Anselm: A Spiritual Scholastic

Ask your average theology student or medieval history buff what they know about St. Anselm of Canterbury (d. 1109), and if they can recall one thing about him it is likely the fact that he developed the “ontological argument” for the existence of God. For many, that scary word “ontological” immediately signals that this argument, and therefore this saint of old, must have little relevance for the real world in which we undertake our pilgrim journey of faith. Anselm, we suspect, may be little more than an intellectual navel-gazer, an early example of a medieval scholastic who had nothing better to do than debate trivial matters such as the number of angels that can dance on the head of a pin.

More than an Austere Academic

Anselm was not merely an intellectual, but a deeply spiritual and emotional thinker whose scholastic approach was deeply rooted in prayer and in the relationship he cultivated with God therein. Share on X On further reflection, however, this caricature of scholasticism in general, and of Anselm in particular, is highly misleading. As we will see in this article, Anselm was not merely an intellectual, but a deeply spiritual and emotional thinker whose scholastic approach was deeply rooted in prayer and in the relationship he cultivated with God therein. In particular, we will analyze how Anselm prayerfully frames his ontological argument for God’s existence in his Proslogion through an emphasis on “faith seeking understanding,” demonstrating his commitment to loving God with both his heart and his mind. As a result, we will have a more complete—and more accurate—understanding of Anselm as well as the sensibility of medieval scholasticism more generally.

Anselm’s Proslogion (ca. 1078) is unquestionably one of the most important philosophical texts of the Middle Ages. 1 Yet Anselm did not see himself as merely engaging in a purely academic exercise. In the work’s preface, Anselm writes that this work was written “from the point of view of someone trying to raise his mind to the contemplation of God, and seeking to understand what he believes.” 2 His argument for God’s existence, in other words, proceeds from within the frame of reference of one who already believes in God. To use Anselm’s famous phrase, his theological perspective is fides quaerens intellectum, faith seeking understanding, insofar as faith precedes, motivates, and controls the search for greater depth of knowledge of God.

One possible misunderstanding at this point would be to assume that faith is itself a purely intellectual category. Anselm, however, does not allow for such a possibility. As the above quotation indicates, Anselm perceived his work to be meaningful only for one who desires to “contemplate” God. By contemplation, Anselm is referring to that earthly experience of the soul that rests in the love of God in a way that foreshadows the beatific vision of the next life. In speaking of the beatific vision, traditionally understood to be the ultimate end of humanity, we enter the deep waters of great mystery. Still, in speaking of “seeing God,” we are trying to put into words how the beatific vision, “in its perpetual gaze on God in Christ, centers like nothing else on enjoying him.” 3 The great Gothic cathedrals of the Middle Ages were, after all, designed to similarly lift our eyes upward; the cathedral’s pillars and vaults refocus our gaze toward the divine as an earthly manifestation of our heavenly destiny.

Faith and Love as Precursors for Knowledge

Anselm's theological perspective is fides quaerens intellectum, faith seeking understanding, insofar as faith precedes, motivates, and controls the search for greater depth of knowledge of God. Share on XAnselm’s theological perspective is fides quaerens intellectum, faith seeking understanding, insofar as faith precedes, motivates, and controls the search for greater depth of knowledge of God. In any event, precisely because this ultimate communion with God involves intimate knowledge of one another and our transformation into the image of Christ, there is no sense in which we can separate out our “heads” from our “hearts.” Rather, it is only when faith is joined with love that our hearts and minds are sufficiently aligned for the task of doing theology. Faith, we might say, is inherently relational and therefore cannot be abstracted as a merely intellectual enterprise.

Anselm quickly moves to reinforce these themes. Following upon the preface, and before moving into the ontological argument proper, Anselm inserts an extended, poetic meditation in which he bounces back and forth from addressing his own soul to addressing God. He begins by exhorting his own self towards greater faith and love as a precondition for the task ahead:

Come now, little man,

turn aside for a while from your daily employment,

escape for a moment from the tumult of your thoughts.

Put aside your weighty cares,

let your burdensome distractions wait,

free yourself awhile for God

and rest awhile in him.

Enter the inner chamber of your soul,

shut out everything except God

and that which can help you in seeking him,

and when you have shut the door, seek him.

Now, my whole heart, say to God,

‘I seek your face,

Lord, it is your face I seek.’ 4

With the culminating quotation of Ps 27:8, Anselm identifies the contemplation of God as the ultimate telos of human existence, and something that can be experienced even now in this mortal life. This will be difficult work, Anselm tells us, as it requires shutting out all cares and distractions, indeed every tumultuous thought, and yet seeking the face of God in Christ leads to freedom, rest, and life.

Blinded by Sin

Drawing on this same language, Anselm next directs his prayer to God, signaling that the words of the psalmist have now become the cry of his own heart:

            O Lord my God,

            teach my heart where and how to seek you,

            where and how to find you.

            Lord, if you are not here but absent,

            where shall I seek you?

            But you are everywhere, so you must be here,

            why then do I not seek you? 5

Here we see Anselm employing some basic theological reasoning, observing that our difficulties in seeking God come not from God’s absence or hiddenness but rather, as he goes on to explain in the following verses of his poem-prayer, the result of human sinfulness that broke our original communion with God. Now, as a consequence of sin, our blindness hinders us from seeing what is true, our quest for goodness leads us only deeper into turmoil, and we cannot see God’s beauty amidst this present darkness. But the image of God in us is only marred, not destroyed, and so through God’s great work of redemption we regain the capacity, in this life, to taste God’s truth, goodness, and beauty, even as we await the full consummation of these things in the life to come. As Anselm concludes:

            Lord, I am not trying to make my way to your height,

            for my understanding is in no way equal to that,

            but I do desire to understand a little of your truth

            which my heart already believes and loves.

            I do not seek to understand so that I may believe,

            but I believe so that I may understand;

            and what is more,

            I believe that unless I do believe I shall not understand. 6

A Unified Telos

The universal human quest for truth, goodness, and beauty finds its end in God himself, calling forth our whole selves, our souls and bodies, to be “living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God” (Rom 12:1). Share on X The universal human quest for truth, goodness, and beauty finds its end in God himself, calling forth our whole selves, our souls and bodies, to be “living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God” (Rom 12:1). This, then, is the beating heart of Anselm’s theology and spirituality: that faith and love compel us to deeper knowledge of God, such that the inclination of our heart and our mind are bent towards their eternal resting point. There is, therefore, “a deep unity in Anselm between prayer and life and thought.” 7 This “scholastic spirituality” holds together the whole human person as moving towards a singular end: the eternal contemplation of the truth, goodness, and beauty of God. Thus, the man who in his philosophical writings “appears to be the prototype for the model of pure, neutral rationality” is the same man who “is far ahead of his time in creating an intensely personal and passionate spirituality in his prayers, meditations, and letters of spiritual direction.” 8 Our inability to see how these two “opposites” cohere is a failure of our imagination, not a flaw in Anselm’s approach or in the greater medieval tradition more broadly. It is, rather, the case that the intellectual Anselm and the devotional Anselm are engaged in the same project: “union of the self with God.” 9 The beatific vision motivates us both to know God and to love him. The universal human quest for truth, goodness, and beauty finds its end in God himself, calling forth our whole selves, our souls and bodies, to be “living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God” (Rom 12:1).

While some of us may more naturally come at faith primarily from a place of intellectual inquiry, and while others may prioritize emotional connection with God, Anselm reminds us that these are not opposing dispositions but actually two streams feeding into a common river of faith. In an increasingly post-Christian landscape, let us raise up a new generation of men and women who, like Anselm, strive with hearts and minds to taste the truth, goodness, and beauty of King Jesus. For perhaps, in an era of compartmentalization and fragmentation, it might be the witness of those who have integrated the mind and the heart into a singular pursuit of God that will shine most brightly.

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Endnotes: 

1 On the Proslogion, see further Eileen C. Sweeney, Anselm of Canterbury and the Desire for the Word (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2012), 147–69. For a brief introduction to Anselm’s life and legacy, see Benedicta Ward, Anselm of Canterbury: His Life and Legacy (London: SPCK, 2009).

2 Anselm, Proslogion pref. All translations of the Proslogion are taken from The Prayers and Meditations of Saint Anselm with the Proslogion, trans. Benedicta Ward (Penguin Classics; London: Penguin, 1973).

3 See further Hans Boersma, Seeing God: The Beatific Vision in the Christian Tradition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2018), 5. For scriptural background, see, e.g., Job 19:26–27; Ps 23:1; Matt 5:8; John 17:24; 1 Cor 13:12; 2 Cor 3:18; 1 John 3:2.

4 Anselm, Proslogion 1.1–14 (trans. Ward).

5 Anselm, Proslogion 1.15–21 (trans. Ward).

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