Founded in 1365, the University of Vienna had established a faculty of theology by 1384. Its curriculum centered upon the study of Holy Scripture, particularly the Old Testament. The commentaries produced over the next few decades were often huge, filled not merely with the exposition of the biblical text and its various senses but also exhibiting sustained engagement with both doctrinal and practical questions. Medieval masters of theology had always been highly conscious of their public responsibilities, weighing in on all manner of doctrinal, pastoral and even political matters. Yet sustained analysis in this vein was typically reserved for Sentences commentaries and academic disputations, often in the form of quodlibetal questions. The Vienna theologians chose scriptural commentary as the primary forum wherein to handle a host of knotty questions. It was Holy Scripture, this repository of “immoveable truth,” that held the answers.

This deeply researched, intricate, and compelling study by Edit Anna Lukács focuses upon three of the most illustrious Vienna masters: Henry Totting of Oyta, Henry of Langenstein, and Lambert of Geldern. What is striking from the start is that so much of their work was produced in response to what they regarded as the excesses of Oxford theology produced decades earlier in 1330/1340s by the likes of Adam Wodeham, Robert Holcot, and not least Thomas Bradwardine.

Henry Totting of Oyta (d. 1397) had incorporated large sections of his Sentences commentary within his Psalms Lectures. Although there is also material in these lectures that is unique, dealing with practical questions surrounding the sacraments. Contrary to Robert Holcot, who had spoken of a “logic of faith” uniquely applicable to Christian doctrines where Aristotelian principles broke down, Oyta affirmed that the Trinity is compatible with syllogistic reasoning. As Oyta saw it, one not only can, but really should, insist upon the convergence of philosophical and theological reasoning. This was no merely conjectural matter for the lecture hall; Oyta was concerned with what happens beyond the university walls. Non-Christians, specifically the Jews of Vienna, might otherwise assail the Christian faith as irrational if it could not be defended with tools fashioned by natural reason.

As an exegete, Oyta was also keen to defend the veracity of Scripture’s literal sense. Here one detects the influence of Richard FitzRalph (d. 1360), although Oyta was also responding to the fallout from the 1340 debate at Paris as the theology masters had then determined that the literal sense (virtus sermonis) of sacred texts must be broad enough to encompass the intended meaning of the author, which extends beyond a proposition’s bare grammatical arrangement. To that end Oyta argued that a proposition may be understood not only literally, parabolically, allegorically, or even absolutely, but also conditionally (sub conditione). That is, a seemingly false proposition can actually be true when one supplies certain implied conditions. By way of example, Oyta noted the scene in which Jesus said he would not go up to the festival, by which Jesus presumably meant publicly rather than secretly (John 7:8–10). Lukács furthermore highlights Oyta’s staunch opposition to Thomas Bradwardine’s determinism, famously presented in the Oxford master’s De causa Dei contra Pelagianos. Oyta argued vigorously against simple antecedent necessity, in favor of conditional or consequential necessity.

Henry of Langenstein (d. 1397), whom Lukács reckons the most brilliant of the three masters, produced a massive commentary on Genesis that runs to some 1630 folios. Langenstein had incorporated within this commentary his treatise On Fatal Necessity, which was itself a sustained response to Bradwardine. Here Langenstein observed that there are some who believe that everything must occur by necessity if one is to preserve divine foreknowledge, thereby excluding future contingents. Langenstein went so far as to accuse Bradwardine and others (alii) of lapsing into heresy for having contradicted catholic doctrine and perverting the truth of Scripture. Who are these “others”? The schoolmen were loath to cite opponents by name, frequently identifying them only as “quidam” and “alii.” Yet consider that among the 45 errors attributed to John Wyclif (d. 1384) at the Council of Constance was error 27: “Omnia de necessitate absoluta eveniunt.” Although this condemnation came decades later, Langenstein and Wyclif had been contemporaries.

Langenstein moved on many fronts and was actively involved in discussions with Jewish scholars in Vienna. He was often critical of their (mis)use of logical principles that led them to deny central principles of the Christian faith. Unlike Henry Totting of Oyta, however, Langenstein resisted the simple application of syllogistic reasoning to the loftiest Christian doctrines; it must be supplemented by divine revelation. What works in the natural sciences proves to be insufficient in matters of faith. He offered the following example: “This essence is Three Persons; this essence is the Father; therefore, the Father is Three Persons.” The philosophers thought that syllogisms functioned universally, observed Langenstein, because they were formulated according to a mode of being (modus essendi) suitable to creatures. The principle of non-contradiction is not universally valid, however, for although it prevails in the natural sciences, it breaks down when applied to principles of faith. Langenstein unfortunately blamed the Jews for clinging to this principle and stubbornly refusing to acknowledge its limitations in a theological context.

The last of the three theologians covered in this volume is Lambert of Geldern (d. 1419), standing in the generation following Oyta and Langenstein and influenced by both. Producing lectures on the twelve minor prophets, it was in his Hosea commentary that Lambert dealt with both infidels and heretics. Although writing in the midst of controversies with the Bohemian Hussites, who drew staunch opposition from many theologians among the Vienna faculty, Lambert never mentioned them as such. This is in contrast to his contemporary Michael Suchenschatz who specifically condemned “wycliffistae et hussitae haeretici.” In his Zephaniah commentary, Lambert responded to Wodeham and Holcot regarding the possibility that God could be deceptive. Lukács surmises that Lambert’s response indicates that he knew FitzRalph’s position on future contingents, while not naming him. Lambert may also overlook FitzRalph when discussing the presence of lies in the Bible from the perspective of authorial responsibilty. Actually, FitzRalph tackled that very question in his Summa in questionibus Armenorum when drawing a distinction between a book’s author and its editor. As for lies recorded in the Pentateuch, therefore, FitzRalph concluded that Moses was not personally asserting these lies but served only as the editor who compiled them.

Lukács makes clear that for all three Vienna theologians, Holy Scripture would serve as the principal authority in every case, not Lombard’s Sentences or papal decrees. I do not believe that any late medieval theologian would dissent from this position. After all, the Sentences were understood as a distillation of truths contained in Scripture, and papal decrees could claim no authority if found to contradict Scripture. Nevertheless, it does speak to the practical centrality of the Bible in the university curriculum and the authority of theologians relative to canonists in the determination of ecclesiastical and political matters. Lukács has meticulously combed through thousands of manuscript folios in her explication of the Vienna faculty’s contribution to the medieval intellectual tradition. This book marks a substantial achievement in its own right and should spur further research in a field with much acreage yet to be plowed.