The Divine Lamp

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The Presence of God in All Creatures as Their 
Active Principle or Efficient Cause 

Before broaching the interesting yet difficult question 
of the indwelling of the Holy Ghost in the souls of 
the just, and of the mysterious union He thus effects 
with them; before going into the proofs of the presence 
both substantial and extraordinary of the three Divine 
persons in the just soul which thus becomes a living 
temple wherein the adorable Trinity finds delight, it 
will be useful, and, to a certain extent, even necessary, 
to grasp a few preliminary notions on the ordinary 
way in which God is present in all things. Nothing, indeed,
could be more unreasonable than to expound the 
doctrine of the extraordinary or special presence of God 
in the souls of the just, before we know quite clearly 
what is His ordinary presence in all creation. 

To be in a fit position to speak in precise terms of 
these two kinds of presence, and to distinguish one
from the other, we must first of all become acquainted 
with their respective characteristics, and see in what 
they agree and in what they differ. This may be 
achieved by carefully examining, defining and comparing
their natures. Were we to follow a different course 
of action, plunging at once into a more or less scientific 
explanation of the indwelling of God in the soul by the 
life of grace, without having, at the outset, firmly established
and clearly explained that such an indwelling is 
to be found nowhere else in nature, we should be in 
danger of imparting very incomplete notions, and of 
leaving the reader in a state of vagueness that could not 
but be regrettable. On the other hand, it will not be 
necessary to dwell at length on the proofs for the divine 
omnipresence, since all Catholics believe in it; we shall, 
however, insist on the way in which it is to be understood
in order to convey an exact idea of God's immensity,
and so to prepare the way for a clear understanding
of the special presence of God in the souls of the just. 

It is a dogma of faith, as well as a truth of reason, 
that God is everywhere — in heaven, on earth, in all 
things and in all places: that He is present in a very 
intimate manner in everything created. This truth is 
known to all, not only to the philosopher and theologian, 
but even to the little child whose intelligence is 
but awakening; it is one of the first lessons it receives 
at its mother's knee — one of the first truths it learns 
from any Christian teacher. 

This doctrine, which the simplest Christian holds at 
the beginning of his moral life, and which he continues 
to hold without always understanding its full bearing, 
nor suspecting what deep truths it expresses, was
preached long ago by the Apostle St. Paul, before the 
most illustrious audience in the world. He was addressing,
not an ignorant populace, but the official representatives
of human wisdom, the members of the Areopagus of Athens,
when, referring to the existence of God in every creature,
the Apostle exclaimed : "That they should seek God, if
haply they may feel after Him or find Him, although
He be not far from every one of us; for in Him we live,
and move, and are."  

Centuries before, the Psalmist had made this same 
divine omnipresence the theme of his song: "Behold, 
Lord, Thou hast known all things, the latest and 
those of old; Thou hast formed me, and hast laid Thy 
hand upon me. Thy knowledge has become wonderful 
to me; it is high, and I cannot reach to it. Whither 
shall I go from Thy spirit? or whither shall I fly from 
Thy face? If I ascend into heaven. Thou art there; if 
I descend into hell, Thou art present. If I take my 
wings early in the morning, and dwell in the uttermost 
parts of the sea, even there also shall Thy hand lead 
me, and Thy right hand shall hold me."  

Finally, in order fully to convince us that we cannot 
escape His ever-vigilant eye, God Himself, using our 
weak human language, with infinite condescension, says 
to us through the mouth of His prophet : "Shall a man 
be hid in secret places, and I not see him, saith the 
Lord? Do not I fill heaven and earth, saith the Lord?"  

It is not necessary to cite other testimonies in proof 
of a point of doctrine admitted by all who believe in the 
existence of an infinite Being, the Author of all things; 
yet, on account of its extreme importance, we should 
like to set down here the philosophical proof of the 
omnipresence of God, given by St. Thomas. God, he 
says, "is present in all things, not as part of their essence,
or as an accidental element, but as the active
principle is present to the thing on which it acts;
for it is essential that the efficient cause be united with 
the object upon which it exercises an immediate activity, 
and that it comes into contact with this object, if 
not bodily, then, at least, by the exercise of its power 
and energies." 

We may compare God's action with that of the sun. 
Although vastly distant from our planet, it still comes 
into contact with it through its rays, else how could it 
give light and heat to the earth? But God works in 
every created thing, not only through the medium of 
secondary causes as the sun acts upon the earth, but also 
in a direct and immediate way, by Himself bringing into 
existence and preserving in things that which is most 
intimate and deep-rooted in them, namely, their very 
being. For, as the characteristic effect of fire is to burn, 
so the characteristic effect of God, Who is Being itself, 
is to cause the being of creatures. "And so God is intimately 
present to all things as their efficient cause — as 
causing the being of all things."  

God, then, is not present to the world like the artisan 
or the artist; he is external to his work, and does not 
often touch it in a direct way, but rather through his 
instruments, or is present to his work when he produces it, 
but later on withdraws from it without endangering its existence. 
God is so intimately united to the works of His hands that if,
after calling a created thing into being. He should withdraw from it and cease 
to sustain it, it would immediately fall into the nothingness out of which it was made. 

And if you question the Angelic Doctor as to how 
God, an immaterial, unextended and indivisible substance,
can be present in all places, and in the inner 
depths of beings occupying material space, he will answer 
you with a comparison borrowed from nature and 
already employed by the Fathers, namely: He is present
in three ways: "By His power, by His presence, and by 
His essence. By His power, because all things are subject to 
His sovereign command: He is present everywhere 
like a king who, while residing in his palace, is 
by a fiction deemed present in all the parts of his kingdom 
where he exercises authority. By His presence, 
that is to say most intimately, because He knows all 
things and sees all things; and nothing, however hidden 
it may be, can escape His attention; all things are present 
to Him as objects are said to be in our presence, although
they may be situated at a slight distance from 
our person. Finally by His essence, for He is as really 
and in His very substance present to all created things 
as a monarch is present in person to the throne on 
which he is seated." 

The reason for this substantial presence of God in 
His creatures is that not one of them could dispense 
with the divine action preserving its existence and actuating
its operations; and since substance and action are 
not really distinct in God, it follows that "He is substantially — in His
actual reality — present wherever He 
works, I. e., in all things and in all places." 

In his commentary on Peter Lombard's first book of 
Sentences, St. Thomas explains this threefold presence 
in slightly different words. Not that it excludes the 
explanation we have just given, nor that it is in contradiction with it, 
but it brings out better the thought of 
the Angelic Doctor relative to the substantial presence 
of God in His capacity of efficient cause. Here are his 
words: "God is in created things by His presence, inasmuch
as He is there in action, for the worker must in 
some manner be present with his work; and, furthermore, 
because the Divine operation cannot be separated 
from the active force from which it flows, it must be 
held that God is present in all things by His power; 
finally, since the force or the power of God is identical 
with His essence, it follows that God is in all things by 
His essence." » These words are highly significant.
There are some theologians who explain the divine 
omnipresence by saying that God is present everywhere 
by His essence, because the divine substance, being 
infinite, fills the heavens and the earth. To them, the 
immensity of God is a property by which the divine 
essence is, so to speak, distributed ad infinitum in all 
existing and possible spaces; that is to say, God's omni- 
presence is the actual diffusion of the divine being, penetrating
all real things and places without blending with 
them. According to this opinion, the divine immensity 
might be compared to a sea without shores, capable of 
containing an infinite number of beings of every nature 
and dimension. Within this sea is a sponge which the 
waters interpenetrate and then flow over on all sides: a 
figure of this world, that God's immensity pervades and 
then flows over on all sides; with this difference, however, 
that God is wholly in the world and wholly in each 
of its parts, whereas each portion of the water of the sea 
occupies a distinct place. 

St. Augustine conceived a similar picture of the divine 
immensity in his early days before his conversion: "So 
also I thought of Thee, O God, O Life of my life," he 
says in his Confessions, "so also I thought of Thee, as 
stretched out through infinite spaces, interpenetrating 
the whole mass of the world, reaching out beyond in all 
directions to immensity without end, so that sea, sky, 
all things are full of Thee, limited in Thee, while Thou 
art not limited at all. As the body of the air above the 
earth does not bar the passage of the light of the sun,
but the light penetrates the air, not bursting or dividing 
it, but filling it — in the same way, I thought, the body of 
heaven, and air, and sea, and even of earth was all 
pervious to Thee, penetrable in all its parts great or 
small, so that it can admit the hidden interjection of 
Thy presence, which from within or from without 
orders all things that Thou hast created. This was my 
fancy, for I could shape no other; yet it was false. For 
in that way a greater part of the earth would contain a 
greater part of Thee, a less part a less. All things would 
be full of Thee in such a sense that there would be more 
of thee in the elephant than in the sparrow, inasmuch 
as one is larger than the other, and fills a wider space. 
And thus Thou wouldst unite Thy limbs piecemeal with 
the limbs of the world, the great with the great, the 
small with the small. This is not Thy nature, but as 
yet Thou hadst not lightened my darkness."  

Further on, speaking on the same subject, he adds: 
"I marshaled before the sight of my spirit all creation, 
all that we see, earth, and sea, and air, and stars, and 
trees, and animals; all that we do not see, the firmament 
of the sky above, and all angels, and all spiritual things; 
for these also, as if they were bodies, did my imagination 
arrange in this place or in that. I pictured to myself 
Thy creation as one vast mass, composed of various 
kinds of bodies, some real bodies, some those which I 
imagined in place of spirits. I pictured this mass as 
vast, not indeed in its true dimensions, for these I could 
not know, but as large as I chose to think, only finite on 
every side. And Thee, O Lord, I conceived as lapping it 
round and interpenetrating it everywhere, but as being 
infinite in every direction; as if there were sea everywhere, 
and everywhere through measureless space nothing 
but illimitable sea, and within this a sponge, huge, 
but yet finite; the sponge would be pervaded through all
its particles by the infinite sea. In this way, I pictured 
Thy finite creation, as filled with Thy infinity." 

After his conversion and accession to the episcopal 
see of Hippo, Augustine's language is entirely different: 
"When we say that God is everywhere we must withdraw 
from our mind every grossness of thought, and 
disengage ourselves from sensible images, lest we should 
imagine God as diffused everywhere, like some greatness 
spreading itself in space, as does the earth, the sea, 
the air or light; for all such things are less in one of 
their parts than in the whole; but we rather should 
conceive God's greatness as we think of great wisdom 
in a man who happens to be of small stature." 

The notion of the diffusion and expansion of God's 
being, was entirely disapproved by St. Augustine, and 
dealt with by him as a carnal conception to be rejected. 
The advocates of such a theory do not, it is true, fall 
into Augustine's error whilst he was a Manichean, of 
supposing that a greater part of the earth can contain 
a greater part of the divine substance; for they know 
and teach that a pure spirit being indivisible and without 
parts does not occupy space like earthly bodies, but 
can be wholly in the whole being and wholly in each and 
every part of that being. They do, however, seem to 
share the ideas of Augustine's pre-conversion days, but 
which he reformed later, in the general trend of their 
argument and in the manner in which they conceive of 
the divine ubiquity. 

Far more spiritual, and therefore much more in accordance
with the divine nature, is the notion of God's 
immensity given by St. Thomas. Instead of admitting, 
with the advocates of the theory we are now refuting, a 
kind of diffusion of the divine substance, so that God 
would still he in His most real substance present to 
created things scattered through space, even though by 
an impossibility His action exercised no influence upon 
them, the Angelic Doctor teaches that the formal reason 
of God's presence in all created things is none other than 
His infinite activity and operation, just as the reason of 
His immensity is His omnipotence. 

The Divine substance occupies no determined space, 
either great or small; it does not need space to display 
itself, and enters into no relation of proximity or remoteness 
with beings that exist in space. If we speak 
of a relation of the Divine substance with these beings, 
we mean only a relation of power and operation; i. e., 
God is intimately present to all things because He produces 
and preserves the being of all things: "God is not 
determined to space great or small by the necessity of 
His essence, as if He need be present in any place, since 
He is from all eternity before all place; but by the im- 
mensity of His power He reaches into all things which 
are in place, because He is the universal cause of being, 
Thus He is wholly wheresoever He is, because by His 
simple power He reaches into all things." If then God 
is present in all places and in all creatures, it is because 
no actual space and no created being can escape His 
direct and immediate influence, for His power, and consequently
His substance, reaches out to them all. 
Theologians, as we have seen, often explain God's omnipresence 
by saying that He is present everywhere because of His immensity. 
St. Thomas uses a different term. According to him, 
God is present everywhere in the capacity of efficient cause,
per modum causae. Such an expression is profound and full of meaning,
for it banishes from the mind any idea of a diffusion or expansion
of the Divine substance, at the same time marking out the Divine operation
as the basis of the relations existing between God and His creatures.
Yet the expression was not a new one, and St. Thomas is not giving 
a purely personal opinion; here as ever he shows himself to be the
faithful echo of tradition. 

And, as we have already noticed, St. Augustine declared 
that God was in the world as the efficient cause 
of the world, "as the presence of the One by Whom the 
world was created; as the artisan is present to the work 
he handles." If, therefore, God fills the heavens and 
the earth, it is by the presence and exercise of His power 
and not by the necessity of His nature," for God's 
greatness is one of power and not of bulk. St. 
Thomas seems manifestly to have taken his inspiration 
from these different passages. 

St. Fulgentius, a disciple of St. Augustine, speaks in 
much the same terms as his master. Likewise, St. 
Gregory of Nyssa. 

That the basis for the presence of God by very substance 
in all created things is the divine activity, can be 
clearly seen from all these passages, and from many 
others we could easily adduce. An earthly body is 
present in the place it occupies neither by its action nor 
even directly by its substance, but by its dimensions, by 
the contact of its parts with the parts of the body surrounding 
and containing it; since, therefore, it is quantity 
that gives parts and dimensions to a body and enables 
it to come into contact with another body and to 
occupy a determined part of space, such or such a body 
is, properly speaking, present in space by its quantity:
per quantitatem dimensivam. 

Far different is the way in which a spirit is present 
in space. As it is a simple, that is to say, an indivisible 
substance and without parts, it cannot of itself occupy 
any space, either great or small, and does not need space 
to display itself. If, however, a spirit wishes to enter 
into relation with a place or with the things present in 
that place, it can do so by the exercise of its activities 
and its energies. Hence the proposition, looked upon as 
an axiom by all Scholastics : spirits are present in space 
by contact of power — per contactum virtutis. 

What, therefore, quantity is to bodies — i. e., a property 
distinct from their substance and extending it 
through space — active power is to spirits, which it 
places in contact with space and the things situated in 
space.2 

This is why St. Thomas, when asking the question 
whether ubiquity is a property becoming God from all 
eternity, utrum esse ubique conveniat Deo ab aeterno, 
instead of answering, like some theologians, that God 
is not, of course, present from all eternity to things 
which did not as yet exist, but that His substance is, 
nevertheless, really and eternally present in the spaces 
which the different created beings are to occupy in time, 
answers "that the Divinity is present only temporarily 
in created things according as by His creative act He is 
present by His power during their temporary existence." 

And if you question the Fathers as to where God was 
before the creation of the world, instead of answering 
that He was in these incommensurable spaces occupied 
by the present universe, spaces which thousands of
other worlds far greater than ours could not fill, they 
will answer you differently, saying through the mouth 
of St. Bernard: "We need not trouble to ask where He 
was, for besides Him nothing existed, and He was then 
in Himself alone."  

Hence, to summarize, in the mind of St. Thomas and 
the Fathers of the Church, the basic reason, the true 
ground, the definitive "why" of the presence of God in 
creatures is the divine operation, formally immanent, 
since it neither issues forth from, nor is even distinct 
from, the principle whence it emanates, yet producing 
outward created effects and, therefore, called "virtually 
transitive," virtualiter transiens.~excerpted from THE INDWELLING
OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN THE SOULS OF THE JUST ACCORDING TO THE TEACHING OF ST THOMAS AQUINAS.

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9.  The Immortality of the Soul.  Existence of God.

Such is our solution of the question of the origin of ideas. For all ideas, whether specific or generic, are nothing but the idea of being or existence, as determined in various ways by the sensations and operations of the human spirit. And since this one primitive idea can not be the product of these operations, since it is itself and indispensible condition of them all, we must admit that it is given to men by nature; so that we know what being is without having any need of learning it, and we learn all other things by means of this primitive cognition.

We can not with reason ask for a definition of being, because it is known in and by itself, and enters into the definition of all other things. We can indeed describe it, and analyze its characteristics, but we can do nothing more.

We have seen that this idea contains the pure essence of the thing. The idea of being, therefore, contains and enables us to know the essence of being.

The essence has nothing to do with space; ideal being, therefore, is incorporeal. But this ideal being is the form of the intelligent soul, and by the simple intuition of this idea the intelligent soul subsists. Therefore the intelligent soul is incorporeal, and therefore spiritual, therefore again both incorruptible and immortal.

The essence of being has also nothing to do with time, because being in its essence is always being, and can never cease to be, since it would be a contradiction in terms for being to cease to be being. Therefore it is eternal. But it was united to the soul in time. Therefore it was before the soul existed and is independent of it. But being is the light of intelligence, and the light of intelligence is conditioned on the existence of that which it is the light. Therefore there exists and intelligence anterior to human intelligence, an eternal mind. But this eternal mind is God’s, therefore God exists.

The existence of God and the immortality of the soul are the two foundations of morals. For God is the end to which the immortal soul ought to tend, and this duty comprehends the whole summary of man’s moral obligations, so that the abstract investigation of the origin of ideas becomes of the gravest import to the destinies of man.

8.  Origin of the One Indeterminate Idea-The idea of Being or Existence.

It remains still to explain whence comes the idea of being, the sole indeterminate idea. If we once admit that this idea is given to the human spirit, there is no difficulty as to the origin of the other ideas, because, as we have seen, these are nothing else but the same idea of being invested with determinations by the human spirit, on occasion of the sensations, and of whatever feelings man experiences.

Now in order to solve the problem s to the origin in our mind of the idea of being we must first of all consider certain corallories which follow from what we have explained above.

1^st. The idea of being in general precedes all other ideas. In fact, all other ideas are only the idea of being determined in one way or another, and to determine a thing supposes that we already possess the thing to be determined.

2^nd. This idea cannot come from our sensation or from our feelings, not only because the sensations are real, particular and contingent (whereas this idea furnishes the mind with the knowledge of possible being, universal and necessary in its possibility), but also because the sensations and the feelings do not furnish to the spirit any thing except determinations of the idea of being y which it is limited and restricted.

3^rd. It cannot come from the operations of the human spirit, such as universalization and abstraction; because these operations do no more than either add determinations to this same idea of being, or take them away when they have been added, and this on occasion of the sensations or feelings experienced.

4^th. The operations of the human intelligence are only possible, if we presuppose the idea of being, which is the means, the instrument, employed by it to perform them, nay, the very condition of its existence.

5^th. It follows that without the idea of being the human spirit could not only make no rational operation, but would be altogether destitute of the faculty of thought and understanding, in other words it would not be intelligence.

6yh. If the human spirit were deprived of the idea of being it would be deprived also of intelligence; it follows that it is this idea which constitutes it intelligent. We may therefore say that it is this same idea which constitutes the light of reason, and we thus discover what that light of reason is which has been admitted by all men, but defined by on one.

7^th. And since philosophers give the name of form to that which constitutes a thing what it is, the idea of being in general may be rightly termed the form of the human reason or intelligence.

8^th. For the same reason this idea may justly be called the first or parent idea, the idea in se and the light of the intelligence.

It is the first idea because anterior to all other ideas; the parent idea because it generates all others, by associating itself with the sensations and feelings by means of the operations of the human spirit. We call it the idea in se, because the feelings and sensations are not ideas, and our spirit is obliged to add them as so many determinations to that first idea, in order to obtain the determinate ideas.

Lastly, we call it the light of the intelligence, because it is cognizable by itself; whereas the sensations and feelings are cognizable by means of it, by becoming determinations, and, as such, being rendered cognizable to the human spirit.

If these facts are attentively considered, the great problem of the origin of ideas and of all human cognitions become easy of solution.

But in fact this problem has been solved long ago by the common sense of mankind. For the existence in the human spirit of a light of reason or intelligence is admitted by the common sense of men, which declares this light of reason to be so natural and proper to man that it constitutes the difference between him and the brutes.

Now since we have shown that this light of reason is nothing else but the idea of being in general, it follows according to the testimony of the same common sense that this idea is natural to man or proper to his nature, and therefore it is not an idea which is formed or acquired but innate, or inserted in man by nature, and presented to the spirit by the Creator Himself, by Whom man was formed.

In fact, being must be known of itself, or otherwise there is nothing else which could make it known; but on the contrary every other thing is known only by means of it, for since every thing else is some mode or determination of being, if we know not what being itself is, we can know nothing.

7.  Formation of Determinate Ideas.

As regards the determination of the ideas of being (Which is itself the indeterminate ide), we shall easily discover their origin by the following considerations.

Let us suppose that man is possessed of the idea of being, that is to say, that he knows what being or existence is, we see at once how the idea may be exchanged for the sensation. Because when we experience sensations we may say to ourselves, this is a being limited and determined by the sensation.

Because when we experience sensations we may say to ourselves, this is a being limited and determined by sensation. For example, when I see a star I may say mentally, this is a luminous being, and the like.

The senasations, therefore, furnish me with the first determinations of being, so that when I think of a luminous being acting upon my organ of sight, I no longer think of indeterminate being only, but of a being with the determination of luminosity of a certain degree of luminous intensity, of a determinate shape and size, ect. All these qualities make the idea determinate, and are all furnished by the senses. But it does not follow that these determinations of the idea are sensations themselves. This we shall see if we distinguish the different operations which take place in the formation of these perceptions.

In fact, when on beholding a star we say to ourselves, this is a luminous being, we pronounce an affirmation or judgment. We have already shown the distinction between cognitions by affirmation and simple ideas. But we have said also that the first of these depend on the latter, so that we can not affirm the subsistence of an object, unless we first have the idea of it. Therefore, in the judgment by which we affirm the star as present before our eyes, and which we term perception of the star, the idea of it is already contained. We have then to perform another mental operation by isolating the idea from all the other elements of the perception. This operation is termed universalization, and it is thus performed:

When I perceive the star, my thought is bound up with a particular and sensible object. But I can free it from this by abstracting entirely from the thought of the actual subsistence of the star, retaining the image of it in my mind, and considering it as a possible star, as type and exemplar of all such stars, indefinite as to their number, which might be realized by creative power. Now the possible star is a pure determinate idea.

This determinate is no longer the sensation; for this is real not possible, yet it is true that the sensation was the occasion of my discovering it. It was discovered by my intelligence, by considering as possible that which my sensation gave me as real. And this my intelligence was well able to do, if we suppose it to know what possible being is. But the possible star is universal, that is to say it may be realized an indefinite number of times, and this operation of our intelligence is, therefore, termed universalization.

By universalization, therefore, we form the ideas which are completely determined; by abstraction we form those which are determined only to a certain extent, but are otherwise undetermined. Thus, supposing that, besides abstracting from the subsistence of the star, I abstract also from its isze and form, its degree of luminosity, and other accidents, which remain before my mind? I have still the idea of star, but this idea is abstract or generic, equally applicable to a star of the first, second, or third magnitude. This idea, then, is partly determinate, because the idea of the star could not be confounded with the idea of anything else; but it is also in part indeterminate, because it does not apply more to one star than to another.

If then the human mind is possessed of the idea of possible being, there is no difficulty in finding how it gets the determinations which, as it were, clothe, limit, and transform it into all the other ideas. These determinations are occasioned and materially furnished by the sensations, and afterwards formed into ideas by means of the twofold operations above described-namely, universalization and abstraction.

This is the eighth installment of a series of posts from a booklet ROSMINI: A BRIEF CRITIQUE OF SOME PHILOSOPHERS AND A SKETCH OF HIS OWN SYSTEM

4.  The Ideas Exist In God From All Eternity

It was the consideration of these sublime characteristics of the ideas that led Plato and after him St Augustine and St Thomas to conclude that the ideas reside in God as their source and principle.

From this opinion Malebranche deduced his system that man, as well as every other finite intelligence, sees all that he does see in God.  This system that man, as well as every other finite intelligence, sees all that he does see in God.  This system was afterwards defended from the imputations against its theological orthodoxy by Cardinal Gerdil.

We do not entirely accept this system, for reasons too long to enter upon here, but we recognise in it a foundation of truth, and we say in general that the differences between our system and that of Malebranche lies not in fundamentals but in details.

5.  Important Distinction Of Ideas In God And In Man.

We are very particular in distinguishing the ideas as they are in God and as seen by our intelligence.  The ideas are in God in a different mode from that in which they are displayed to our mind.  The ideas in God have a mode of existence which differs in nothing from that of God Himself, and this is the mode of the Divine Word; Who is with God without any real distinction in Himself, and is God Himself.  This is not the case with the ideas as exhibited to our mind.

In our mind the ideas are many and do not constitute by themselves the word of man, because the word is the expression of a judgment or affirmation or pronouncement, which has its term always in a reality, whereas the ideas only cause us to know the possibility of a reality.  Hence the ideas are limited by the human mind which receives them in such a way that they can not receive the appellation of God or the Divine Word, because God is the Real absolute Being Who subsists necessarily; whereas the ideas are only possibles, that is possible real beings of which we have the intuition.  And yet the ideas retain certain divine characteristics, such as we have stated above, so that we may with propriety term them appurtenances of God.

Hence, speaking generally, we may say that the origin of the ideas come from God, Who causes them to shine before the human mind; nor can they come to man from the external things, because finite beings possess none of those sublime characteristics, and nothing can impart what it does not possess.

6.  Classification of the Ideas.  The One Indeterminate Idea and the Determinate Ideas-concrete and Abstract Ideas.

We may now advance a step further towards discovering the origin of human ideas, explaining their multiplicity, and showing how they concur in the production of that class of cognitions which are termed cognitions by persuasion.

We will begin by classifying the ideas according to the order of subordination in which they stand to one another.  We find, therefore, that there is one idea, which is the only indeterminate and wholly universal idea, and this is the idea of being or existence.  All the other ideas are more or less determinate, and give us the knowledge of possible beings within a more restricted area.

Now, between the indeterminate idea of being or existence and all the other ideas, there exists this relation, that all the other ideas contain the indeterminate idea of being, to which different determinations are super-added.  Take, for instance, the ideas of stone, tree, animal, man.

How do I get the idea of stone?  It is a being, but not any kind of being, but one which has the determination of stone.

How do I get the idea of tree? it is a being with the determination of tree.

How do I get the idea of animal?  Again, it is a being which has the determination of animal.

How do I get the idea of man?  Still we have a being with the determination proper to man.

We find, therefore, that being enters into all our ideas, and every determinate idea is nothing but this same idea of being, invested with and limited by certain determinations.  All the ideas, therefore, have the same basis, one common element, which is ideal or possible being.

These determinations of the idea of being may be more or less complete, that is to say, they may determine being entirely, or determine it only on one side, leaving the other sides undetermined.

Thus, for example, I may form the idea of a book of a certain size and shape, printed in a certain type, and in fact furnished with all the other accidental determinations of a given book.  This is the determinate idea of a book, and nevertheless this idea is still general, because it is a pure idea, not a real book; it is a type or exemplar which I have before my mind, and according to this type I might form an indefinite number of real books all precisely alike.  On the other hand, I may have the idea of a book to a certain extent indeterminate, as when I think of a book with all that constitutes its essence, prescinding from the accidents of size, shape, type, ect.  Now when the ideas are all fully or perfectly determined we call them concrete ideas; when they remain to a certain extent indeterminate we call abstract.  But if  from the idea of book I take away all its determinations, as well accidental as essential, the idea of book vanishes from my mind, and nothing remains bu the idea of indeterminate being.

Thus the ideas take as it were the form of a pyramid.  The first course in the structure is formed of the concrete and wholly determinate ideas, and these are necessarily the most numerous.  The other courses consist of of the less determinate ideas, which diminish in proportion as we divest them of their determinations.  The apex of the pyramid consists of the idea of being which alone is without determinations.

If then we wish to give a satisfactory explanation of the origin of ideas we must account for two things,-first, the indeterminate idea; and second, its determinations.

One of the soldiers with a spear opened his side, and immediately there came out blood and water-John 19:34

1. The gospel deliberately says opened and not wounded, because through Our Lord’s side there was opened to us the gate of eternal life.  After these things I looked, and behold a gate was opened in heaven (Rev 4:1).  This is the door opened in the ark, through which enter the animals who will not perish in the flood.

2. But this door is the cause of our salvation.  Immediately there came forth blood and water, a thing truly miraculous, that, from a dead body, in which the blood congeals, blood should come forth.

This was done to show that by the Passion of Christ we receive a full absolution, an absolution from every sin and every stain.  We receive this absolution from sin through that blood which is the price of our redemption.  You were not redeemed with corruptible things as gold or silver, from your vain conversation with the tradition of your fathers: but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb unspotted and undefiled (1 Pet 1:18).

We were absolved from every stain by the water, which is the laver of our redemption.  In the prophet Ezekiel it is said, I will pour upon you clean water, and you will be cleansed from all your filthiness (Ezek 36:28).  And in Zechariah, There shall be a fountain open to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for the washing of the sinner and the unclean woman (Zech 13:1).

And so these two things may be thought of in relation to two of the sacraments, the water to baptism and the blood to the Holy Eucharist since, in the Mass, water is mixed with the wine.  Although the water is not of the substance of the sacrament.

Again, as from the side of Christ asleep in death on the cross there flowed that blood and water in which the Church is consecrated, so from the side of the sleeping Adam was formed the first woman, who herself foreshadowed the Church.St Thomas Aquinas, COMMENTARY ON THE GOSPEL OF ST JOHN

Article 12

Tenth Defect: The Language of Smith Throws a Veil Over the True Point of the Difficulty to be Overcome in Explaining the Origin of Ideas.

157. Observe, moreover, how the language of Smith tends to mystify the reader respecting the nature of the difficulties which are to be met in explaining the formation of the ideas of genera and species, or more generally of abstract ideas.

This it does by conveying incorrect notions and, as a consequence, misleading the mind and preventing it from seeing the real knot of the question.

Smith begins by assuming that common names signified merely a multitude of individuals of a given species.

Then in this use of the word ‘multitude’ for that of species there lurks another fallacy. A multitude of individuals always consists of a determinate or at least a finite number. The word ’species,’ on the contrary, does not indicate a determinate number, but all possible individuals endowed with that character or quality which has been assumed for determining the species. This difference is of the greatest relevance to our question. Let us see how.

If there be a question of explaining how a man, after having given a name to an individual, may apply the same name to five others-and if it be assumed that by that name he means to indicate only one individual at a time, without any regard to the similarity which this individual has with others-it will only be necessary to suppose two faculties in him, namely, (1) the faculty of perceiving individuals (singulars), and (2) the faculty of indicating each of them by an arbitrary sign. He has had in this case five individuals and five signs; but as the signs, as well as the individuals, were independent of one another, instead of taking five different signs, he was free to repeat the same sign five times over, only attaching a different meaning to it each time.

But if, on the contrary, there is a question of explaining how a proper has passed into a common name-or, in general, of how it was possible for man to invent common names-then the problem is changed into this other: ‘How was it possible for a man to name individual objects through a quality common to all?’ And to answer this ti will be necessary to suppose in man, not two, but four faculties-namely, (1) the faculty of conceiving individuals; (2) that of fixing his attention on their common qualities, or of forming abstract ideas; (3) that of considering individuals in so far as endowed with these common qualities; and (4) that of expressing by words all these things which he knows-that is to say, the individuals as such, the common qualities also as such, and the individuals in so far as endowed with these qualities. This last manner of naming individuals is what corresponds to the invention of common names.

To invent a common name, therefore, is, not to apply a proper name to a determinate number of individuals, but to designate by a name all the individuals characterized by one and the same quality. The inventor does not seek to know the number of those individuals. Whether they be few or many, it is on concern of his; for his name stands equally good for all, even for those which have only a potential existence, and whose number is infinite.

On the contrary, when the same proper name is repeated and applied to several individuals, the repeater is obliged to know each of those individuals one after the other.  In this case none of the individuals which is not present to his mind can be said to be called by the name; whereas a common name embraces within its meaning those objects which are not individually known by the inventor-nay, which are pure possibilities and will never be realized.

Thus, assuming that a father has given the name of Peter to each of nine sons who now compose his family, it does not follow that if he were to have a tenth son, Peter, must necessarily be his name.  It would simply rest with the father to decide whether the same name should be repeated, or another introduced.  So in the event of other sons following: each of them might be called Paul, or Anthony, or Andrew, or by any other name the father pleased.  With common names the case is different.  The word man, for instance is not applicable to one man only, or to those whom the inventor happens to know, and specially intends to indicate at the moment.  Its applicability extends per se to all the individuals endowed with those common qualities which, taken in their assemblage, constitute what is known as human nature.  No new act of the will is ever required to make valid the particular application of this name; for they were all virtually decreed through that act by which the inventor first imposed it and which in his mind was equivalent to this proposition: ‘Every being which has or will have these qualities, I term a man.’

It is therefore manifest that a decree of this nature necessarily presupposes in the mind a universal and abstract idea, and is therefore not limited to a particular number, like that which is used in the imposition of proper names.

Let us conclude: to the assertion that a proper name has become common merely by being successively applied to many individuals, I would reply by the following distinction: Either that name has been applied to those individuals so as to be proper to each, and then it has not become a common name; therefore the formation of the common name has yet to be explained.  Or else the proper name, being applied to many individuals, has acquired a new meaning, so that it now signifies, not the individual itself, but its species-that is to say, indicates individuals through a quality common to them all; and in this case it remains to be explained how the change has been effected.  In other words, how has it come to pass that the thought of a pure individuality has been replaced in the speaker’s mind by the thought of a quality common to many individuals; whence did the speaker draw this common quality; and what is this quality which he has conceived and which he can separate from everything else and express by a distinct name?  In short, we are once more confronted by all those ideological problems of the Schoolmen of old, over which the elegant little narrative of Smith and Dugald Stewart may, indeed, throw a veil concealing them from the notice of incautious readers, but the solution of which is thereby rendered none the less necessary or difficult if we are to account for the existence of ideas.

On the supposition, then, that man has no other faculty but that of perceiving individual objects, it is quite impossible to explain the invention of common names, or the ideas of genera and species.  Smith and Dugald Stewart, in their eagerness to make us believe that a proper name becomes common simply by being applied to a certain number of individuals, and that therefore a common name represents merely a ‘multitude,’ forgot to inform us of how many individuals that multitude ought to consist; whether of two, or three, or four, &c.; and it was well that they did so, since, as we have said, a common name is applicable of its own nature to all the individuals possible of a given species; and their number is infinite.

158.  As further proof of the erroneousness of the opinion that a proper name becomes common simply by being applied to a certain number of individuals, I may point out an absurdity which would follow from it.  If what changes a proper name into common is its application to a certain number of individuals, clearly for every additional application the name will be ‘more common,’ or, which comes to the same, it will denote a wider species of things; which is evidently false.  Thus if a father has given the name of Peter to two of his sons, this name, according to Smith, has already become ‘common;’ but if we should go on applying it to three or four, it will be more common; and still more so, if to five, or six, or seven.

Certainly, if one wishes to abuse the meaning of the phrase common name, the thing may pass.  One may very well, in a certain sense, callcommon that proper name which is applied to a number of distinct individuals-e.g., to those three, four, five, whose name happens to be Peter.  But this is not the sense in which that phrase is used either by grammarians or philosophers.  It does not bring to our mind either a species or a genus of things; and our business here is to explain how the ideas of genera and species are formed.  Speaking in the first sense, the name becomes more common in proportion to the number of the individuals to whom it is successively applied.  But in the sense understood in this our present discussion, a common name is common from the very first; nor does its commonness increase by adding ever so much to the number of its applications; for, as we have so often seen, it belongs of its own nature to all the individuals, not only actual but potential, of a given species.  Take, for instance, the word man, apply it successively to one, to two, to three, to ten, to a hundred, or to a thousand human beings; will it mean anything more than an individual possessed of human nature quite irrespective of number, time, place?  Will its commonness ever be enlarged beyond that which it originally had?  No.

159.  From the system of philosophers I appeal to the good sense of anyone.  For a philosopher who stands formally pledged to a certain opinion, dreading the consequences which a frank and complete avowal of error would involve, is sometimes apt to deny that which is quite plain to everyone else; whereas any ordinary person with an average amount of good sense, is very well able to pronounce on matters that fall within his competence, as is, for instance, the signification of words, which is not by any means the exclusive property of philosophers and fortunately cannot be so readily altered by their cavils.  I take, then, the word man, though any other name would do as well, and I ask, Does this word denote only a certain number of individuals?  Or is not its meaning equally applicable to an indeterminate and indefinite number of individuals, to every being which exists, actually or potentially, with human nature in it?

Now, if a common name, taken in the ordinary sense, includes the idea of the possibility of other individuals besides those in actual existence, it remains to be explained what this possibility linked with common names is; and how we come to have an idea which makes the meaning of a word fully as extensive as that possibility.

That everyone who uses a common name includes in its meaning the idea of the possibility of all the individuals of the species which the name expresses, is an undeniable fact.  And this idea is not merely universal but universal in the highest degree; for it has nothing to do with the individuals themselves: it only enables us to conceive an indefinitely greater and greater number of them.

Let us imagine a class of intellectual beings of such a nature as to be devoid of the power of conceiving this possibility, and therefore incapable of perceiving any but a given number of individuals.  The perceptive power of these singular might be very unevenly distributed.  In some it might be restricted to only five individuals; in others it might extend to ten; while again in others it might reach up to as many as a hundred, or a thousand, or a million, and so on; but never beyond and appointed limit, which it would be impossible for them to transcend.  Now, with an intelligence like this let us compare that of man.  He has, indeed, the power of perceiving a certain number of individuals actually existent-five, ten, a hundred, a thousand, &c.; but he can also in each case add, by a capacity natural to him, the concept of all the individuals existing only potentially, which is a very great deal more.

Now, the being of the class we have imagined could invent no other than proper names; man, on the contrary, is able to invent common names, because his mind can conceive individuals in the state of pure possibility.  And even if those beings were supposed to apply the same proper name to each of the individuals perceived by them (although this also would be impossible), the name would never be any other than proper (see 146); no common name would have been invented.  Man, on the contrary, has power to invent common names; because, as I have said, he is able (1) to name an individual object in so far as endowed with a quality which can be held in common with it by other individual objects, irrespective of number, time, and place; and (2) to conceive the possibility of the indefinite repetition of such quality in any number whatsoever of like individuals.

160.  In the signification of every common name, therefore, the following ideas are included: (1) the idea of quality; (2) the idea of the aptitude of that quality to belong to an individual; (3) the idea of the possibility of the same quality being shared in by an indefinite number of individuals.  And these same ideas are all included in every specific as well as generic idea.  For a common name expresses a quality conceived as possible to be shared in by an indefinite number of individuals; and that quality is what constitutes either a species or a genus, as the case may be.

What are we, then, to conclude?  That Smith’s way of accounting for he formation of the ideas of genera and species is a failure.  Reduced to few and clear expressions, his reasoning comes to the following: ‘Proper names become common by being successively applied to may individuals.  These names so applied hold in man’s mind the place of the ideas of species and genera.’

My reply, stated also in a few words, is this: The mere application of a proper name to many individuals does not make it common.  To become common that name must change its meaning.  It must, instead of designating individuals by what constitutes their individuality, denote them by means of some quality which they hold in common.  For this purpose and internal operation of the mind is required; because it is only by the mind that the meaning of a word can be changed.  but the mind cannot change the meaning of that name except (1) by directing it to signify a common quality, whereas previously it signified the individuality alone; (2) by conceiving that quality as possible to be possessed by an indefinite number of individuals.

It is not, therefore, the common name that holds in our mind the place of these ideas; but it is these ideas that give the name its signification.  In other words, it is through ideas that the mind transforms proper into common names.

Therefore, even if it were true (which it is not) that man invents proper names first, and then renders them common, we are still left in the dark as to how he comes to form the ideas of genera and species; for these ideas must be in his mind antecedently to, or at least simultaneously with, his invention of common names

Article 11

Ninth Defect: Smith, while professing to explain abstract ideas, gives no such explanation at all.

156. Thus far our consideration has been restricted to the progress of language, on the supposition that man was its author.  We have therefore examined only the external product of the interior operation of the mind, and said nothing as yet of how and by means of what faculties this operation must proceed so that it may end in that external result.  If we can succeed in correctly describing all this, the progressive steps which we have detailed as taking place in the formation of language will have received an adequate and satisfactory explanation.

Most men are satisfied with seeing the process of the mind described in tis outward manifestation; because their attention is absorbed by the external forms of the discourse.  This is so much the case that even such a thinker as Dugald Stewart, when wishing to account for the formation of genera and species, unhesitatingly endorses the views expressed on the subject in the passage he has quoted from Smith, and declares that “Smith’s account appears to him to be equally simple and satisfactory.”

Now, I will admit, for the moment, that the whole of what Smith says in that passage is true, and that man did really pass from  proper to common or appellative names.  But I am still at a loss to see that our author has in any way explained the manner in which man forms those assortments of individuals which he afterwards calls genera and species.  To tell us that man passes from proper to common names is not as yet to inform us what takes place in his mind.  It is not to examine the interior operation corresponding to that transformation of names, nor to seek what faculties must necessarily be supposed for such an operation-in a word, it is not to give us any clue to the solution of those difficulties which, as Dugald Stewart himself says, have caused some philosophers to look upon the formation of genera and species as one of the most perplexing problems in metaphysics.

154. When Smith, therefore, pronounced so confidently that the first cave, tree, and fountain with which his savage became acquainted were naturally the first objects he would designate by proper names; that these names would become common simply through the savage applying them to other caves, other trees, and other fountains; and that all the common nouns we have at this day were originally proper, he expressed the direct contrary of the real facts.

He owed this error to his incorrect notion of what constitutes respectively a proper and a common noun. He thought-and at first sight it would seem truly-that a proper noun is a name given to a single individual, and a common noun a name applied to many. Herein, however, he mistook that which accidentally happens in connection with these nouns for what properly constitutes their nature. It is, indeed, customary for a common noun to be applied to many individuals, and for a proper noun to be applied to one only; but, as I have just said, this is merely accidental. The contrary would not only be possible, but is actually seen in practice. Sometimes a common noun is applied to a single individual without ceasing on that account to be common, and vice versa a proper noun is applied to may individuals without ceasing to be proper (see 146, 151). In point of fact, the proper as well as the common noun is never applied except to one individual at a time; their only difference being, as I have so often pointed out, that the common noun is taken from a certain quality in which many other individuals do or may participate; whereas the proper noun aims direct at the individuality itself, which is essentially proper and incommunicable.

The truth, therefore, is, not that proper nouns have gradually passed into common, but that those which were once common nouns have been made to serve as proper, by transferring them to signify that individuality which originally was not expressed but only understood.

The better to see how this could have been done, we must bear in mind that a common noun does not of its own nature determine (as a proper noun does) an individual in such a way as totally to divide it from all the others which do or may share in the common quality whence it has been derived (145). It only acquires this determinative force from a tacit understanding, or, to speak more correctly, an understanding expressed by the fact men mutually agree that the name, although ‘common’ by its nature, shall be taken to signify exclusively a certain particular being.

Thus the aptitude which the common noun has for being applied to a single individual is not expressed in the noun itself, but implied by those who make use of it with that intent. And the reason why the individuality is not directly expressed but only implied, lies precisely in the difficulty which the human mind encounters in concentrating its gaze on the pure individuality of a being apart from all its qualities-a most arduous mental operation, and one of the very last to be performed.

155. But let us proceed: be it well understood, then, that the first step which the human mind makes towards knowing the individuality of things is to perceive that individuality, as united and bound up together with all the common qualities, and to fix the attention on it less distinctly than on them.

According to this, man at first designates with names the common qualities, and afterwards makes use of these names for indicating the individuality; so, however, as to show that idea of that individuality is not as yet distinctly noticed by him, and therefore not capable of being expressed by itself alone with a strictly proper noun. Indeed, the invention of a strictly proper noun is so difficult a task that hardly any instances of it can be found even in modern languages.

Returning, therefore, to our savage, and supposing for sake of argument that the names of his cave, tree, and fountain were to be invented by himself, we should have to describe the probable process of his mind during that operation in the following way:-

At the outset, he would notice in his cave, in his tree, in his fountain, some one of the more prominent qualities, which more readily and vividly struck his senses, as for instance in the cave, hollowness; in the tree, gnarledness, or height; in the fountain, depths or the rising of the water, or some other such quality. Then by means of these qualities he would invent truly common nouns, which in his mind would be equivalent to the propositions: ‘That which is hollow; that which is gnarled; that which is deep or rising.’

Then feeling, as he must do, that the constant supplying of his own wants was intimately connected with the particular objects in which he had noticed their qualities I have referred to, he would very soon make use of those same common nouns for designating them-i.e., his particular cave, tree, and fountain-pursuant to the law we have stated, that common nouns can be made to answer the purpose of proper nouns, not, indeed, in virtue of their own nature, but by the intention of him who uses them, and the circumstances in which he uses them.

As, however, the supposition is that our savage at this stage would only know one cave, tree, and one fountain, he could not apply the names he had invented except to these alone.  But when he afterwards came to discover the other  caves, other trees, other fountains, he would instantly perceive that they possessed qualities similar to those of the objects with which he had first become acquainted, and that, therefore, the same names would equally do for them.

Consequently, he would now apply his name to many trees, many caves, and many fountains; and thus that which had been a common noun from the beginning would undergo no other change than that of being actually used to indicate several individuals at once, each, however, distinct from the others, while at first it had been used to designate one only.  This, then, would be a second step.

But when circumstances arose of a nature to make our savage feel that it was needful for him to distinguish his own cave, &c., from all the others, he would make a third step; but it would not be as yet of the invention of strictly proper names.  He would probably distinguish several caves of his forest through some addition made to the common noun itself in the form, for instance, of the possessive pronoun mine, thine, his: saying my cavern, thy cavern, his cavern &c.; or in any other form he might think fit for indicating the cavern belonging to himself, or to the person he was addressing, or to a third person.

Before arriving at the invention of proper nouns he would have still a long way to go.  He would have to pass from the state of a savage into that of an orderly social being.  It would be necessary that the society which began in his woods and was at first limited to a single family should expand into  much larger proportions, should attain a very high degree of culture and civilization, and at the last state of perfection-a state in which men are not only fully equal to the most subtle and most sustained abstractions, but able to keep their minds fixed on them-a state in which artificial wants are multiplied, and moral wants developed, diversified, and refined.  I say artificial and moral wants; for it is by them that men are impelled to draw ever closer and closer distinctions between things, to divide the greater into lesser classes; to designate the species which are narrowest, and approach nearest to the individual; to arrange these species in all possible ways, necessary as well as arbitrary; and, lastly, to fasten on the individuals themselves by means of names exclusively significative of their individuality-which is the last and most refined operation of all.-Antonio Rosmini, THE ORIGIN OF IDEAS.

The Hebrew language is quite colorful. Biblical poetry is beautiful and full of meaning; unfortunately, English translations often miss interesting and expressive thoughts rooted in the text; meanings and nuances which can be a great aid in using the Scripture for the purpose of prayer and meditation. Below I provide the Hebrew text of Psalm 7:2, followed by an English transliteration, then an English translation from the Douay-Rheims Bible. I will then give my own interpretive translation followed by some notes. Most readers of this post may wish to simply begin reading under the heading Douay-Rheims translation.

Hebrew text (note, Hebrew is read right to left.)

יהוהH אלהיH בך חסיתיH הושׁיעניH מכל רדפי והצילני׃H

English transliteration (I’ve transliterated the text so that it now reads left to right)

Yahweh elohiym chasah yasha min radaph natsal

Douay-Rheims translation

O Lord, my God, in thee have I put my trust; save me from all them that persecute me, and deliver me.

Interpretive translation

Hear me, O LORD my God, I flee to you to put space between me and those who pursue me, that you may snatch me from them.

Notes keyed to the Douay-Rheims text

O Lord, my God.- I translated it as “Hear me, O LORD, my God.” In prayers of petition God is not merely addressed, rather, he is being called upon for help, so, to bring out this nuance, I have added the words “hear me”. I have also put the word LORD in upper case letters, as is done in most modern translations. In the Hebrew text the word being used is Yahweh; the Divine Name revealed to Moses in Exodus 3:14-15. Jews refrained from speaking this name out of respect, inserting some other title in its place. In the Greek version of the OT (i.e., the Septuagint or LXX) they employed the use of Kyrios, Lord. Modern translations of the Hebrew and Greek text often employ LORD out of respect to devout Jews, “our elder brothers of faith in God.” Further, translations based on the Greek Septuagint often employ LORD in upper case to distinguish it from other usages not referring to the divine name.

In thee have I put my trust; save me from all them that persecute me.- I translated it as “I flee to you to put space between me and those who pursue me.” The Hebrew word for trust is chasah (khaw-saw), which denotes taking flight for protection. This word contrasts nicely with the word radaph (raw-daf), which the DR translates as “persecute” and I translated as “pursue”, for the word means “to run after.” The Psalmist, pursued by his enemies is fleeing to God, his source of protection. we often think of the need and the fact of protection as something which limits us-i.e., a fortress, gates, locked doors, the witness protection program-but the Psalmist sees it as something expansive and freeing. The Hebrew word translated in DR as “save” is yasha (Yaw-shah), which means to be open, wide, or free.  The Psalmist wants “space” (separation) between himself and his enemies.  Underlying this thought may be the idea of God (or His Temple) as a refuge or sanctuary.

Deliver me.- I translated this as “snatch me from them”. This reflects the Hebrew word chalats (khaw-lats). It denotes a quick, sudden movement of agility and strength, and fits in well with the motif of fleeing and being pursued. Whatever his abilities may be in avoiding evil and enemies, the Psalmist still admits his need of God in the face of enemies, and is confident that God’s aid will reach him before his pursuers overtake him.

The OT (and the NT as well) has a number of words that express or relate to themes such as salvation, oppression, God’s help, ect. It is certainly understandable and desirable that those words be translated into English in a standardized way in order to reflect the theology of Scripture. However, I do think that a translation of the Psalms and the poetic portions of the Prophets which would bring out the finer, personal meaning of the texts would be of great value, and be deeply appreciated by those who pray the Psalms, the Divine Office, or engage in Lectio Divina.