The Consolation of The Distinction

Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius was no doubt surprised to find himself in prison. Having received the highest education available in his day, belonging to the Italian aristocracy, and serving as the Roman magister officiorum or Master of Offices, fortune had been good to him. Yet it was that descent from privilege to prison that produced one of the most enduringly influential works of the Middle Ages. The Consolation of Philosophy, written in A.D. 524 during Boethius’ house arrest in Pavia, reflects on his change of fortune, and it became his most well-known work.

Reading Consolation with eyes alert to its theological mechanics reveals that basic to Boethius’ theology is a strong Creator-creature distinction—what Robert Sokolowski has called “the distinction”. In what follows, I will explain the distinction and then proceed to demonstrate a few places where it functions significantly in Consolation. It will become clear that Boethius’ argument requires the distinction to work and that, in his use of it, he is mediating to posterity one of the most fundamental and important concepts of the classical understanding of God. Finally, I will suggest that the Creator-creature distinction proves to be an enduring and important consolation not only for Boethius but for us.

The God-World Distinction

God is not a thing or object among other objects, but the indivisible, whole, complete, perfect One from whom all things find their source, being, and end. Share on X

The distinction between God and the world, between Creator and creature, is more profound than it sounds. It is more than a mere acknowledgement that God is not of the world, that the Creator is different than creatures. It does something much more: it disrupts and reconceptualizes our notion of the nature of the relation between God and everything that is not-God. The distinction between God and the world is a theological mechanism for stating that God is not merely one term in a two-term relation, nor simply the superlative being in a great chain of being. No, the distinction is a way of speaking of the radical ontological alterity of God relative to all of contingent reality. God is not temporal, but the eternal source of temporality. God is not another being, but the superabundant source of being itself. God is not sui generis, but non generis—distinct from the notion of category or genre altogether. God is not a thing or object among other objects, but the indivisible, whole, complete, perfect One from whom all things find their source, being, and end.

The distinction between Creator and creature is not, then, like any other distinction between two “things” in creation. Rather, it is a distinction that makes all other distinctions possible. This means that any study of God that takes the distinction seriously will be unlike the study of any object. It is not like the study of creaturely reality, but is the study of the One by whom and through whom and to whom are all things—the study of the very condition of the possibility of being or knowledge or time.

This distinction has been characterized and reinforced theologically in many ways. The doctrines of simplicity, aseity, creatio ex nihilo, and actus purus each reinforce the distinction in their own ways. Nicholas of Cusa’s claim that God is non aliud, or not another thing like things in the world, is another way of characterizing the distinction. However it is conceptualized, the distinction between God and the world is clear: God is radically ontologically other, the ontic condition for being itself, the One by whom all being and all distinction is made possible. And so fundamental to Christian theology is the distinction that Robert Sokolowski has argued that it was the controlling concern in the Christological controversies of the fourth and fifth centuries. It should be no surprise then that Boethius carries this fundamental distinction into the theology of the sixth century. And just as it operated as an unquestioned assumption in the classical period, it continues to operate in the background of Boethius’ work. For that reason, we do not find an extended or robust explanation of it. Yet the arguments of Consolation depend on it, as we shall now see.

Two Examples of the Distinction in Consolation

I want to identify two places where the God-world distinction appears in Consolation and analyze how it functions for Boethius. Lady Philosophy declares to Boethius, “You are suffering because of your incorrect beliefs.” It will be shown that a correct belief in God’s radical ontological alterity is necessary for Boethius to achieve the kind of consolation he seeks.

Divine Simplicity

The first is an argument for a version of divine simplicity that spans Books 2 and 3. This argument for divine simplicity is, for Boethius, a matter of understanding God’s good governance of the universe. “How happy is mankind, if the love that orders the stars above rules, too, in your hearts,” sings Lady Philosophy.

Thus, in Book 3, Lady Philosophy proceeds to lead Boethius toward true happiness. But first she must clear away the brush and weeds, namely, the temptation to find happiness in the trappings of wealth, honor, power, fame, pleasure, or some combination of these (3.II-VIII). Only then does she go on to argue that each of these trappings is so just because it is divided from the others and that they are, in fact, all parts of one and the same object (3.IX). Misery comes from dividing them. True and full happiness would make one all of those things together.

Enter Boethius the theologian. Lady Philosophy asks, “Do you think that there is anything in this changeable and mortal world that can provide a condition such as [full and true and perfect happiness]?” Predictably, Boethius responds, “Almost certainly not.” Happiness, if it is to be found, cannot be found in this changeable and mortal world. Rather, Lady Philosophy suggests that they follow Plato’s Timaeus and call upon God for help—a God who is not of this world.

Lady Philosophy goes on in 3.X to teach Boethius about happiness, the good, and God, suggesting that they are all one and the same. She does so, first, by arguing that if there is such a thing as imperfect happiness, then that necessitates a notion of an enduring and perfect happiness. Second, she claims that God is conceived of as that than which nothing better can be conceived. This means that God is good in the ultimate sense of goodness, and that God must not receive goodness from some external source, but that God is “inherently and in his substance the highest good” (3.X). Third, following up an earlier argument, Philosophy reasserts that happiness is the highest good. From these three propositions, Lady Philosophy declares that happiness is the highest good and that the highest good is God. Therefore, God is happiness. Then, in 3.XI, she argues that oneness or unity and goodness are one and the same because imperfect things are imperfect due to their incompleteness, because they lack the character of wholeness or completeness. For goodness to be what it is, it must be unitive, complete, not divided, one. All of this produces a form of divine simplicity wherein God is goodness, which is happiness, which is undivided and one.

For goodness to be what it is, it must be unitive, complete, not divided, one. All of this produces a form of divine simplicity wherein God is goodness, which is happiness, which is undivided and one. Share on X

Finally, concluding Book 3, the argument is summarized. God is happiness itself. He is goodness itself. He orders all things and, as goodness itself, orders things toward the good. At the conclusion of Philosophy’s summary, Boethius even asks, “Are you deliberately making it all a circle that demonstrates the simplicity of God?” (3.XII) In response, Philosophy declares, “We have looked at the most important of all subjects with the help of God… For the form of divine substance is such that it does not devolve into external things, nor does it receive anything from external sources… It is the unmoving pivot on which the world turns.” (3.XII)

Now whether or not one is persuaded by this style of argument for divine simplicity, it should be observed that Boethius is putting the God-world distinction to work, and the result is a form of divine simplicity. For Boethius, the only way to make sense of the governance of the universe, the seemingly fickle nature of Fortune, the inevitable disappointment with so many of life’s trappings, is an understanding of God that is strongly contrasted with the created world. The latter is divided, partial, and incomplete, whereas God is whole, a unity, the very essence of goodness, happiness, and joy. In other words, God is one and creation is divided. God is whole, and creation is always partial. More than that, God, as the very essence of goodness and happiness, does not receive goodness or happiness from outside himself, but is the ultimate source of all goodness and happiness. The divine nature is a se, such that while creatures derive their goodness and happiness in partial ways from outside of themselves, God just is those things in their completeness. This is a strong Creator-creature distinction, an account of divine alterity that is necessary, according to Boethius, for a right understanding of the governance of the universe, for happiness.

Divine Eternality

A second major appearance of the Creator-creature distinction appears in Book 5. There, Boethius and Lady Philosophy engage in a protracted discussion that is set off by Boethius’ question about the existence of “pure chance”. The discussion twists and turns through topics like divine sovereignty and human freedom, divine and human knowledge, and the nature of time and eternity. This complex nexus of themes cannot be rehearsed here. Again, my goal is only a modest one: to show that Boethius’s argument in Consolation is dependent on a strong Creator-creature distinction. In Book 5, it is especially operative in discussions of epistemology and the nature of time.

Speaking of divine and human knowing, Lady Philosophy suggests that “things are known not according to their natures but according to the nature of the one who is comprehending them” (5.VI). Thus, God knows things according to the divine nature, in a divine way. Humans know things according to the human nature, in a human way. So, how is divine knowing conditioned by the divine nature? Because, according to Lady Philosophy, “All who live by reason agree that God is eternal,” then that eternality must make divine knowing distinct as a kind of eternal knowing. Lady Philosophy offers a definition of eternity as “the whole, simultaneous, perfect possession of limitless life” (5.VI). In contrast to creaturely life, in all its temporality, God is not the subject of temporal succession. It is not that God is the subject of infinite time, both backwards into history and forward into the future. No, there is no experience of temporal succession whatsoever. God is not conditioned by time in any way. The notion of divine eternality, for Boethius, is identical with the divine nature. It is properly predicated only of God, the One who perfectly possesses his whole, limitless life in a kind of divine simultaneity. The eternality of God, then, is a kind of complete and simultaneous present that comprehends the entirety of time. Divine knowing is an omniscience that is predicated on divine timelessness, a kind of absolute and comprehensive knowledge of all things on account of a perfect and simultaneous grasp of all things.

In contrast to knowing according to the divine nature, creaturely knowledge is conditioned by temporality. For Boethius, creaturely temporality only “imitates” eternity in its attempt to achieve an eternal present. Creaturely time finds its source in the eternal present that is alone God’s limitless life. But it is experienced creaturely, temporally, as a series of successive moments that cannot be held onto and are perpetually passing from the future into the past. It is this argument that things are known according the nature of the knower is what allows Philosophy to conclude that temporal, creaturely events are necessary according to the divine mind, but are free and contingent according to the creaturely mind. There is a difference between divine knowledge, characterized as it is by eternality, and creaturely knowing, characterized by temporal succession. There is then both divine predestination of all things according to divine knowledge, and also contingency and freedom according to creaturely knowing.

In this context, in a concise statement of the Creator-creature distinction, Philosophy declares, “God should not be thought of as older than the created world but different in his grasp of time in the immediacy of his being” (5.VI). This is a particularly poignant statement of the Creator-creature distinction. Without it, Philosophy cannot bring Boethius “home” (5.I). It is necessary for understanding God’s good governance of the universe, the very thing Philosophy claims will restore Boethius’ happiness.
These two examples of Boethius’ deployment of a strong Creator-creature distinction—an argument for divine simplicity and an argument for divine eternality—are each a fundamental piece of the conceptual machinery of Consolation. Without a strong distinction between God and the world, the arguments simply do not work. God must be radically ontologically distinct from and other than creation. Otherwise, there can be no understanding of divine governance and, finally, no enduring happiness.

Boethius demonstrates that when happiness is tainted by fractured and fallen reality, there is consolation and hope to be found in turning to the One who is whole, complete, undivided, and perfect. Share on X

Consoled by Divine Alterity

If a strong Creator-creature distinction is necessary for Boethius’ consolation, might it also be necessary for the consolation of Christ-followers today? Boethius supplied to the Middle Ages and to us an important example of how understanding God as radically, ontologically other may be a source of comfort, happiness, and delight. To some, this may come as a startling and counterintuitive claim. It is, after all, an enduring temptation to confuse the Creator for a creature, to “exchange the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man” (Ro. 1:23). Such is the theological temptation to think of God as a creature, to imagine God as merely the superlative being at the top of the ontological ladder.

Boethius not only resists the temptation of idolatry but demonstrates the pastoral and personal advantages of thinking of God as radically distinct from creation. This is in contrast to what James Dolezal has labeled “theistic mutualism”, wherein God is understood to be immanently relatable to creatures as one who receives from and is conditioned by them. Indeed, popular today is the notion that God might be genuinely changed, affected, conditioned by the actions of creatures, and that this is a source of comfort—a kind of divine empathy that thinks what creatures think, feels what creatures feel, and responds like creatures do. It is marked by notions of transaction, reciprocity, and relational symmetry. And yet Boethius demonstrates a better route to consolation that he shares with the whole sweep of patristic and medieval theologians of the church.
Understanding God’s radical ontological alterity—how utterly other is the divine nature—has the potential to lift one’s mind and heart above the vicissitudes of creaturely life. An understanding of God as the source of all good, all love, all happiness, all blessedness—as the One who is all of those things—has the ability to orient even the most despairing mind toward God’s eternal blessedness in a way that participates in and experiences that blessedness. How?

Boethius demonstrates that when happiness is tainted by fractured and fallen reality, there is consolation and hope to be found in turning to the One who is whole, complete, undivided, and perfect. When God’s eternality is called to mind, remembering that God is not the subject of temporal succession but exists in a blessed, complete, perfect simultaneity can be a source of great comfort because it means God’s eternal blessedness is the telos of all things toward which creaturely time is directed. When the incomprehensibility of the divine life is called to mind, it has the ability to produce ecstatic joy and delight, just as it did for the Apostle Paul, who exclaimed, “For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor? Or who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever.”

Boethius teaches us about the consolation and joy to be found in that God—the One from whom and through whom and to whom are all things—the One who is radically ontologically other. Thus, it is on behalf of all who behold the God to whom Boethius rightly prays: “You are the sole serene goal in which we may rest, satisfied and tranquil, and to see your face is our only hunger, our only thirst, for you are our beginning, our journey, and our end” (3.IX).

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