His contemporaries most frequently
commented on Thomas's humility, a virtue little prized in our times, since we
seem unable to distinguish between the humble person's self-evaluation from what
we call low self-esteem. In consequence, self-assertion takes on the
appearance of a virtue, merely by way of contrast with that mistaken conception
of humility. Humility, in sense of that his contemporaries observed its
presence in Thomas, had more to do with that peculiarly difficult form of
vulnerability, which consists in being entirely open to the discovery of the
truth, especially to the truth about oneself. One might say, likewise, that what
humility is to the moral life, lucidity is to the intellectual ˗ an openness to
contestation, the refusal to hide behind the opacity of the obscure, a
vulnerability to refutation to which one is open simply as a result of being
clear enough to be seen, if wrong, to be wrong.
We might say, then, that Thomas
was fearlessly clear, unafraid to be shown to be wrong, and correspondingly
angered by those among his colleagues, especially in the University of Paris,
who in his view refused to play the game on a field levelled by lucidity and openness
equal in degree of honesty to the requirements of the intellectual life. And
yet, even in Thomas’s anger there is nothing personal. His is the anger of a
true teacher observing students to have been betrayed by colleagues. It has no
more to do with self-assertion than his humility has to do with lack of
self-worth.
From Thomas Aquinas: a portrait, by Denys Turner, pages 39-40
From Thomas Aquinas: a portrait, by Denys Turner, pages 39-40
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