Elements of Theology, Proposition 18

 Every thing which imparts being to others is itself primari­ly that which it communicates to other natures.

For if it gives being, and makes the impartance from its own essence, that which it gives is subordinate to its own essence, which is truly greater and more per­fect, since every nature which is able to constitute any thing is better than that which is constituted by it—hence the giver is essentially superior to that which is given, but is not the same with it, for the one exists primarily, but the other secondarily. For it is necessary that either each should be the same, and that there should be one reason and definition of each, or that there should be nothing common and the same in each, or that the one should subsist primarily, but the other secondarily. If, however, there is the same reason and definition of each, the one will no longer be cause, but the other effect; nor will the one subsist essentially, but the other in a partici­pant; nor will the one be the maker, but the other the thing made. But if they have nothing which is the same, the one will not constitute the other from its very being, because in that case it imparts nothing. Hence it follows that the one which gives is primary, but that the other to which existence is given is secondary; the former supplying the latter from its very being.
 

 

COMMENTARY

This strikes me as a rather important point, and as illustrating one of the distinctions between the Platonism of Proclus and the mainstream of the Christian tradition as we have received it. 

"Everything which imparts being to others is that which it communicates to others." In the mainstream Christian tradition, God creates the world ex nihilo, that is, out of nothing. Moreover, God creates the world all by himself: In principio creavit Deus caelum et terram. In the beginning, the Lord created the Heavens and the Earth. 

In the Platonic tradition, by contrast, creation unfolds by a series of emanations. The terms to keep in mind here are "same" and "different." Proclus tells us, "For it is necessary that either each should be the same, and that there should be one reason and definition of each, or that there should be nothing common and the same in each, or that the one should subsist primarily, but the other secondarily." If we have a cause and a caused, they are either exactly the same, or totally different, or else-- one is primary, and the other secondary. But if they are totally the same, then it's useless to speak of one causing the other, or even to speak of "one" and the "other." On the other hand, if they are totally different, then one cannot "impart being" to the other. They have nothing in common, and the one cannot create the other. The solution is the third option: The one exists primarily, the second, by participation. Both partake both of sameness and difference, and these terms mean something real. 

To return to Christianity: Many of Christian philosophers and all of the best drew extensively on Hellenic philosophy, often directly from Plato or Aristotle, sometimes by later thinkers like Plotinus (Hello, Augustine) or Proclus himself (paging Dionysius.) However, those who were accepted as orthodox (or Orthodox) invariably felt the need to modify the tradition. 

For Proclus, the First Principle is the One or the Good. The One constitutes the Gods or Henads, the Unities. These unfold progressively. The First Triad is the Good-- not the Good Itself, but the Good as part of the triad of terms, the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. The Good in this sense is both the leader of the triad just mentioned, and itself triadic, composed of the terms Desirable, Sufficient, and Perfect. From this first triad are emanated a whole series of triads, constituting the principles of Being, Life, and Intellect. The final term of the final Intellectual Triad is the Demiurge, who creates the universe that we know. He is identified mythologically with Jupiter. The first term of his triad is his father Saturn, to whom he looks as his paradigm or model for creation.  

But it doesn't end there. From Jupiter are constitued another triad of gods, who are also creators or Demiurges: Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto. And from these unfold the further series of gods who dwell in the sky, the sea, and the land. Each, ultimately, has its role in creating our world.

Proclus derives these ideas from Plato himself. In the Republic, Plato reveals the Good Itself, which produces the Noetic or Intellectual world of the eternal forms or Ideas. In the Timaeus, the teaches that a creator God, who was all good (and in whom there was no jealousy because he was good), created our universe by looking to the perfect universe of the forms. And he created the universe as itself a blessed God. But because the Creator was good (and not a jealous god), anything he created would be eternal as he is; he therefore created younger gods who were immortal but not eternal in the same sense as he was, and gave to them the mission of creating bodies for living things that are born, grow, and die. 

The Christian tradition essentially took these ideas and simplified them. Rather than being good, the Creator is the Good; these two are identical. And rather than delegating the creation of matter to subordinate gods, the creator creates both the physical world and the subordinate gods or angels. He then gives the angels the job of... well, it isn't always clear what they do or why they're necessary, which is why there have been so many different ideas about them over the millennia. The Old Testament tells us that he does indeed distribute the nations among the gods, as Plato also believed. Dionysius basically gives them the jobs of Proclus's divine triads, except that they're more like guys who showed up to work for a business that had already started rather than helping the boss to open it, or to have any ownership themselves. The Protestant traditions, when they remember the angels at all, seem to have turned them into Caspar the Friendly Ghost types who turn up every now and again when the boss gives them a mission. Other traditions are somewhere in between.   

In any case, part of what this all means is that, insofar as our own being is imparted to us by God, God is primarily that which we are secondarily. We are not created ex nihilo but ex Deo; there is, indeed, for Proclus, a divine spark within each of us.