Tag Archives: Josef Pieper

Eros–Self Love

13 Tuesday Nov 2012

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[Jesus,] who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
—Hebrews 12:2

Self-love. Eros love, to use the Greek. I love myself and I want happiness for me. Is that wrong? Some would say so; they would say that it is wrong for me to want anything for myself. Real love, they might continue, is selfless and total unconcerned for self. This line of thinking has already caused me no little consternation in my own life as I think of my motives in a loving relationship. It is a common way to think within Christianity, but is this true?

Apparently, Jesus believe I should love myself. After all, He explicitly endorses self-love:

You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself. Apparently, if I do not love myself then what hope has my neighbor of receiving my love? What hope do I have of obeying Jesus if I don’t love myself?

Bernard of Clairvaux, the 12th century monk, offers a progression of four “degrees” of love that help me think through this (see his work, On Loving God). From lowest to highest, they are:

1) Love self for the sake of self. This is selfish, self-centered love. He refers to this as “carnal” love. This “first degree of love” is where we all start.

2) Love God for the sake of self. This is where I begin being “in love” when another is involved. I remember saying, “I can’t live without you.” It is loving another because of the happiness it brought me. I began my Christianity this way; I loved God for what He could do for me. Whether it was keeping me out of hell or keeping me healthy…I loved God for what I got out of the relationship.

3) Love God for solely because He is God. As I persisted in my relationship with God and begin to know Him, I found myself coming to love Him for whom He is. He is God and I love Him for that alone. And, as a consequence, I found that as He drew me closer to Him I began to see myself in the intense light of His perfect holiness. There was nowhere to hide; in every act I saw my sin. I loathed myself for the stink of my own sinfulness.

4) Love self only for the sake of God. God never loathes me. Jesus died for me; there is no greater expression of one’s love for another than this. A reporter once commented to Mother Teresa how much she loved the poor. She replied, “I don’t love the poor; Jesus loves the poor and I loves Jesus.” She loved the poor for the sake of Jesus. So it is with me: Jesus loves me; therefore, I love myself for the sake of Jesus. This is Bernard’s “fourth degree of love.” Given what I know about myself, what goes on within me, I have no other basis for proper self-love than this. Any other basis of self-love would be delusional and be the selfish love of Bernard’s first degree: self-love for my own sake.

If I love myself for God’s sake, then I say to myself, it is very good that I exist. In fact, philosopher Josef Pieper (Faith, Hope, Love) asserts that self-love is the love “on which all other [types of love] are founded and makes all others possible.” If I cannot apply the test, “it is very good that one exists” to myself, then to whom else can I really apply it? If the deepest form of love is union with another, then whom else am I more one with than with myself? As Pieper says, “unity is closer to the source than union.” With Jesus and with my wife I am becoming united; only with myself am I in unity.

Self-love is a consequence of my creation, of believing in my deepest self that it is good that I exist, then it must be good to seek my own happiness. I am, it seems, created to be a hedonist…a hedonist according to Bernard of Clairvaux. What does it mean to be a Christian hedonist?

If eros is self-love, then look at the other extreme, agapē love, the love God has for us. It is often described as selfless love, sacrificial love, a love free of self-interest, self-protection, or self-gratification. We say that Jesus died for us out of His agapē love for us…but then what do we make out of the joy He felt as He went to the cross? He was joyful because He loved His Father and out of love for Him and for us was crucified. Doing something for the One He loved and for us, who He also loved, gave Him joy. How, then, can we say that Jesus’ love was selfless and free of self-interest? Was it purely agapē love as we like to define it? Is there such a thing as love that is absolutely selfless?

Let’s try the philosophical technique of reductio ad absurdum, taking this idea of selfless love to its logical conclusion. If selfless love is best, then what about painful love? If it is good that I get nothing out of love, then wouldn’t it be better if it hurt? No.

This selfless characterization of agapē love sounds to me like a very antiseptic love, and I think it is a wrong characterization. I love my wife and my love gives me great pleasure. Should I not want that for myself? I love myself, shouldn’t I want happiness for me? Frankly, I cannot conceive of loving my wife without the accompanying joy and happiness it brings me. I cannot conceive of loving God joylessly. The feeling seems mutual; the old prophet Zechariah tells us that God sings over us (Zephaniah 3:17).

Eros, self-love, and agapē, selfless love. If self-love is that upon which every other love exists, then where does self-less love fit? Does eros end where agapē begins? I don’t think so. Consider the paradox of hedonism: it is the concept that one cannot find happiness by seeking it; rather, one finds happiness by living a virtuous life. However, one does not deny the received happiness as the reward of virtue. Bernard says the same thing about love:

Love is an affection of the soul, not a contract: it cannot rise from a mere agreement, nor is it so to be gained. It is spontaneous in its origin and impulse; and true love is its own satisfaction. It has its reward; but that reward is the object beloved. For whatever you seem to love, if it is on account of something else, what you do really love is that something else, not the apparent object of desire.

Tricky stuff. It seems that if I love serving God or love making Him happy, then those are the objects of my love and not God Himself. My joy, then, would be based on service to Him (likely as I define it) or His happiness (also likely as I define it) rather than God alone. My love for Jesus must be based on my affirmation that it is very good that He exists and my desire (out of self-love) to be united with Him. I am choosing to reorder my life to be in loving relationship with Him. It that because of self-less love or self-love?

I love God and I love my wife. I hope I would find it true were it ever put to the test that I would do anything for them, even giving my life. It is self-less in the sense that I desire nothing more than them. It is selfish in that out of their joy of being loved I receive the very pleasant reward of joy, the desire for which is born out of my self love, my eros.

So, unconditional love between lovers would be each wanting only the other, and out of the joy of the other experiencing joy. In this light, to even talk of “sacrificial love” seems foreign; for the lover there is no sacrifice, there are only acts of love for one’s beloved. For the joy set before Jesus, he endured the humiliation of the cross…my, what love.

We Are Blessed

17 Wednesday Oct 2012

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God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. God blessed them…
–The Biblical Creation Account; Genesis 1:27-28

In his book, Faith, Hope, Love, Josef Pieper examines the language we use to describe the various types of love, (e.g., self-love, friendship love, erotic love, selfless love) and finds a common theme regarding the nature of love: acceptance, in the sense of the Latin meaning, “good.” God’s first act toward created man and woman was to “bless” them, to praise their existence and to accept the first humans as “very good” (Genesis 1:31) “It is very good that you exist,” He says to all of mankind. This acceptance is based on nothing other than our very existence as humans, not our looks, our performance, or any other quality beyond our existence as humans.

Setting aside for a moment the fact we each have behaviors that should not be excused, stop and feel this statement: It is very good that you exist as a human being.

It is very good that you exist; for me, this offers the most profound comfort, a near tear-producing sense of acceptance in the core of my being. I feel a freedom I have never known, freedom from trying to earn acceptance and freedom from the fear of losing it. In God’s eyes, it is very good that I exist. God said it a little differently to His Son Jesus: “This is my Beloved in whom I wam well pleased.” This is the love God has for us, too.

Philosophers going back to Plato have tied one’s love to the acceptance of the other’s existence. Further, they have noticed that there are healthy degrees of acceptance. For example, I feel toward a stranger, and toward a friend, and toward my wife that it is very good that they each exist. Yet it is clear to me, and these philosophers agree, that I feel a different degree of passion toward a stranger than I feel toward my wife.

In the case of the stranger my affirmation of his goodness of existence simply acknowledges he is a creation of God. I have a general, caring passion–love–for him in the sense that he is a fellow human being. At the other end of the scale, however, my love toward my earthly beloved (my wife), entails an additional desire or passion to be united with her: a desire that we two become one flesh (Genesis 2:22-25). We remain remain distinct persons, but are united by a common passion to deeply know the other.

My longing for oneness with my wife is not surprising to me. It is a result of my Trinitarian theology. God is three separate persons, distinct in that the Son is the begotten of the Father and the Spirit precedes from Father and Son. And yet they are one in essence, each sharing the attributes of God. They are also one in relationship: theologians call it “mutual interpenetration,” Father, Son, and Spirit each in the other and each with the other in them. There is unity in their diversity.

I’m made in the image of God, Who is love. While God cannot share His essence with me, those things that make Him God, such as His infinite nature (I am forever finite), He has elected to allow me to share in His relationship; I am one with Him in relationship (see Jesus’ words in John 17:25-26). So, it is no surprise to me that in an earthly relationship I should long to be one in relationship with my beloved, my wife.

Great stuff, at least to me.

So, my love for another, in its most basic form, is the affirmation that it is very good that the other exists. But…doesn’t this understanding of love make it that much harder to obey Jesus and love my enemies, and in this particular case, Jessica’s killer? Can I really say to this killer, “It is very good that you exist?”

It Was Very Good

15 Monday Oct 2012

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God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.
–The Biblical Creation Account; Genesis 1:31

God talks to me a lot. That may sound funny to many; however, it is true. No, it is not an audible voice; rather, He speaks to me through others, usually authors, and most frequently through authors who are no longer living. Is has ceased to surprise me that as I am puzzling over a question authors will appear with whom I can enter into the question at hand. This quetins of loving one’s enemy is no exception. Enter Josef Pieper, a German Christian (Catholic) philosopher who specializes in the writings of Thomas Aquinas. My thinking is my interacting with his (Faith, Hope, Love, Ignatius Books) writing on love and that of others.

Love is one of the three theological virtues; faith and hope are the other two. The greatest of these is love (1Corinthians 13:13); faith and hope cannot be understood apart from love. But, what does it mean to love? Poets have tried for millennia to describe it. “How do I love thee…” Elizabeth Barrett Browning famously asks, then tries to answer. St. Paul, the poet, tries to describe love in his letter to Corinth (Love is patient, love is kind,…1Corinthians 13:4-8). Poetry, in fact, seems to be the only language we have to express love, and even often it seems inadequate even in the hands of a master poet.

St. John, often called the Apostle of Love, dispenses with poetry and states a brute fact: God is love (1John 4:8). This is what Christians believe and it is at the heart of the Christian conception of love: we must love our neighbors because God first loved us (1John 4:19); failure on our part calls into question our love for God (1John 4:20); mutual abiding, God in us, us in God, perfects love within us (1John 4:16-17).

The Christian account of creation begins with, “In the beginning, God created…” All that is other than the Trinitarian God Himself–Father, Son, Holy Spirit–has been created by God, this is the Christian view. At the end of the creation period (six days or day-ages), God “saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good” (Genesis 1:31). It was very good. In God’s eyes, it is good that the creation exists. Why is the creation “good”?

To answer that question, it seems to me, is to answer the question, “Why did God create?” I can’t pretend to know the motives of God; however, perhaps we can infer at least some of the answer. The trajectory of the Christian scriptures, the Bible, tell us that God wants a relationship with us, and more than a God-servant relationship, He wants to share the very relationship with us that exists between God the Father and God the Son (Jesus). We are invited to be one with Jesus as Jesus is one with God the Father (John 17:25-26). Perhaps, then, the love that exists between the three persons of the Trinity is so profound that this loving God determined to share it with created beings made in His image (human beings, see Genesis 1:26).

Hope: Now and Not Yet

17 Monday Sep 2012

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My foundational hope, the hope I have when all other hope is gone, is that all things in my life are brought about by God to bring me into the transformative union of likeness of God’s son, Jesus; this, of course, is through the power of the Holy Spirit, the personification of the loving relationship between Father and Son. (Of course, this assumes that I believe in God and have not strayed from following Him.) Further, one day I will be with God (God will be among us–Revelation 21:3) for all of eternity in the fully restored creation with no more death, mourning, crying, or pain. Ultimately, my hope is this: I will see God’s face and His name will be on my forehead (Revelation 22:4).

This is an extraordinary, ultimate hope. Frankly, it is beyond my comprehension (1Corinthians 2:9). It is the very definition of hope: longing for the ultimate good, the yearning that seems to be within each of us for the not-yet-being. But…what about now? The world today is filled with so much anger, pain, greed, self-centeredness, intolerance (even in its best definition), unhappiness, the list goes on-and-on. In my own world I often seem trapped inside this body that is wracked with selfishness; voices in my head, mine and others, condemn me. In my own pain I cause pain for others.

Regarding my world, it is becoming increasingly easy for me to find ordinary hope–the hope found in day-to-day living. The idea that God is drawing me into a deeper loving relationship with Him and through this love is transforming me into the likeness of Jesus is compelling. I have such a clear image/feeling in my soul of what that relationship will be like that I am increasingly willing to endure anything to experience it. Sure, I have my attention diverted from time-to-time; however, as quickly as I can refocus on the goal–relationship with Christ–then my hope returns. I have the great ordinary hope that in Jesus I am already the child of God that I am becoming.

Finding ordinary hope for the world around me is harder. Sure, I can look at the world and know that one day it will be restored and all the hardship and death will be gone; my foundational hope for the world is nicely intact. But for today…where can I find ordinary hope as I read the newspaper? I don’t think I can apart from my own ordinary and foundational hope with God.

I’m not particularly given to progressivism (theological postmillennialism), believing that the world–its human inhabitants–will get better as history proceeds. History simply doesn’t seem to support that view. So, what should I make of this world? My head tells me that given the design constraints (i.e., God wants a loving relationship with humans with free will), this is the best possible world God could have created to ensure the most (but not the majority–Matthew 7:13-14) of us fall in love with Jesus; any other created world would result in even fewer entering into an eternal life of knowing God (John 17:3). I also know that God is active in this world in His way.

I know that some try to find ordinary find hope in the perceived security of a large 401(k), or the markets (stocks, bonds, gold, commodities, etc.), or a good job, or the green movement. Some try to numb their lack of hope with drugs or alcohol or cutting; for others, the drug of choice is distraction by cars, boats, big homes, travel, busy lives, multiple sexual partners, etc.

Apart from God I cannot see any ordinary hope for this world. Certainly not all of the things in the paragraph above are bad if experienced rightly within their proper context; however, none can provide hope as defined as moving toward the ultimate good, becoming better, progressing as not-yet-beings as the ancients defined hope. At best these things are temporal, failing to provide any real hope. I think we humans are quite resourceful in the ways we concoct to find ordinary hope in the face of the reality of this world.

The only hope, ordinary and foundational, that I can find for myself and the world around me is the hope of knowing Jesus (Philippians 3:7-16). If this is true, then maybe we Christians should stop shouting, “Thou shalt not…” at the world, being just another shrill voice in the din of angry voices in a world full of hate. Just maybe we ought to offer a positive voice asking the gentle question, “Where do you find hope?” But we need to know just where we find our own hope so that we can offer t freely to others (2Peter 3:15).

I’m going to begin asking people this question, where do you find hope? I’ll let you know how it goes.