.  Nothing is forcing me to choose A.  The options of A and B are laid before me, and it is entirely up to my will to determine whether I will choose A or B.  The fact that I will in fact choose what I most prefer does not create any necessity to choose one option or another in such a way that my will is circumvented or opposed.

The former idea, however, is very problematic.  If, for example, my internal urges reach such a pitch that my will is overwhelmed so that I am impelled by something other than my free choice to choose A over B, then, since my will is overwhelmed and thus either opposed or at least circumvented, I am not truly free to choose B, and so I cannot be praised or blamed for choosing A over B.  Moral responsibility is obliterated, because free will is obliterated.  (This is one reason why we recognize that some forms or levels of addiction or desire can have the effect of eradicating or mitigating moral responsibility.)

So which of these versions of "internal necessity" was Jansen closest to when he affirmed that freedom from "internal necessity" is not necessary for moral responsibility?  Again, I cannot go back and check his book to find out.  From what I've read in Pascal and elsewhere, I have hope that the meaning he had in mind was innocuous.  But even if this is right, the Church judged his expression to be defective, because it has the tendency to convey the impression that moral responsibility is compatible with a person being impelled to an act in such a way that his freedom of will is not adequately safeguarded.  In order to be truly morally responsible, our actions must flow freely from our will.  We must be free not only from "external constraint" (i.e., forces acting from outside one's inner self), but we must also be free from "internal necessity" (that is, from forces coming from within ourselves that are not simply the free choice of the will itself).

THE FOURTH PROPOSITION

"The Semipelagians admitted the necessity of interior preventing grace for all acts, even for the beginning of faith; but they fell into heresy in pretending that this grace is such that man may either follow or resist it."

The first concern that arises with this statement is that, as a historical matter, it is not clear that the Semipelagians (or at least all of them) granted the necessity of prevenient grace for all saving acts, including the beginning of faith.  In fact, one of the major points of opposition made against them by the Augustinians was that at least some of them affirmed that we can begin to have a good will without grace, and that grace only comes in after we have begun to help us continue doing good.  This view is often attributed, for example, to St. John Cassian.

(I would agree, though, that the primary error of what is called "Semipelagianism" is the idea that there is something savingly good we can produce from ourselves that is not produced in us by God's grace, as opposed to the idea that all our goodness is a fruit of God's grace.  The primary issue is not the timing of when grace comes in, but whether grace is the source of all and not just some of our saving good.)

With regard to whether or not man can resist grace, the Council of Trent had spoken clearly:

The Synod furthermore declares, that in adults, the beginning of the said Justification is to be derived from the prevenient grace of God, through Jesus Christ, that is to say, from His vocation, whereby, without any merits existing on their parts, they are called; that so they, who by sins were alienated from God, may be disposed through His quickening and assisting grace, to convert themselves to their own justification, by freely assenting to and co-operating with that said grace: in such sort that, while God touches the heart of man by the illumination of the Holy Ghost, neither is man himself utterly without doing anything while he receives that inspiration, forasmuch as he is also able to reject it; yet is he not able, by his own free will, without the grace of God, to move himself unto justice in His sight. Whence, when it is said in the sacred writings: Turn ye to me, and I will turn to you, we are admonished of our liberty; and when we answer; Convert us, O Lord, to thee, and we shall be converted, we confess that we are prevented by the grace of God.  (Chapter V of Session VI of the Council of Trent [page number removed])

"Neither is man himself utterly without doing anything while he receives that inspiration, forasmuch as he is also able to reject it."  The fourth proposition from Jansen seems to contradict Catholic doctrine as articulated at the Council of Trent on this point.  If I truly cannot reject grace, then grace works by circumventing my will, making me passive rather than active in conversion.  Thus, it is not Semipelagian but Catholic to affirm that "interior preventing grace . . . is such that man may either follow or resist it."

But, again, we must ask what was meant and not just what was said.  Calvinists often speak of "irresistible grace," and one might (and many do) get the impression from this that Calvinists believe that a person who receives "irresistible grace" is forced to convert to Christ and cannot refrain from it even if he wants to.  But Calvinists have always made it quite clear that they do not believe this.  For one modern example, take Calvinist author Loraine Boettner, whose work The Reformed Doctrine of Predestination (Eerdmans, 1932) is one of the most popular and widely-read modern Calvinist books on the subject:

The special grace which we refer to as efficacious is sometimes called irresistible grace. This latter term, however, is somewhat misleading since it does suggest that a certain overwhelming power is exerted upon the person, in consequence of which he is compelled to act contrary to his desires, whereas the meaning intended, as we have stated before, is that the elect are so influenced by divine power that their coming is an act of voluntary choice.  (Chapter XIII, 7) 
Nor does it follow from the absolute certainty of a person's acts that he could not have acted otherwise. He could have acted otherwise if he had chosen to have done so. Oftentimes a man has power and opportunity to do that which it is absolutely certain he will not do, and to refrain from doing that which it is absolutely certain he will do. That is, no external influence determines his actions. Our acts are in accordance with the decrees, but not necessarily so we can do otherwise and often should. Judas and his accomplices were left to fulfill their purpose, and they did as their wicked inclinations prompted them. Hence Peter charged them with the crime, but he at the same time declared that they had acted according to the purpose of God,--"Him being: delivered up by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, ye by the hands of lawless men did crucify and slay," Acts 2:23. 
On other grounds also it may be shown that certainty is consistent with free agency. We are often absolutely certain how we will act under given conditions so far as we are free to act at all. A parent may be certain that he will rescue a child in distress, and that in doing so he will act freely. God is a free agent, yet it is certain that He will always do right. The holy angels and redeemed saints are free agents, yet it is certain that they will never sin; other- wise there would be no assurance of their remaining in heaven. On the other hand, it is certain that the Devil, the demons and fallen men will commit sin, although they are free agents. A father often knows how his son will act under given circumstances and by controlling these he determines beforehand the course of action which the son follows, yet the son acts freely. If he plans that the son shall be doctor, he gives him encouragement along that line, persuades him to read certain books, to attend certain schools, and so presents the outside inducements that his plan works out. In the same manner and to an infinitely greater extent God controls our actions so that they are certain although we act freely. His decree does not produce the event, but only renders its occurrence certain; and the same decree which determines the certainty of the action at the same time determines the freedom of the agent in the act.  (Chapter XVI, 2) 
In accordance with this we believe that, without destroying or impairing the free agency of men, God can exercise over them a particular providence and work in them through His Holy Spirit so that they will come to Christ and persevere in His service. We believe further that none have this will and desire except those whom God has previously made willing and desirous; and that He gives this will and desire to none but His own elect. But while thus induced, the elect remain as free as the man that you persuade to take a walk or to invest in government securities.  (Chapter XVI, 5)

Likewise, if we listen to Blaise Pascal (Letter XVIII), we will come to the conclusion that Jansen and the Jansenists were also fully on board with Trent's insistence that the will has the ability to reject grace:

“To know,” say you, “whether Jansenius is sound or not, we must inquire whether he defends efficacious grace in the manner of Calvin, who denies that man has the power of resisting it — in which case he would be heretical; or in the manner of the Thomists, who admit that it may be resisted — for then he would be Catholic.” judge, then, father, whether he holds that grace may be resisted when he says: “That we have always a power to resist grace, according to the council; that free will may always act or not act, will or not will, consent or not consent, do good or do evil; and that man, in this life, has always these two liberties, which may be called by some contradictions.” Judge. likewise, if he be not opposed to the error of Calvin, as you have described it, when he occupies a whole chapter (21st) in showing “that the Church has condemned that heretic who denies that efficacious grace acts on the free will in the manner which has been so long believed in the Church, so as to leave it in the power of free will to consent or not to consent; whereas, according to St. Augustine and the council, we have always the power of withholding our consent if we choose; and according to St. Prosper, God bestows even upon his elect the will to persevere, in such a way as not to deprive them of the power to will the contrary.” And, in one word, judge if he does not agree with the Thomists, from the following declaration in chapter 4th: “That all that the Thomists have written with the view of reconciling the efficaciousness of grace with the power of resisting it, so entirely coincides with his judgement that to ascertain his sentiments on this subject we have only to consult their writings.”
     Such being the language he holds on these heads my opinion is that he believes in the power of resisting grace; that he differs from Calvin and agrees with the Thomists, because he has said so; and that he is, therefore, according to your own showing, a Catholic. If you have any means of knowing the sense of an author otherwise than by his expressions; and if, without quoting any of his passages, you are disposed to maintain, in direct opposition to his own words, that he denies this power of resistance, and that he is for Calvin and against the Thomists, do not be afraid, father, that I will accuse you of heresy for that. I shall only say that you do not seem properly to understand Jansenius; but we shall not be the less on that account children of the same Church.

Here Pascal quotes directly from Jansen's book, and seems to show pretty clearly that Jansen held that the will can reject grace.  So did Pope Innocent X wrongly attribute the sentiment of the fourth condemned proposition to Jansen?  Not necessarily.  As with the previous propositions, we may take the condemnation as not necessarily implying that Jansen intended a heretical sentiment, but only that some of his statements, whether by his intention or not, in fact tend to convey heretical sentiments.  Just as the Calvinist language of "irresistible grace" is meant (much of the time, at least) in an orthodox manner and yet it carries with it the connotation of an unorthodox meaning (as even the Calvinist author Boettner admits in the quotation above), so the Church judged that Jansen's book contained statements that carry in them the connotation of unorthodox sentiments; and the selected propositions are condemned according to that connotation and not necessarily according to the meaning intended by the author.  So far as I know, no one was ever required by the Catholic Church to believe that Jansen necessarily meant heretical sentiments in his propositional statements, but the Church did require it to be acknowledged that Jansen's propositions conveyed, in some way, heretical sentiments such that they were worthy of being censured by the Church.

(Ironically, at the same time that Pascal and other Jansenists were protesting that the Church had misunderstood and thus wrongly condemned Jansen's statements, they themselves were ignoring protests from Calvinists that their statements were being misconstrued and unjustly condemned by the Jansenists and other Catholics in precisely the same ways.  For example, while Pascal in the quotation above argues strenuously that Jansen did not reject the idea that grace can be resisted like Calvin did, the Calvinists were at the same time arguing that Calvin and themselves did not reject the idea that grace can be resisted either--at least in the Trentian sense that would imply that consent is lacking in the conversion of a soul.  Personally, from what I have seen, I suspect that Calvin and Jansen and Trent were all in agreement on this point in substance, and that what the Church condemned, as I argued above, was not necessarily the internal sentiments of either Calvin or Jansen but the sentiments conveyed by connotation by their published propositions--although I should add that, unlike with Jansen, I'm not aware of the Church ever formally condemning any statement explicitly attributed by her to Calvin.)

We also noted earlier that not all grace given to men is intended by God to be efficacious to actually bring about conversion.  So even if Jansen held that efficacious grace can be resisted, even if we interpret the fourth condemned proposition to be saying not that grace cannot be resisted but only that it will not be resisted, the fourth proposition would still be wrong in claiming that no one ever resists any interior preventing grace.  There are all sorts of interior preventing graces that not only can be resisted by men but which actually are frequently resisted.

THE FIFTH PROPOSITION

"To say that Christ died or shed His blood for all men, is Semipelagianism."

Pope Innocent X's bull provided a qualification on the condemnation of this proposition.  It is condemned "if understood in the sense that Christ died only for the predestined."

As with all the other condemned propositions, there are ways in which the proposition can be taken that are orthodox, and there are heterodox ways to take it.  Obviously, the Church has condemned the proposition as conveying a heretical sense.

There is no doubt that, in a sense, God wills all men to be saved.  It is equally true that, in another sense, he only wills some to be saved.  St. Thomas Aquinas (along with many others) distinguished between the "antecedent" and the "consequent" will of God.  The "antecedent" will of God refers to what God wills all other things being equal.  The "consequent" will of God refers to what God wills all things considered.  (I discuss this further in this article.)  God wills the salvation of all men, in that the salvation of a person is inherently pleasing to him while the damnation of a person (in terms of the suffering of the person per se) is inherently displeasing to him.  But in his eternal plan, God sees that it is better overall, all things considered, that efficacious grace to bring about conversion and perseverance not be given equally to all men, and so God chooses some to whom to give that grace and some to whom not to give it (resulting in some people converting and persevering and some people not).

So, in light of this, did Christ die for all men?  It depends on what we mean.  If "Christ died for all men" means that Christ made an atonement sufficient for the sins of all men, which made the salvation of all men possible, and which is sincerely available to and offered to all men, then yes, Christ died for all men.  If "Christ died for all men" means that Christ intended his atonement to actually accomplish effectively the eternal salvation of all men and that, through it, he intended to give the same efficacious grace of conversion and perseverance to all men, then no, Christ did not die for all men.

My guess is that Jansen intended his proposition in the latter sense.  In other words, he was probably simply intending to reject the idea that God has the same eternally salvific intentions towards all men and that he has intended the same, fully efficacious graces for all men.  If this was his meaning, then his meaning was orthodox.  However, as with the previous propositions, the Church saw in his proposition a natural connotation towards a heretical viewpoint--such as one in which Christ does not sincerely offer his death for the salvation of all men, or one in which some people who want to be saved will be rejected because Christ's death was not for them, or one in which Christ has not provided sufficient grace to make possible the salvation of all men.  And thus she condemned the proposition in light of this connotation.

Similarly, Calvinists have historically affirmed the doctrine of "limited atonement"--that is, that Christ died not for all men but only for the elect (the predestined).  They have often been misunderstood to be affirming the sorts of heretical ideas mentioned above, because the connotation conveyed by "limited atonement" seems naturally to suggest those ideas to many people.  And yet Calvinists have always made it clear that they do not intend to affirm such ideas.  Here, again, is Loraine Boettner, speaking of "limited atonement" (footnote references added to text):

This doctrine does not mean that any limit can be set to the value or power of the atonement which Christ made. The value of the atonement depends upon, and is measured by, the dignity of the person making it; and since Christ suffered as a Divine-human person the value of His suffering was infinite. The Scripture writers tell us plainly that the "Lord of glory" was crucified, 1 Cor. 2:8; that wicked men "killed the Prince of life," Acts 3:15; and that God "purchased" the Church "with His own blood," Acts 20:28. The atonement, therefore, was infinitely meritorious and might have saved every member of the human race had that been God's plan. It was limited only in the sense that it was intended for, and is applied to, particular persons; namely for those who are actually saved.  (Chapter XII, 2) 
While the value of the atonement was sufficient to save all mankind, it was efficient to save only the elect. It is indifferently well adapted to the salvation of one man to that of another, thus making the salvation of every man objectively possible; yet because of subjective difficulties, arising on account of the sinners own inability either to see or appreciate the things of God, only those are saved who are regenerated and sanctified by the Holy Spirit. The reason why God does not apply this grace to all men has not been fully revealed.  (Chapter XII, 3) 
Will any one contend that God cannot sincerely offer salvation to a free moral agent unless in addition to the invitation He exerts a special influence which will induce the person to accept it? After a civil war in a country it often happens that the victorious general offers free pardon to all those In the opposing army, provided they will lay down their arms, go home, and live peaceable lives, although he knows that through pride or malice many will refuse. He makes the offer in good faith even though for wise reasons he determines not to constrain their assent, supposing him possessed of such power. 
We may imagine the case of a ship with many passengers on board sinking some distance out from shore. A man hires a boat from a near-by port and goes to rescue his family. Incidentally it happens that the boat which he takes is large enough to carry all the passengers, so he invites all those on the sinking vessel to come on board, although he knows that many of them, either through lack of appreciation of their danger, or because of personal spite toward him, or for other reasons, will not accept. Yet does that make his offer any the less sincere? "If a man's family were with others held in captivity, and from love of them and with the purpose of their redemption, a ransom should be offered sufficient for the delivery of the whole body of captives, it is plain that the offer of deliverance might be extended to all on the ground of that ransom, although specially intended only for a part of their number. Or, a man may make a feast for his own friends and the provisions be so abundant that he may throw open his doors to all who are willing to come. This is precisely what God, according to the Calvinistic doctrine, has actually done. Out of special love to His people, and with the design of securing their salvation He has sent His Son to do what justifies the offer of salvation to all who choose to accept it." [136--Hodge, Systematic Theology, II., p. 556.] 
When the Gospel is presented to mankind in general nothing but a sinful unwillingness on the part of some prevents their accepting and enjoying it. No stumbling block is put in their way. All that the call contains is true; it is adapted to the conditions of all men and freely offered if they will repent and believe. No outside influence constrains them to reject it. The elect accept; the non-elect may accept if they will, and nothing but their own nature determines them to do otherwise. "According to the Calvinistic scheme," says Dr. Hodge, "the non-elect have all the advantages and opportunities of securing their salvation, that, according to any other scheme, are granted to mankind indiscriminately. Calvinism teaches that a plan of salvation adapted to all men and adequate for the salvation of all, is freely offered to the acceptance of all, although in the secret purpose of God He intended that it should have precisely the effect which in experience it is found to have. He designed in its adoption to save His own people, but consistently offers its benefits to all who are willing to receive them. More than this no anti-Calvinist can demand." [137--Systematic Theology, II., p. 644.]  (Chapter XXI, 2)

CONCLUSION

Evaluation of the Jansenist controversy can be tricky, because so much rides on nuances and connotations, and the same phrases can often be given contradictory meanings.  Hopefully my analysis above has been helpful.  My own views on this matter are clearer than they were when I first began to convert to Catholicism.

I think it is worthwhile at this point to point out two lessons that I think can be learned from examining this controversy.  One of those lessons is that we have to be very careful to understand the meanings of the words and phrases people use, and be wary of assuming the worst interpretations of what is said by those whom we consider to be our "ideological opponents."  Many Catholics, I'm sure, simply take it for granted that Calvinists and Jansenists held and hold many things that turn out to be mere caricatures of their real views.  We do not act with appropriate charity when we do not do what we can to avoid negative misconstruals of what others think and say.  In addition, a tendency to be sloppy in our efforts to understand other people's points of view often results as well in a weak and superficial understanding of the true doctrine.  If more Catholics would take more time and effort to understand Jansenists and Calvinists, one result would be that they would gain a clearer and more profound understanding of the Catholic doctrines on the topics of predestination and efficacious grace (which, when one gets beyond the superficial, may end up seeming a lot closer to what those awful Jansenists or Calvinists said or are saying than we may be comfortable with).

On the other hand, Jansenism was condemned.  This can teach us that even when we mean well, we need to be careful how we speak.  Are our words and phrases and forms of speaking conveying the fullness of the truth in a balanced way, or, despite our good intentions, are we so imbalanced in our speech that we are conveying imbalanced and erroneous impressions through what we say?  There is also a lesson of humility here.  Both the Calvinists and the Jansenists ultimately refused to listen to the admonitions of the Church.  They chose to value their own cherished phrases and ways of saying things and peculiar ideas over obedience to the authority Christ gave to his Church.  The Jansenists in particular continued for decades to resist the Church while at the same time professing submission to her.  This is made even more ironic when we recognize that the Jansenists (and the Calvinists, at least on these points) could probably have preserved the substance of their sentiments on these topics without needing to produce a breach with the Church, since the problems seem to have lain more in the connotations of their propositions than with the real substance of what they were wanting to affirm.  We have a conscientious duty to preserve the truth and to avoid agreeing to falsehood, but we do not have a duty to maintain our pet phrases and doctrinal forms unnecessarily and stubbornly at the cost of obedience to and unity with the Church of Christ.

For more on the general Catholic teaching regarding predestination and efficacious grace, see here.

Published on the feast of St. Ephrem

ADDENDUM 12/13/17:  I was reading through Denzinger's anthology of Catholic dogmatic pronouncements over the centuries and came across Pope Alexander VII's constitution entitled "Ad sacram beati PETRIA sedem," published October 16, 1656.  This constitution was issued in response to the Jansenists' response to the condemnation of the five propositions from Jansen's book, discussed above.  If you read the history of the Jansenist controversy (such as you can find in the article linked to in the first paragraph of this article), you will see that the Jansenists tried to escape the force of the papal condemnation of Jansen's ideas by declaring that they agreed with the papal condemnation of the ideas enshrined in the five propositions while denying that those propositions actually occurred in Jansen's book.  They asserted that the Church was theologically accurate but had erred in a matter of non-theological fact in claiming that the condemned ideas were actually in Jansen's book.  This way, in their thinking, they could continue to be Jansenists without being heretics.  Well, the Church would have none of that, as this constitution indicates:

(6) We declare and define that these five propositions have been taken from the book of the aforementioned Cornelius Jansen, Bishop of Ypres, entitled AUGUSTINUS, and in the sense understood by that same Cornelius condemned. ( (Henry Denzinger, The Sources of Catholic Dogma, tr. Roy J. Deferrari [Fitzwilliam, NH: Loreto Publications, 2001], a translation of "the thirtieth edition of Enchiridion Symbolorum by Henry Denzinger, revised by Karl Rahner, S.J., published in 1954, by Herder & Co., Freiburg", p. 318)

The Church's position expressed here made it clearly impossible to any longer claim with plausibility to be a Jansenist but not a heretic.

I bring this up because in my attempt to offer a nuanced analysis of Jansen's ideas (at least as they are mediated through Pascal) in the article above, I suggest the possibility that Jansen might have been (at least to some degree) orthodox in terms of the substance of his beliefs and in what he was trying to say while using language that carried a heretical connotation.  But does Pope Alexander's constitution cut me off from being able to hold such a view as a possibility?  I don't think so.  Here's why:  What the constitution is condemning is the position that the heretical ideas condemned under the form of the five propositions are not actually found in Jansen's book, that the Church only found them there by misreading Jansen's book and finding in it things that weren't actually there.  That's what the Jansenists seemed to be claiming, or at least some of them.  But that is not what I am suggesting.  I do not deny that the condemned heretical ideas are indeed contained in Jansen's book.  (Not being able to read the Augustinus myself at this point, I can't independently confirm or deny that the condemned ideas are there, but I take it on the authority of the Church that they are.)  What I suggest in the above article is rather that although Jansen does indeed state the condemned propositions and so communicate the condemned heretical ideas, perhaps he had not thought through the full meaning or all the logical implications of everything he had said.  Perhaps he made assertions that in fact communicated heretical ideas while at the same time not really realizing the heretical implications of what he was saying.  For example, it may be that Jansen asserts in his book, in effect, that the will cannot resist grace.  Well, this is heretical, because it is Catholic doctrine that the will can resist grace.  However, perhaps what Jansen really wanted to say was that when God gives an efficacious grace, that grace is actually efficacious.  It converts the will, and so the will never resists it, although it could do so.  Perhaps this is what Jansen really believed.  But, and this is the important thing, whether he believed this or not, it is not what he actually said.  What he said (assuming this interpretation of the wording of the fourth condemned proposition) was that the will cannot resist grace.  He should not have said this, because it is not true.  The Church has not read this claim into his book; it is truly, objectively, there--even if, perhaps, he didn't think it through enough to recognize its heretical implications.

Similarly, as I pointed out above, Calvinists typically refer to converting grace as irresistible.  This is heretical, because it is Catholic doctrine that the will can resist grace.  However, many Calvinists use this language without having thought through all the implications of it, while, in their hearts, thinking about the subject in a much more orthodox way.  Some Calvinists, as I pointed out with the example of Loraine Boettner above, even recognize that the language of irresistible grace has false connotations but continue to use it anyway.  Thus, from the Catholic point of view, they truly assert heretical ideas even if, at the same time, it is true that they don't really hold in their heart of hearts the ideas they are truly asserting (or the full implications of those ideas).

So all of this can get very complicated.  I hold with the Church, and on the Church's authority, that Jansen did indeed express heretical ideas in his book.  Those ideas are truly in his book  They are not falsely read into his book by eisegesis, or by taking what he has said out of context.  But it still may be true that Jansen's expressed ideas may not have matched the substance of what he actually believed had those beliefs been expressed in language that avoided the false heretical connotations.

Also, while I'm writing, I will also mention that I came across in Denzinger a more specific account of the language the Church used in condemning Jansen's five propositions (Denzinger, p. 316):

The first proposition was "[d]eclared and condemned as rash, impious, blasphemous, condemned by anathema and heretical."  The second proposition was "[d]eclared and condemned as heretical."  The third proposition was "[d]eclared and condemned as heretical."  The fourth proposition was "[d]eclared and condemned as false and heretical."  The fifth proposition was "[d]eclared and condemned as false, rash, scandalous, and understood in this sense, that Christ died for the salvation of the predestined, impious, blasphemous, contumelious, dishonoring to divine piety, and heretical."

ADDENDUM 1/10/18:  I've been reading recently through a nineteenth-century book on the history of the Church of France, and I came across in it a nice statement of the sort of thing I was getting at in my previous addendum, distinguishing between what Jansen said and the sentiments that may have been in his heart.  I thought I'd quote that section.  The author is talking about the absurdity of the Jansenist position that the Pope may be infallible in matters of doctrine but not necessarily in matters of fact (an idea they used to escape the Pope's condemnation of the Jansenist position).

    If the Pope, though doctrinally incapable of error, may at the same time misapprehend the sense of the writings upon which his decision is sought, it is difficult to perceive in what his infallibility consists.  How can he decide questions of dogma, unless he can also interpret works which treat of dogma?  To pretend that the interpretation of such works is a question of fact as opposed to one of doctrine, is a mere abuse of language.  These are not ordinary facts, but facts which are involved of necessity in controversies of faith; and with respect to such facts, it is plain that either the Pope must be able to pronounce unerringly or that he is not infallible at all.  No one, of course, pretended that the Pope can judge of any private ideas or purposes which a man may secretly cherish in his own mind.  An author may possibly believe the very contrary to that which he has expressed in words; but the Church is concerned only with the natural legitimate sense of his published language; and, on Roman principles, it must be competent to the Pope, acting as the organ of the Church, to determine whether certain opinions have actually been broached, and whether they are or are not in accordance with the Rule of Faith.  If every one whom Rome condemns could excuse himself by alleging that the Pope had misunderstood him, and that in point of fact he never entertained such sentiments, it would follow that the judicial functions of the Papal Chair must in course of time be altogether superseded.  Heresy might be perpetually condemned, and heretics might nevertheless persist in propagating the self-same errors, on the pretext that their real opinions were totally distinct from those specified in the censure.  (Rev. W. Henley Jervis, History of the Church of France, Volume 1 [London: John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1872], 448-449)