to practice. Likewise, with the doctor of theology: no matter how skilled (peritus) he may be, if he cannot exercise his officium doctoris without imperiling his audience, then he should by no means be permitted to teach or to be a teacher of theology. It is necessary to have both the habitus of knowledge, as explained above, and a good reputation ( fama bone vitae). Therefore, in the doctor who de iure and ex officio can and ought to teach this science, two things are required: knowledge (scientia) by dint of which he can teach, and a life by dint of which he can teach wholesomely.
Henry proceeds to develop this argument by enlisting the aid of the Aristotelian theory of causality and instrumentality. A doctor of sacred Scripture is, as it were, an instrument and organ (instrumentum et organum) of the word of God,30 inasmuch as he teaches the faithful with regard to their spiritual health or profit(utilitas). Hence the Gloss on Matthew 3:3 (“a voice crying in the wilderness . . . ”) identifies John the Baptist as the voice and Christ as the Word which cries in John.31 For just as with an instrument or organ, the formal disposition and its own constituent material is determined by its objective or end (finis) and the material in respect of which it functions. At this point Henry draws on the second book of the Physics, where Aristotle had explained that certain things are required in order that a given product can come into being, but the product comes into being on account of some end, and not on account of those requirements.32 Aristotle had used the example of a saw, which is designed to carry out something and for the sake of something; this end, however, cannot be achieved unless it is made of the right stuff. If we are to have a saw and perform the operation of sawing, it must be made of iron. As Averroes puts it, the action of sawing cannot be achieved except on account of the form and material of the saw.33 Thus, to return to Henry, the end determines the material, the end being impossible to attain without the necessary material. Henry gives an elaborate version of the “saw” example and makes his own application of the underlying doctrine. In order that a saw can cut straight through tough wood, it must be made of strong and firm metal and it must have teeth: that is to say, the material out of which the tool is made (strong metal) and its formal disposition, pattern, or shape (its teeth) are determined by its end or objective (cutting the wood) and the material on which it works (the hard wood). The material with which the teacher of holy Scripture has to work are the faithful whom he must instruct; the end toward which he works is their own (spiritual) health or profit and that of others through instruction; the material employed in this work is his knowledge; the formal disposition necessary in himself in order that he might realize his objective is a holy life—he himself must first do the things which he teaches others to do.
Any unlearned man who usurps the office of teaching and does not announce Christ with sincerity deserves utter damnation, Henry continues. The saw, if it is made of soft metal, cannot divide the wood. Likewise, an individual who is learned but unjust in his behavior may be able to instruct the faithful, but is quite unable to “enform” or shape them in holy life or to maintain them therein. As Chrysostom says on Matthew 5:13 (“you are the salt of the earth”), the doctor should be adorned with all the virtues, so that he is able to prompt the lazy and sluggish to perform good works, by his example rather than by mere words.34 The good manner of life of a priest may, irrespective of words, maintain the holy in sanctity by its example, but without words he cannot lead the ignorant to knowledge of the truth. On the other hand, words, without the example of good behavior, can lead a certain ignorant person to the knowledge of truth, but without the example of good behavior such a one could not remain in faith or holiness. A priest whose life does not match his words is a source of scandal. Even though he may perhaps lead the good to the knowledge of truth, he will tend rather to keep bad people away from the truth. As St. Gregory says, the magisterium of pastor is confounded when one thing is done and another is taught; consequently, when someone’s life is despised it follows that his preaching will be condemned.35 To which Henry appends that Aristotelian saw. Just as, if a saw is without teeth it cannot directly attain its end in cutting, so no doctor who is not “enformed” by familiarity with holiness can wholesomely teach others. It must be said, therefore, that the proper teacher of this science must not only be competent to teach the truth but also be good and just, so that he should enact the same. Acts 1:1 tells how “Jesus began to do and to teach,” which the Gloss explains as meaning that the good teacher should first do and then teach, in that order, so that his word is not destroyed by his work.36 On this argument, then, the sinner or unjust man cannot be a doctor of holy Scripture.
However, there are degrees of prohibition, it would seem, some errant teachers being more relevantly sinful than others. For Henry distinguishes between different types of evil and the corresponding types of deviant doctor. Either such a person believes what is contrary to true doctrine, as the heretic does, or he acts against true doctrine, like the man who sins in his behavior. Someone who is a sinner in the first sense cannot teach at all, nor be a doctor of this science, for he is excommunicate and he will corrupt his audience. In the second sense, the sinner is one of the faithful and has sound doctrine, but does not lead a good life.
A further contrast is then posited, between public sin and private sin. Is the deviant teacher’s sin hidden, the man himself being of good reputation? Or is it manifest, the man being infamous on account of his evil life? If it is hidden, the sinner may be teaching to flatter and please, or out of vainglory; here we are dealing with sins perpetrated in the very act of teaching (ex ipso actu docendi).37 Alternatively, he may be a sinner on account of another kind of act (ex actu alio), for example because he is covetous, lustful, or the like. In the first case, we are dealing with sins perpetrated in the very act of teaching. The man who is steeped in those sins should not teach of his own volition, but rather should hold back. Yet it is undeniable that the Gospel should be proclaimed. Philippians 1:18 declares that “by all means,” whether in pretense or in truth, Christ should be preached. This, explains the Gloss, describes the various types of doctor who preach of Christ but not in the same way.38 Henry identifies three types: the good pastor, the mercenary, and the rogue. The good pastor proclaims the truth (of Christ) in truth, the mercenary occasionally proclaims the truth, while the thief and rogue denies the truth and makes away with it. The good pastor is to be valued highly, the mercenary tolerated, and the rogue is to be treated with suspicion. A mercenary is said to be someone who preaches for gain. The heretic who preaches falsehood is rightly called a thief. The (good) pastor, however, is the man who preaches what is true and in accord with God.
Henry then proceeds to make his own view crystal clear. Some treat the mercenary just as if he were a heretic. Their argument is that the mercenary preacher who sins in his behavior, even though this is not done publicly, nevertheless acts contrary to what he teaches, and therefore sins by so doing. Consequently he should not teach, because no-one should do what he himself condemns. But this, Henry declares, is not reasonable. For if a sinner who is living in sin can, by good actions which fall inside the parameters of goodness (de genera bonorum), put himself in the position whereby he could receive gratia de congruo, it would not be right to say that he sins by so doing. Moreover, he may do other things de genera bonorum which are of benefit to others. That is to say, by helping others he might help himself spiritually.
How, then, should we regard the teacher whose sin is secret, if the sin may be judged a matter of personal morality rather than falling within the very act of preaching itself? (Assuming, of course, that such a person does not teach anything against Christian truth—in contrast to the heretic— and is therefore not excommunicate.) Henry’s answer is that, although he secretly fails to practice what he teaches, this type of teacher is useful to others, and because he may make personal spiritual progress by so doing (as with other works of mercy performed in this life), it is perfectly lawful for him to teach, and for him to be a doctor of theology. And what of the teacher whose wicked life is manifest and infamous? He should not, insofar as it lies within his own power (quantum est ex parte sui), teach at all, because by so doing he will scandalize his audience. However, on account of the faithful (but not on his own account) he may be heard, providing that he has sound doctrine and is permitted
