Dominican Study By Sr Ann Catherine Swailes

I remember giving a talk recently on OP prayer and beginning by saying that I was slightly embarrassed, because, compared with some other orders, we Dominicans aren’t in particular known as expert pray-ers: depending on one’s taste and maybe temperament, one might more naturally look to the Carmelites or the Jesuits or the Benedictines for advice in this area. Today I’ve got almost the opposite problem, and it’s at least as embarrassing, because one thing everyone knows about Dominicans is that they study, and therefore Dominicans ought to be able to talk

eloquently on the subject at the drop of a hat. It tends to be, in my experience, one of the things that attracts many who explore the possibility of Dominican vocation; it certainly attracted me - but what does it mean to study ‘Domincanly’, in particular? Is there anything about Dominican study which is distinctive? One way of beginning to answer this question might be to return to the sources, to look at the very earliest Dominicans and see what they tell us about study. Not because we can, or should, just copy what they did, but because the beginnings of the Order, like the beginnings of any movement within the Church which has proved to be of God, is, as it were, fertile, containing a kind of genetic code. However it has changed and developed over the centuries in response to new circumstances and new challenges, in how Dominicans study today there ought to be, I think, a kind of family resemblance to how our forebears studied.

If we do look to these sources, we see at once that the connection between Dominicans and study is not in any sense accidental or arbitrary; it goes right to the heart of who we are, and right back to the moment of the Order’s conception. It’s worth spending a minute or two on that. Because St Thomas Aquinas, who was a second generation OP, being born around three years after St Dominic died, has had such a massive influence on the history of theology, people sometimes I think have difficulty seeing behind him, as it were, and wonder whether in fact Dominican study didn’t more or less begin with Thomas, or maybe with his teacher, St Albert the Great. Albert and Thomas are hugely important figures, and we’ll look at something of what they each have to tell us about distinctively OP study, but in fact of course they were both grafted into a young but well-rooted tradition when they entered the Order of Preachers: indeed, it seems that they, like the hundreds of young graduates who flocked to the order in its earliest days, were attracted to the Dominicans precisely because of this emphasis. And the tradition begins with St Dominic himself. What evidence do I have for saying this? Frustratingly, we have virtually nothing written by Dominic – a couple of letters – but we do have pictures of him, and, in one way or another, they all suggest the importance of study. We have literal pictures, and sculptures, and with great frequency he is depicted with an open book in his hand. And we have word-pictures, and character sketches. We know from accounts written by his contemporaries that on his frequent travels he always carried with him the gospel of St Matthew – it might be interesting to speculate about why this was his favourite – and the letters of St Paul. We know that he loved to pray with the scriptures, doing what we would call lectio divina, engaging in sacred study. We know that the tradition soon grew up in the Order and in the Church of associating him and his brethren above all with truth: the Order’s oldest and shortest motto is a one-word mission statement, Veritas, and one of Dominic’s most famous daughters, St Catherine of Siena, in her Dialogue hears God the Father saying that whilst the most characteristic attribute of St Francis of Assisi is poverty, that of Dominic is scientia, best translated not by the modern English science, but as learning, a much broader concept.

One final important element to underline about Dominic’s relationship to study, to make the picture complete, is that it was not for him a private passion, but something he desired for all his immediate followers, and indeed, something to be undertaken in communion with others. At the very beginning of the Order’s existence, Dominic attended, and ordered his brothers to attend, theology lectures in Toulouse, and, as the Order began to grow, he sent not individual friars, but small groups to the universities of Paris, Bologna, and, practically on his deathbed, to Oxford. Community life was, then, from the very beginning, inseparable from study, and that continues I think to be both a gift and a challenge to Dominicans today.

If we ask why there should be this emphasis on study, from the very outset, in Dominican life, the answer is in one sense obvious. Study is central to the life of Dominicans because Dominicans are preachers. As Humbert of Romans, who was Master of the Order between 1254 and 1263 puts it:

“Study is not the end of the Order, but it is an utmost necessity to that end, which is preaching and labouring for the salvation of souls, because without study, we can do neither”.

Now, clearly, if you are going to preach, you have to have something to say, and this is the most obvious reason that Dominic was so anxious, for instance, to send his friars to study theology in the early days of the Order. It seems that one of the causes of the not very appealing heresy of Albigensianism making such headway in the south of France and elsewhere was that the general level of catechesis amongst Catholics was so low. It is not true, as many of us were brought up to believe, that the Church in the Middle Ages deliberately prevented her children from coming into contact with the scriptures, but, given the level of literacy and the expense and rarity of books before the age of printing, it was obviously much harder for, say, an innkeeper in 13th century Toulouse to have access to the Bible than would be the case today. Mass goers would not have heard a sermon Sunday by Sunday either, since preaching in the liturgy was normally undertaken only by the bishops. Especially when all this was combined with the scandalous lifestyle of many of the Catholic clergy, it was relatively easy for the Albigensian preachers to win converts. On the one hand their doctrine of dualism, the idea that the physical universe was evil, the work of a lesser god, meant that they had a sophisticated story to tell about human nature and salvation, which made sense on its own terms, even if it was completely contrary to the biblical teaching of the goodness of God’s creation. And, on the other, they could pointedly stress that the luxury and idleness in which many Catholic priests and bishops seemed to spend their days didn’t really fit with the picture of the Son of Man who had nowhere on earth to lay his head that emerges from the gospels, whilst being conveniently hazy about other aspects of scriptural teaching which fitted less well with their own worldview, knowing that few in their audience would be likely to be able to embarrass them by pointing this out. So, to put it somewhat crudely, if the first Dominicans were going to beat the Albigensians at their own game, a thorough scriptural and theological education, as well as a commitment to poverty in imitation of the Poor Christ, was an essential tool of the trade. Now, clearly, in our own post-Christian context, this is still all true. We still need such scripturally and theologically educated people to witness to the joy of living as Jesus and his apostles lived.

But there are some slightly more subtle reasons, I think, why study is essential to the life of the preacher, and I’d like, again, in company with some of the first Dominicans, to spend a little time reflecting on these. This will also lead us, I hope, into an exploration of what it is, exactly, that preachers should study, and how.

In fact, let’s begin with that, with what and how preachers should study. Here are some texts from St Albert the Great, and I wonder whether first we might just pause and look at these and see if anything strikes us about them.

‘Evidence of this [transformation of animals into fossils] is that parts of aquatic animals and perhaps of naval gear are found in rock in hollows on mountains, which water no doubt deposited there enveloped in sticky mud, and which were prevented by coldness and dryness of the stone from petrifying completely. Very striking evidence of this kind is found in the stones of Paris, in which one very often meets round shells the shape of the moon.’ (De causis proprietarum elementarum)

‘The pirolus [squirrel] is an extremely lively little animal; it nests in the tops of trees, has a long bushy tail, and swings itself from tree to tree, in doing so using its tail as a rudder. When on the move it drags its tail behind it, but when sitting it carries it erect up its back. When taking food it holds it as do the other rodents in its hands, so to speak, and places it in its mouth. Its food consists of nuts and fruit and such-like things. Its flesh is sweet and palatable. In Germany its colour is black when young, and later reddish, in old age it is even partly grey. In Poland it is reddish grey and in parts of Russia quite grey.’ (De animalibus)

‘The aim of natural philosophy [science] is not to simply to accept the statements of others, but to investigate the causes that are at work in nature.’ (De miniralibius)

‘The whole world is theology for us, because the heavens proclaim the glory of God.’ (Commentary on St Matthew’s Gospel)

St Albert, probably best known to posterity as the teacher of St Thomas Aquinas, is a fascinating figure in his own right. He was born in what is now Germany in around 1200, and joined the Dominicans as a young man. He outlived St Thomas, dying in c1280, the end of his life being clouded by a condition, perhaps Alzheimer’s, that robbed him of his memory. Although, out of obedience he accepted the bishopric of Ratisbon in 1260 he resigned three years later, and throughout his long life, he was clearly happiest teaching. His interests were amazingly diverse. He wrote commentaries on all the known works of Aristotle, Biblical commentaries, works on spirituality, and, as here, what we would call science (and, within that, what we would call zoology, astronomy, geology, botany and physics). This scientific study was a novelty in the Order at the time (indeed a novelty in the Church) but – as I think the last of these quotations shows, one that was entirely of a piece with the reasons for the Order’s foundation, and of on-going significance. If all that God has made – and not just the realm of the spirit – is good, why should we not study it, and, in so doing, find ever greater motivation to praise God, and to tell of his wonderful works to others?

This brings us to what is perhaps most fascinating about distinctively Dominican study, which is the way in which it is connected with prayer and contemplation. As with most other “distinctively OP” things, incidentally, I think it’s important to say “distinctive” rather than “unique”: it’s certainly not that only Dominicans study in the way or for the reasons that they do. But St Thomas, at any rate is quite clear that there is a connection: that study can make prayer more profound: ‘If a man perfectly submits his learning and his other powers to God, his devotion, as a direct result, will be deepened.’(ST II ii qu 82/3)

St Thomas knows, of course, that there is a danger of intellectual pride, that the scholar can come to rely on his own resources instead of on God: ‘In knowledge, and in every other endowment which belongs to greatness, man finds occasion to trust in himself, rather than giving himself over completely to God. And so, in the case of those who are gifted or learned, it can happen that these things are the occasion of devotion being hindered.’(ST II ii qu 82/3)

But, as he makes quite clear on another occasion, when dealing with an attack on the Dominican involvement in university education by William of St Amour, Master of the University of Paris: if those who are devoted to study are also devoted to works of charity] “there would be little danger in learning. If we ought to avoid knowledge because it leads to pride, we ought, on the same ground, to desist from any kind of good work” (Contra impugnantes Dei)

In passing, I find the allusion here to the Rule of St Augustine rather touching: what comes to mind when this great intellectual heavyweight is called on to defend the practice of his own order is, precisely, a quotation from that order’s foundation document.

So it turns out that the study necessary for preaching is more than simply a kind of utilitarian quarrying of information. It is true that the preacher needs to study in order to give content to the preaching, and this should not be underestimated. The need for parish priests to study carefully in order to prepare the Sunday homily, for instance has recently been stressed by Pope Francis. But, if St Thomas is right, it is also that study deepens our prayer, so that we are able to preach out of a more profound place, a more intimate encounter with God. It is well known that Dominic insisted that his friars should study, that study should in some sense occupy the place in their lives that manual labour holds in the older monastic orders, and this is for a similar twofold reason. If the Benedictine monk, for instance, doesn’t work his farm, he and his community won’t eat: as we’ve seen, if the preacher doesn’t study, he and his community will have nothing to preach. So, in both cases there’s this kind of direct practical usefulness. But manual labour is also important because of the discipline it imposes, the curb it can place on one’s natural tendency to sloth and self-absorption, and so, too, with study. The discipline of study is in itself an aid to prayer and thus to preaching. And even our apparent failures in study can be put to good use in our preaching: the difficulty of study like the difficulty of manual labour, the sense of reaching the end of one’s resources that comes with hard work, intellectual as much as physical, can, if approached in the right spirit, actually make us more sensitive to the weakness and vulnerability of others, and then our preaching will inevitably take on a different, more humble quality. As St Thomas points out, it is much harder for those who are constantly successful to sympathise with the afflictions of our brothers and sisters: “it is always” he says, some want in us that moves us to mercy”.

There is plenty more that we could say about the role of study in the life of the preacher, but I would like to close with two quotations, again from very near the fountainhead of the Order’s history. They both come from Blessed Jordan of Saxony, Dominic’s immediate successor as Master. The first describes something of Dominic’s own study. The second is taken from a letter by Jordan to his great spiritual friend Blessed Diana D’Andalo. They seem to me to encapsulate in a very beautiful way just why it is that a preacher must be a person who studies: ‘Dominic’s eagerness to imbibe the streams of holy scripture was so intense and so unremitting that he spent whole nights almost without sleep so untiring was his desire to study. Since he accepted the Lord’s commandments so warmly, and since his love and piety fertilized whatever he learned, he was able to penetrate the mysteries of difficult theological questions with the humble understanding of his heart’.

‘What is written in the book of life is charity. You find it written in a strange beauty when you gaze at Jesus your Saviour stretched out like a sheet of parchment on the Cross, inscribed with wounds, illustrated in his own dearest blood. Turn this book over, open it, read it, you will find in it what the prophet found: lamentations, song and woe. Lamentations, because of the pains which he endured, a song of gladness, which he won for you by his pains; and the woe of unending death from which he redeemed you by his death. In his lamentation learn to have patience in yourself, learn love in his song of joy, because surely he has the first claim on your love, seeing that he wanted you to be a sharer in such great joys. And when you realize that you have been rescued from that woe, what else should result but thanksgiving and the sound of praise.’