In the grip of grace

Romantic and marital love - part 5

2009-03-28T22:06:00.000+11:00

If we should not underwrite our marriage contract with eros (as it seems the contract is largely designed to protect the marriage from eros), then what should we underwrite it with? What can be truly considered marital love?

If we were to underwrite our marriages with agape, say, which by the classical definition is disinterested, then our bonds of marriage bond us to serve the other without seeking reciprocation. And yet, we found that while this is easy to apply to neighbourly love, friendship love begins seeking reciprocation from an equal, and romantic love tentatively places responsibilities on our complimentary other. Thus marriage is a mutual bond that places responsibilities on the other (as well as ourselves) which are far greater than any other of the loves we have discussed so far. Yet, is the responsibility placed on the other none other than the same agape which we obligate ourselves to? And is the mutual agape to be undertaken as true agape: i.e. a love that does not seek to protect the rights of the one loving even if the one loved is obligated to love back?

If both spouses loved in a way which only thought of the other, than there would be no need to claim our own rights. But in the world in which we live this is rarely the case. In cases where one spouse, for whatever reason, fails to receprocate the love, the love of other spouse comes under strain as the rights of that spouse are threatened or even violated. Will agape hold up, or is there a point where the unconditionality of agape intersects with the failure of the marriage contract on the part of the other?

In such cases it may be fair to say that the spouse who was doing their part actually continues to love the other, but they do not know if they can continue in the relationship, because the marriage relationship should be two ways. The love remains, but the relationship is broken.

Only a century ago such a spouse would have soldiered on to the grave, faithfully remaining by their spouse no matter what. But these days we are more likely to uphold our own rights (and sometimes this may be necessary in the midst of a violent relationship or an adulterous spouse).

If this is the case, and it seems to be, with so many divorces, then the marriage contract and the pledge of love "to death do us part" is not truly unconditional, but rather remains conditional on the reciprocation of the other. Should either party fail their part of the contract, the contract may be annulled. This may or may not be how things should be, but certainly it is how they are, at least in the Western world.

This, it would seem, places the marriage contract above the love that underwrites it. Perhaps the bigger issue is why the love that underwrites fails in the first place. Could it be that it was the wrong love to begin with, an erotic desire for the other, rather than an unconditional affirmation of the other, the recognition of infinite value (dignity) and the unconditional and eternal response of seeking the thriving of this dignified other, and sharing in the joy of his or her being; walking the path of life together, whereever it leads walking together as one, no matter the cost; forsaking all other desires, potential partners, and ambitions that may pull us apart; fully giving ourselves over to the other, and renewing that gift of our whole selves each day, which is our undying expression of our love; respecting always; trusting; hoping always; never giving up...

If we do not know what love is, then what we think we have may not be enough to underwrite the sacred contract of marriage.

So far I have assumed that the disinterested agape is the preferred love here, but how does this bode with the romantic aspects of marriage, and how does it allow us to receive the reciprocated love of the other? Is there more to it than just agape? And how does our previous exploration of love as seeing fit into this relationship?

Marriage is an exclusive, complimentary relationship underwritten by mutual unconditional love, but I dont think we have gone far enough in understanding the specific nature of marital love yet, save to exclude eros, and to raise some questions about agape.

I will need to continue on this one.

Romantic and marital love - part 4

2009-03-17T17:14:00.006+11:00

We have established that marriage vows are underwritten by a tangible 'something'. We have noted that the vows are necessary to protect that something, and yet at the same time the something seems to be required to fulfill the vows, which is kind of circular.

I wonder if the issue here is that when people marry, they often marry for eros, which is a desire for the other for myself. If this is true then the I remains supreme and, from the perspective of the I, and the other simply becomes a possession belonging to the I. As long as the other fulfills the desires of the I and does not frustrate the ambitions of the I then everything is fine (from their perspective).

But strain and tension can result if the other does begin to frustrate the intentions, ambitions, decisions, and desires (including but restricted to libido) of the I. Within this framework the I will fight for its will, whether by assertion, aggression, conflict, deception, manipulation, withdrawal, separation... any means to remove the obstacle of the other from the plans of the I. In such cases the two 'I's cease to function as a we (not that they were were one).

Over a prolonged period of this tension, the bonds that draw the two together are replaced by the forces which drive the two apart and, couples may find themselves living together as two individuals, or living together in conflict as fighters, or with one person in submission to the other at all times as a conquered and somewhat dehumanised slave, or various other combinations... until one of the 'I's can no longer take it.

Similarly, if the 'I's marry for eros, which is a desire for the other, then what happens when that desire is fulfilled? I now have the other, but the promises eros made to me about ecstasy and fulfillment from this person are never fully realised (because of the very nature of eros), or perhaps the initial fulfillment and excitement fades into familiarity, since eros desires what we have not yet tasted (or biblically: 'known'). After we taste it, the thing is now 'known' and the desire is satisfied. Yet the feeling of desire which tells us that "if we only had such and such we would be happy" still yearns for "something", since desire always seeks self transcendence. Thus, naturally we will always desire new things, and never be content with what we have.

I do not think that marriage should be based on eros, or at least on eros alone. The more I consider this the more I believe that we should not let eros direct our activity as far as it is in our power not to. I only see it resulting in evil. Even if it is the force that initially brought us together, the same force will at a whim tear us apart.

Romantic and marital love - part 3

2009-03-15T13:17:00.008+11:00

As our exploration of love leads us closer to understanding it as a kind of union, let us now turn to marital love. We have seen that romantic love appears to be the tentative formation of a strong bond in which there is seen complimentary aspects in the other, and in which each person seeks to transcend their own selves to share life together with the other as a 'we'.

If allowed to run its course, and if the gravitational forces that draw the two together are not counteracted by repulsive forces such as lives that differ too much, clashes of personality, clashes of interests (in essence if the two selves are not able or willing to self-forsake in order to merge into the other and to mutually indwell each other) then a point will come where the two become one.

In just what sense do the two become one? Is this a mystical union? Is it a ontological bond of love that really does unite the two into a we? Is the bond more a volitional bond, a vow and contract of love (i.e. a marriage)? Does it include all of the above? And finally, does it include things we have not listed above also?

I have been wondering about the nature of this union in light of the high rate of failed marriages in the west today, in light of the high rate of adultery, and in light of recent studies in the UK which indicate that a growing number of people see marriage and exclusive binding union (i.e. monogamy) as unnatural.

If adultery is a real and present threat, and if the bonds of marriage can so commonly fall apart, then what is to be said of the bond that holds together? And what is to be said about the nature and reality of the union of the two into a we?

Is it that when people marry these days they do not truly unite? They do not truly give themselves over to the we, and instead they remain two I's? It seems from simple observation that there are many cases of conflicts of interests, clashes of wills, personal ambitions that the 'we' cannot share, and which pull one 'I' away from the other. Even the insatiable eros can pull one I away from the we in search of another I with which to form another we, but the we is often never a true we that the I is pulled away from, and often neither is it a true we that the I is drawn towards. The issue from what I can see, is that the I always remains an I, and any other I tends to be subjected to the desires of this I, as a means to my ends rather than the end of my means.

If this is true, is the problem that the tangible we never truly or never fully forms? Or is the problem that the we is not a bond that is formed once and remains on its own from then on, but rather consists of a constant renewal of the vow to remain a we, and constant reaffirmation and realisation of that vow? If it is then the we is always tentative, always fragile, and the two Is always remain. In such cases the presence of the binding contract of marriage is essential to the stability of the we, and this seems to be the case, or else we would not require the contract of marriage.

It is interesting and comforting that one of the classic clauses in the marriage contract (though it is used less and less in today's DIY marriage vows) is "I take you, forsaking all others". I find the wording of this phrase interesting. It is a volitional commitment to exclusivity. It is not saying "I will not desire others or be attracted to others, but I forsake all other interests, and will be with you alone."

Thus, it is not an automatic thing that when people get married their desires and impulses are turned off, neither is it true that they 'lock on' to the spouse, but love and full union require that each party promises to volitionally forsake all such desires. I think the threat of adultery is only one expression of desire that can draw an I away from a we.

Yet the other desires are not always stated so clearly. "For rich or for poor" is essentially the vow to forsake the pursuit of wealth if it leads you away from the we, just as "in sickness and in health" binds the I's to each other even if the other becomes a burden or deathblow to whatever my ambitions are. In all these cases there is a conscious decision made and vowed that I choose the we over and against any such forces which would work to separate the we for the sake of an I.

It seems that people are only too ready to break this contract and forsake the we for the sake of the I. And obviously there is a lot of serious reasons for this. For one, if the contract is a contract alone, why would we ever desire to enter into it in the first place? And why would we ever desire to forsake the big work break we had been working towards for two decades in order to care for a terminally sick spouse.

This suggests that whatever marriage contract we enter into is actually underwritten by something of substance and value. There is a real bond, however fragile, that is being protected by these contractual vows because without this protection and security, something of great value can and will be destroyed by what is in the end selfish forces (the desires of the I).

Looks like I need to break this into several posts to keep it readable. Stay tuned.

Romantic and marital love - part 2

2009-02-10T17:19:00.003+11:00

I have struggled to continue with this topic of romantic love for over a week now. I think I am struggling with whether eros can be considered love at all, well at least in light of the Bible's definition of it. It is clear that the Bible does not use the word eros, and it is clear that the love Jesus modelled and called us to is not one of desire so much, as it is a self sacrificing love. Thus, even though eros is considered a type of love by Greek literature, does it deserve to belong to the semantic range of 'love' in modern English? Whether or not is should be considered love, it unmistakably is considered love, and even considered the primary connotation of love in the Western world. Therefore I will continue to use it in my investigation, even if it might only cloud the topic.

So last time I got to a point of understanding eros as self-transcendence or desire for something 'other'. This could be a desire to lose one's self in the other, or to take the other into one's self. This drive or force/dynamic does not include in and of itself any concern for the other, for the sake of the other alone. The drive is primarily centred around the I. That is, it is my desire for the other, my desire to have the other for myself. The other is thus a means to our end, and we are the end. Even if our desire becomes a kind of worship in which we want to become lost in the other, and would do anything for the other, the underlying drive here is because we desire to be with the other for ourselves and for our own sake, not necessarily for theirs, hence there are many stalkers in the world, and rapists etc in extreme cases.

Having said that, our desire of the other can be present simultaneously with our concern and care for the other. In a healthy romantic relationship there is usually both of these aspects. Desire brings the two together, but the two are not destroyed because love regards each other as in individual of worth, thus keeping the two as two and not as becoming one. If love did not stop desire (and assuming the desire was mutual), one would become consumed by the other, or both would become consumed by the 'we'.

It is worth noting that in romance, everything is tentative. Though pledges of undying love are made and felt, and though our desire would decide for us that we would give up all to have the other, or to be with the other, there is still some testing that usually goes on: can I really become one with this person? Can I really live the rest of my life with them? Is this the right one, given that I must forsake all others? Do they love me back? Do they really know me? Do I really know them? Will this 'feeling' last?...

If neighbour love sees something valuable in the other and loves them for their sake as a response, and in friendship love sees equality in the other and loves them for their sake but also expects of them reciprocation, then romantic love is one step further: it sees complementatlity in the other, that is, rather than equality, it sees something in the other that is not present in ourselves, whether femininity, masculinity, leadership, confidence, gentleness, creativity... something that might complete us or make us more full.

If friendship started placing expectations on the other in a two way relationship, romantic love begins to place responsibilities on the other. The more we open ourselves up to each other, and the more we are exposed, the more we risk. Trust becomes paramount the closer two get.

Our exploration of types of love seems to be heading on a continuum between two parties that might start off and remain quite separate, to two parties whose lives, selves, possessions, destinies, time, proximity, emotions, memories and history becomes more and more entangled and shared that we begin to look at love as union.

But not before we look at marital and family love.

I think that marital and family love will take romantic love to the necessary next step. This will probably be the most difficult of the types of love due to the current context in history, where marriage and monogamy is coming to be seen as 'un natural', and promiscuity is becoming the norm.

I will start on marriage in my next post, and might look at it first on its own, and then in contrast to the pitfalls of romantic love outside of the context of marriage.

Snippet

2009-02-08T23:20:00.003+11:00

Interesting excerpt from Ben Witherington's blog:

“The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can tell; it goes beyond the highest star and reaches lowest hell…Could we with ink the ocean fill, and were the skies a parchment made, were every stalk on earth a quill and every man a scribe by trade, to write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry. Nor could the scroll contain the whole if stretched across the sky.”(Lehman)

Romantic and marital love - part 1

2009-02-08T21:46:00.006+11:00

Having explored the similarities and differences of neighbour and friendship love, as well as how they inform and shape our understanding of the very essence of love itself, we now turn to two other types of love, that of romantic love and marital love. Firstly, is there a difference between the two or are they essentially the same thing?

If we look at romantic love first and how it typically appears (at least in the West) before marriage, we will then explore if anything changes when two who are "in love" romantically take their relationship "to the next level" and marry.

Romantic love it typically identified with the Greek word eros, which we had identified in an earlier post as such:

It's central characteristic is desire, desire for the beloved. It sees in the beloved something it desires, and seeks to acquire that something for itself. In some ways it could be referred to as the souls attempt to transcend itself, to find completion in another. Eros is never used in the Bible, and thus never used to express God's love toward us, but some theologians believe it is apt to represent our reaching for God, as Augustine says "we are restless until we find our rest in him." As Eros can be understood as our reaching beyond ourselves for something to 'complete' us, it is typically seen as an egocentric love, a love that consumes, and is therefore unworthy of the love Christ commands us to have. It also makes sense, that if this is the definition of eros then it is not appropriate for God, who is complete in himself and thus does not desire anything from us.

Why would a person try to transcend themselves and seek completion in another? Is the only appropriate object of eros the God who can alone fill the God-shaped hole? Or is it appropriate to experience eros for another person? Is eros actually selfish and therefore a low love?

From what I have read and see in the media through movies, songs and shows, eros is like having an unknown other person living in us and making decisions for us, and promises on our behalf. We are simply slaves to its whim and must follow its lead, execute its decisions and fulfil its promises, hence another saying 'a slave to love'.

Eros is characterised by desire, and this is typically the desire for the opposite sex (sexual desire). Yet eros as sexual desire can also be directed at the same sex, and various other objects which the Bible understands as inappropriate (for example paedophilia). I don’t want to get into these variations, and what the Bible understands as corruptions of eros, suffice to say there are many other corruptions, such as David’s desire for Bathsheba, a married woman whose husband David sent to his death in order to attain his desire. It seems that unrestrained eros is a force for evil, and yet as one of the most powerful motives/drives on earth, human sexual desire is as much a power for evil as it is for good.

In speaking of sexual desire have I strayed from eros? I don’t think so. I think it is one specific manifestation of eros, one that has strong biological connections. But eros can also be desire for intimacy even if sex is not involved. Eros can also be desire for fame, or for riches, since eros is desire itself. On this understanding of eros many have argued that all humans desire something. We are not content on our own and within ourselves. We are not made to be alone (Genesis 2:18) and we cannot sustain life solely within ourselves. We always seek to transcend ourselves, to find completion in the other, to leave ourselves and live inside another, or to take another into ourselves. Eros can lead us to want to leave behind everything we had ever achieved and saved up, our entire kingdom. We want to lose ourselves in the other, in the object of our desire.

In this way eros leads to worship: the total dedication of ourselves to the service of the beloved. For this reason Augustine would say that the only appropriate object of eros is God himself. But eros can work the other way too, for desire is often a drive to take for one’s self. It can be not about losing ourselves in the other, but taking the other into ourselves, consuming them. Passionate acts of intimacy can involve both of these motions/directions. A kiss can be the offering of lips or the eating of the other, sex can be a pulling into one’s self or a losing one’s self into the other. The closeness of a hug can be the pulling of the two into one. And yet the Bible indicates the only appropriate context for the full expression of eros is safely inside a marriage.

Question 1: Why?
Question 2: If this is so, then what is the difference between marital love and romantic love, if anything?

Kant love?

2009-01-30T20:41:00.002+11:00

So far I have been understanding love as the perception of value in another person and everything that flows in our response to that value. I have found a 'valuable' resource to help better articulate what I have been referring to up to now as 'value'. A dictionary article I was reading referenced this work: Velleman, J. D., 1999, “Love as a Moral Emotion”, Ethics which outlines a model of love based on the perception of value. Velleman seems to be influenced by Emmanuel Kant's theory of human respect. I just want to share their ideas as they pertain to this topic, as this may help find a better word than 'value'.

According to this article the word preferred to 'value' is 'dignity'. Dignity is defined in contrast to price:

To have a price, as the economic metaphor suggests, is to have a value that can be compared to the value of other things with prices, such that it is intelligible to exchange without loss items of the same value. By contrast, to have dignity is to have a value such that comparisons of relative value become meaningless. Material goods are normally understood to have prices, but we persons have dignity: no substitution of one person for another can preserve exactly the same value, for something of incomparable worth would be lost (and gained) in such a substitution. (quoted from article)

Kant built his model of respect on this view. Respect is the minimal response to the recognition of dignity in each other, whereas Velleman expands this to posit that if respect is the minimal reponse, love is our maximal response to dignity.

To play with this idea: a tomato does not have dignity, it has a price. So, a tomato has a value, but not the same kind of value as a person. We generally do not love a tomato, that is, we generally do not respond to a tomato by giving of ourselves to it for its own good, as if the good of the tomato was an end in itself. Rather, we tend to consider the tomato as a means to an end. Its price is is thus an exchangeable value assigned to it that can function relative to other commodities that can also function as a means to an end. For this reason we speak of money as a means "do you have the means to buy that tomato?" Yet, while buying the tomato is the end for which money is the means, the acquiring of the tomato is only another means to another end. Typically, commodities are used as means to our own ends (self love). Commodities are objects that may be living or dead, but have no 'dignity', only a price.

There are of course many who would argue that some things we ascribe a price to indeed have dignity, only we fail to recognise their dignity, usually because our own self-love overrides our ability or even our concern to seek out the dignity in others. Thus some would argue that an animal has dignity. We ought to respect animals and perhaps even love them for their own sake. Some would say the life of animal is an end in itself. Even humans have been given a price and sold as slaves to become the means to other people's ends (and sadly this still happens today in monstrous proportions!). It is even claimed by some that "every man has his price". Thus, while dignity may be present, it is not always acknowledged. This results in objectification and ultimately in dehumanisation, the reduction of people to a means. People cease to enjoy people, and start to use them. In doing so they do not appreciate the dignity of the person. In the worst cases they do not even see a person there at all!

Love, in this respect, is the perception not of value as such, but of dignity. As we can see above, while dignity may be present love may not be the result. It depends on whether the dignity is seen, or more importantly, acknowledged. Things can get in the way of this: selfishness, greed, hatred, lust... (interesting where this list can elsewhere be seen).

In light of this, is there a way we can become more loving? Based on the above, we would need to avoid all the tendencies to objectify the other. We would thus need to identify those tendencies and the thought patterns that lead to them, as well as taking a good hard look at ourselves. We might need to meditate on people we might have reduced to means to our ends, and think about their dignity, and try to see them as an end in themselves. Apart from removing the alternatives to seeing dignity in people, we might do well to explore further where this dignity comes from and how we can recognise it in each person. Finally, if Kant and Velleman are right, then respect is the natural response to this dignity, love is the maximal response. We must thus go beyond the natural and give of ourselves for their own good.

what do you think?

Neighbours and friends - part 3

2009-01-28T19:34:00.001+11:00

Having looked at neighbour love and friend love can we find something common between the two, and can we eliminate what is peculiar to each, or must we count the peculiar aspects of each type of love as constituent to that love? And if so, does this mean that there is no single 'love' which may have various expressions or forms, but rather there are loves which are all different but bound together only categorically?

If neighbour love sees the value of a person, but does not know them, and may never get to know them, then this seems to be a basic loving response evoked by minimal stimulus, love from a glimpse. Yet friendship love seems to develop the glimpse into a relatively detailed awareness of the other, a perceived knowledge of who they are, where they come from, what they are about, and to some extent the belief that you can treat them more or less as your equal.

Thus friendship love appears to be the natural development of neighbour love, given proximity and communication over time. Yet the development from an acquaintance or a work partner to a friend requires not only proximity and time, but seeing the other as an equal. Should we find that those proximate to us over time, we view as lesser beings, whether in moral standard, or experience and wisdom, or in stature, or in strength, or even sometimes in health, we are less likely (whether right or wrong) to view them as equals who can contribute to us as much as we can to them. We might take the role of a mentor, or be helpful, but may never open ourselves up to them in the same way they might do to us.

I am not so concerned at this stage whether our appraisal of their relative equality is accurate (this seems to be an issue in its own right), but just to say that such an appraisal tends to influence how much we consider a person we have got to know as a friend, or an acquaintance, or just work mate, or even neighbour in the sense of a neighbour who we are not friends with.

In this sense, we can love any person as our neighbour without knowing much about them. We do not expect any reciprocation in this regard, we merely give of ourselves to them for their sake alone. Yet in a friendship we seem to evaluate whether that person can reciprocate our love; whether we can open ourselves up to them. Love becomes two way, and thus is open to some level of risk, since in opening ourselves up to be loved in response, we are making ourselves vulnerable.

At this stage, is friendship love more than just 'seeing value' in the other? Is there a second force or dynamic that comes into the picture? Have we stopped looking at love and started looking at relational dynamics? Or is this just the natural and necessary progression of love? If love is at its base level to see the value in the other and give of ourselves to them for their sake, then what happens if two people do that to each other? And how can we receive love if we do not open ourselves to it?

And yet, if friendship is the natural development of love as it becomes reciprocated, then why is it so much more selective? Are value appraisals valid or are they just a self preservation mechanism driven by other factors such as fear of rejection or fear of betrayal or hurt? Or are the fears more socially complex (and superficial) such as the fear of being seen with a particular person (fear of embarrassment) etc? Without fear, and without the things that cause us to have the fear, would we see everyone as a friend? Would we be able to love each person, but also open ourselves up to be loved by each person?

Finally, what is the net result of this progression (if it is actually a progression and not two separate entities)? If love is at its most basic a response to the value in another, then the progression of neighbour love to mutual friendship seems to suggest that love has another aspect: a goal. As love works and is reciprocated, it forms a relationship between the two parties that unites them loosely. It seems that this unity is loosely based around shared values, interests and experiences, and the strength of a friendship can often be correlated to such things as these as well as physical proximity and the duration and intensity of such proximity. Friends enjoy each other for their own sake.

When a friend stops reciprocating the love, we can feel rejected. When they cease to enjoy us for or own sake we can feel they are using us as a means to an end, rather than enjoying us as an end in itself. We expect friends to reciprocate the love we have for them. In this way we consider them equal and thus place a responsibility or expectation upon them to live in such a way. When they do not we do not consider them to be our friend, though we may still love them and care for them for their own sake. In this case they cease to be friends as such, and love reverts to neighbour love.

Perhaps as we explore romantic love, marital love and familial love we will find that love continues to progress towards a goal of union (or communion), though it is still based on the recognition of value in the other.

Not sure if I have hit the nail on the head with this post, but I think I have uncovered that love has more than one core aspect, namely that it has a source and a goal.

Snippet

2009-01-26T14:08:00.001+11:00

Was reading a book review in amazon.com and found this interesting snippet, which I plan to explore down the track:

My own view on love is that when we focus on the person we love, there is a oneness or unity. love is the ultimate dissolver of subject object boundaries. love is very oneness itself and without love, oneness is just not possible. the purpose of union is love. (Tom Corbett "Flaky")

I have been thinking about love and 'tracks' or paths, but am not yet ready to write on that topic. It seems though to be an important aspect of relationships.

Neighbours and friends - part 2

2009-01-23T21:00:00.002+11:00

Having looked at neighbour love, what is different between this and friendship love (which some might define as philia)?

Carol Simon has identified that one of the main characteristics of friendship love is that it is a love shared between 'equals.' That is, A friend is someone who you do not see as lesser than yourself, in which case your relationship would be like that of a parent to a child. Neither do you see them as greater than yourself, or you would be the 'child' and would not feel like you could offer them anything. They are not merely an acquaintance, or you would not be in a position to see them as lesser, greater or equal. A friend is therefore someone who you know, and who you consider to be on par with yourself. Some have depicted friends as two people walking down the same path side by side (though Carol Simon has a more nuanced understanding).

It seems to be generally held (at least by philosophers and psychologists) that friendship love is temporary, typically having correlations with physical proximity, and duration of shared experiences. We become friends with our class mates at school, but when we leave school we do not necessarily maintain our friendships. When we move to a new state or location, we often find new friends and start to 'drift apart' from our old friends, losing contact and thus needing to 'catch up' every now and then.

So a friend is an equal who shares experiences with us.

Another aspect of friendship is that it is a two-way relationship. We tend to feel like we are being 'used' by some people who would say they are friends but do not truly return the friendship. Such people may believe they are better than us, or that we are lesser than their other friends, or they may just be too absorbed in their own agenda to care about who we are and what our goals are (to use Simon's more loaded term, 'what our destiny is'). This suggests that a friend is someone who not only cares about their own agenda, but also cares about ours. And they are someone who we also care about, and who we will help out so that they can reach their goals. That is, as long as we believe their goals are good goals.

We have probably all known a friend who has frustrated us at some stage by a decision they have made which makes no sense. Their actions become 'out of character' and we cannot support them (or 'endorse' them to use Simon's words). It is as if at that stage we know what is best for them, and as they are unable to see it, we become 'higher' than them. It has been noted that if this situation continues for a period of time the friendship is at risk of failing, as we can no longer see the person as our equal. We might resolve to stick by them in their bad decision, but then when they cannot understand why they are now suffering and we know exactly why, we feel that we have lost the ability to 'be on the same page'. The friendship ceases to be what it was, and we might find ourselves wanting our 'old friend' back.

Some friendships do remain strong even over great distances and through the years. These kind seem to be more like the bonds of family, "no matter what I will stick by my friend." There have been many movies where friends will stick by each other through the bad decisions, because the choose friendship over rationality or righteousness or pain and even death. Interestingly, Jesus' sacrifice on the cross was considered the ultimate act of friendship love (which is interesting to note that this comes out in John's Gospel where so many people like to make a great distinction between phileo and agape (e.g. John 21)). In John 15 Jesus speaks of his own friendship love when he says "greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." (verse13). He goes on to say "I have called you friends for everything I learned from my father I have made known to you." and "you are my friends if you do what I command." This is an interesting passage in light of our understanding of friendship as 'equals who share life together.' Can we really be friends with Jesus? can we really be regarded as equal to the Son of God? Does he see us friends, equals that he can share his life with and 'everything he has learned from the father'? John notes the language of friend's shared experiences, and that Jesus shared our humanity and thus lowered himself to become equal with us. He left his father and became one of us, so he can truly be called a friend. I think this is quite significant. He is able to walk our road and share our experiences, to empathise with us and to walk in our shoes. One might wonder, when he calls us to follow him, does he actually call us to walk beside him? And yet, friendship with Jesus is qualified by conditions: "if you do what I command", and verse 10 says "if you obey my commands you will remain in my love, just as i have obeyed my father's commands and remain in his love". We never exclusively have a friendship with Jesus. He is our friend, but he is also our Lord and King.

But in the same way, Paul asks us to be willing to 'associate with people of low position' (Romans 12:16). Is he asking us to love them as our neighbours or as a parent-child relationship, or is he asking us to leave behind our so called lofty position and become true friends with them?

So then, is friendship love a love that not only sees that which evokes the loving response, but that which loves back, in which there is mutuality and in the bond of returned love, equality. Friendship is the safe haven of love's gaze into each other that enables us to share each other's experiences, hopes, wishes, dreams, goals, losses, failings... lives. And yet we have seen that this can be limited to what dreams, goals and interests that we have in common, that we see as equal and shareable. As friends start to follow different pursuits, they can often grow apart, the bond of love does not need to hold them together, but in so far as they walk together, their love looks our for each other and supports each other. When one falls the other can help them up.

There are obviously many more aspects to friendship love that tie into the same (elusive) centre. Why is it that when we split up with our best friend we are left with questions and doubts about our own identity? As if what we have shared of ourselves has been rejected, and thus we are forced to decide whether that was because we are in some way inadequate, or if it was due to some inadequacy on the friend's part. This is why there is either great hurt at such times, or even great hatred.

There are many more aspects too, which I wont explore right now. But I do wonder, what friendship love and neighbour love have in common. now that I have explored what both are, I will compare and contrast them next.

Neighbours and friends - part 1

2009-01-21T19:00:00.001+11:00

Is it possible to find that which is common in different kinds and expressions of love?, and can we grasp love's essence from they have in common? Let's look at two kinds and see.

Carol Simon has given a good treatment to the topic of neighbour love, as I have read. Drawing from Simone Weil's meditation on the parable of the Good Samaritan, she understands love of neighbour to be the perception of something worth loving in the neighbour. The lover may know nothing about them, not their name, or their history, but they 'see' them and know that this person has a destiny given by God, and, through imagination can envisage ways to promote and nurture that destiny in the neighbour, even at their own cost (i.e. renouncing their own plans, and giving of their time and money etc). This love may be a momentary reaching out, but can have life-long consequences. It can be as simple as a smile or hello to a stranger that lets them know they are not alone, to the offer of a lift, or a job, or a meal. It is helping someone in need, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked and providing shelter for the homeless. It is caring for the sick, and defending the helpless. This is something that is very important in the Torah and Israel is severely rebuked in the prophets for not having this kind of love. Jesus also warns his disciples that those who do not show this kind of love have no place in his kingdom.

Is this kind of love based on some kind of 'seeing' the other, a perception of their 'preciousness' or perhaps their need? While this idea resonates a lot with me, I see its dangers, as has been pointed out by Augustine and Anders Nygren. What happens if we cannot see? what happens if we cannot find? What happens in a world where suffering is swept under the carpet, in distant countries where we are not personally confronted with the agony and starvation that our neighbours are enduring and perishing in? There is a modern parable of a man who had stalled his brand new Ferarri on the middle of a rail crossing. While reaching for the ignition to restart his car, and while hearing the crossing bells start to ring he notices a little boy has a foot caught in the tracks not far off. Seeing the train approaching at fast speed he is faced with the decision: 'Do I leave my car here and rescue the boy? Can I get it started in time, move it and still save him? Can I assume he will free himself in time? what will I do?' The more he thought about it the more his time to pursue the latter two options ran out. His eyes fixated on the boy and though he did not know the boy at all, he knew that he was worth more than his expensive car. He left his car and ran to the boy's aid. He managed to remove his foot from the stuck shoe just in time before the train arrived, but he was not able to run back to his car and move it too!

This man was willing to give up a car worth quarter of a million $$$ to rescue a boy he didn't know simply because he saw him in real need. We can ask ourselves what our response would be in the same situation. We can ask if our response would have been different if other people had been near by, such as the case where a woman in a crowded apartment complex was raped and stabbed repeatedly over several hours, screaming out for help the whole time, but not a single person came to her aid before she died. When the police surveyed the other tenants, they all assumed someone else was already gone to help her. Without seeing the truth they were not compelled by love to at least seek out the truth. And yet again, though we might have answered the first question with a very confident 'yes', a car is worth nothing in comparison to a boy's life, and yet around 40,000 children die every single day from starvation related diseases. We do not sell our cars to save those children. We are reminded from time to time that they exist and that the situation is real, but we are not always compelled to act. It is often when we see an image of a malnourisheed child that we are most moved to give. I still remember the image of an incredibly thin child on the movie Beyond Borders which I commented on a while back. There really is something in the seeing, but then is love constrained by what can be seen? (cf. "If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. " 1 John 4:20).

From the story of the Good Samaritan, is a neighbour defined as anyone we see in need? Or is a neighbour simply anyone who is in need? Is it love of our neighbour that causes us to pay our taxes? The knowledge that our money is paying the medical bills of someone in need, and the rent of someone without a job? Or because it is an impersonal transaction, can it be a way of "giving all I have to the poor, but not have love..." (1 Corinthians 13). And yet, if we specifically give money to a person, it is much easier to recognise and affirm that this is an act of love.

Is love blind, or must it first see?

I took part in a psychology experiment as part of my 1st year psych studies at Melbourne Uni. The experiment 'exposed' a group of us to images and stories of people suffering torture and inhumane violence, coercion and oppresion in Dili (around the time of the Dili massacres). They then offered several ways for us to respond and asked what we would choose (if anything). to pose their thesis as a question, they were wondering whether when people are shown need or injustice, and if they believe they are in a position to make a difference to that situation, are they compelled by a sense of responsibility to act? (cf. "If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?" 1 John 3:17). Again, the response is indeed a response, to 'seeing' something, or being confronted by something. The something typically has to be personal (another person suffering or in need). I remember seeing groups of activists passing out flyers at Melbourne Uni all the time, for various causes, and none of these ever really arrested me, but that psych experiment left a lasting impression!

The love of neighbour sees need, or sees injustice against a person, and is compelled to act.

but what does the love of a friend see?
Stay tuned...

Love derived from its types

2009-01-20T20:22:00.001+11:00

I have explored three ways of looking at love: (1) seeing something precious in the beloved that causes us to respond in love, namely to protect, nurture, enjoy, give to and promote that beautiful precious thing for its own sake, (2) choosing to love another person regardless of whether we perceive any beauty or value in them, and (3) seeing the person's need for God's presence, and God himself welling up in us to be poured out to the beloved. These are three quite different views, but all have their overlapping aspects. Can we continue to push ahead and get to the heart of love itself?

Would another approach be to explore the types of love, as Caroline Simon has in her book? She explores neighbour love, friendship love, romantic love and marital love (that is as far as I have got so far so I am not sure what other types she has detected). Is there a possibility of seeing what these different types of love have in common, as well as what the three understandings above have in common, and perhaps derive an understanding of love's essence from that? I shall try to do so after considering what I have read. Stay tuned...

Echoes in the dark

2009-01-19T19:49:00.001+11:00

Oh, for a conversation partner.

Love as a substance

2009-01-18T19:26:00.001+11:00

Just to go on another tangent, I was watching an episode of the X-Files the other night called Milagro, in which love was described as a substance not of this earth, which humans are unable to create, and the only power we have over it is to destroy it.

Playing with this imagery, one might imagine that love is 'something' that comes from God (1 John 4:7-21, especially verse 10). One might envisage that love is an unseen or spiritual 'substance' that only manifests as we, through faith, pour it out to another (Faith, hope, love). God is love (1 John 4:16) and all love comes from God, and God indeed commands that we love one another just as he loves us. So, using this imagery, can we ascertain what is actually happening when we love?

Perhaps God's own self-giving essence (ousia) is 'poured out' (to death) into the beloved in a kind of perichoretic fashion. Perhaps what we see in the beloved which drives us to love is not actually anything of value (as I have said earlier that it is the perception of this preciousness which evokes our loving response), but rather we see the need, the absence of wholeness that yearns to be whole, that yearns to be filled with what only God can provide: himself. Perhaps loving is the completion of the other with God's all-sufficient indwelling. The completion of the God-shaped hole. Or to put it into metaphors that I like to play with, to put God into the image of God.

The classical definition of love

2009-01-17T16:52:00.004+11:00

Not long after my last post I continued reading further in The disciplined heart and was confronted with what is considered the classical Christian understanding of love, or to be more accurate, loves. Christians have traditionally drawn a distinction between three types of love: eros, philia and agape. Some of the more prominent champions of this view are Anders Nygren, Martin Luther and Søren Kierkegaard. They posit that eros and phileo are natural human loves, and therefore lesser loves than agape, which they believe is the word used for God's love of humanity. I found it interesting to read Simon's rendition of this classical view, especially just after reading a view that resonated with my own. So I thought I would interact with those views also.

The classical view understands what I have been defining as love as having characteristics of eros and philia. Eros is defined as passionate love (usually romantic love). It's central characteristic is desire, desire for the beloved. It sees in the beloved something it desires, and seeks to acquire that something for itself. In some ways it could be referred to as the souls attempt to transcend itself, to find completion in another. Eros is never used in the Bible, and thus never used to express God's love toward us, but some theologians believe it is apt to represent our reaching for God, as Augustine says "we are restless until we find our rest in him." As Eros can be understood as our reaching beyond ourselves for something to 'complete' us, it is typically seen as an egocentric love, a love that consumes, and is therefore unworthy of the love Christ commands us to have. It also makes sense, that if this is the definition of eros then it is not appropriate for God, who is complete in himself and thus does not desire anything from us.

Philia is typically understood as friendship love, the bond of two friends, and is characterised by affection. It is a love that sees the beloved as an equal and sticks by them so long as they continue to be perceived as equal. In contrast, the classical view implores that agape is higher than both eros and philia because agape loves in spite of what it sees. Agape alone can be called Christian because it alone can love the unlovely, the unlovable, regardless of whether any value can be perceived, and regardless of whether there is in fact any value at all in the beloved. Agape is characterised as a disinterested love, without motive, without regard for one's self, without necessarily having any affection or emotion, not as a response to the other, but as an initiating act, performing loving deeds for the good of the other, but not because of the other. It is a love that is done by choice, by will and because God commands it.

While this understanding of love(s) does have resonances with the Bible, I do not think it is without some problems too. If Agape is a love by choice and has no origin in the beloved, then to love a person is not to communicate anything to them about themselves, rather it communicates to them something about ourselves. Agape does not say "I accept you, you are precious," it can only say "I will do good to you." I think there are many Christians who will read that and say this is how it should be, because we are all sinful and thus should indeed not be accepted, but rather, by grace good should be done to us, not because we deserve it, but because of the nature of the one who does love us. And indeed this is why the classical view is the classical view. And yet, it does not resonate with me, neither am I convinced it is a necessary explanation, as if there are no other possibilities or models for understanding love.

Having said that, I am not very mature in my view, and find it hard to articulate, still hoping that a progressive scan image will become clearer and more defined with each passing.

If agape does not see value in the beloved, and indeed does not care, does it see the beloved at all? Is the love (however we must redefine its essence under this definition) really directed to the beloved, or is it like a wine which, as it is poured our of the bottle, forms its own glass (can't remember where I read that image). If agape creates value in the beloved, then is the object of agape actually the beloved, or is it that thing which it itself created, which is distinct from the so called beloved. Does it in fact say, "you have no value, so I will create something valuable and pour myself into that." ?

If agape does not see the other person, but acts on the choice of the lover, what governs the choice? Is it arbitrary? Will we love whom we will love, and hate whom we will hate? I see another resonance to one model of Christianity here, a model which, again, does not resonate with me!

If agape does not see the other person but loves in response to God's command, then what is the 'love'? The love itself must ultimately be defined by what it does, since it is merely the result of a decision. The decision is to act, and the deed becomes the love. But then why does Paul speak of being able to do love's work without actually having the love itself: If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. (1 CORINTHIANS 13:3)

To me this indicates that the act is not the love, but that love can be the motive for the act. If love is the motive, then perhaps the classical definition is not quite right. Indeed we are commanded to love one another as Christ has loved us (perfect tense, not past tense). And indeed this would mean to love the unlovely, the sinful, the evil people. And what if we cannot see any 'value' in the beloved, are we unable to love them by my definition. Are they dead, needing a creative love to resurrect them? Or is it that we love them in faith that 'what you do to the least of these you are doing to me'? Or by faith that they are made in the image of God and therefore there IS absolutely value in there, we just need to be patient to see it.

And yet, if we can love by faith, without seeing that thing which evokes our love, then how can love be defined as the perception of that thing, from which all else flows?

This exploration is finding many challenges. Carol Simon sees the role of imagination as indispensable to love overcoming a fallen humanity in which perceiving the beloved's destiny can be an all but impossible task. Paul sees love as bound to faith and hope in a way that neither can be separated from the other. How can we love someone for whom we see no hope? How can we see hope if we have no faith? Why would we even care if we had no love?

But again, it all comes back to what actually is the love?

Love, faith and imagination

2008-12-29T13:51:00.002+11:00

I wish I could be saying right now that I am back and refreshed after a long break from blogging (about 3 months now), but I am actually feeling a bit sick and anything from refreshed, despite being on holidays. But I thought I would write again anyway. So let's get back onto thoughts of love.

In my last post I spoke of love as a sense; something which can comprehend in another that which evokes our love. I have been reading a book by Caroline Simon (still) which talks about the role of imagination in love. She seems quite influenced by a single thought from Simone Weil about the good Samaritan who actually stopped to help the person bashed and bloodied on the side of the road.

"One of the two is only a little piece of flesh naked, inert, and bleeding beside a ditch; he is nameless; no one knows anything about him. those who pass by scarcely notice it, and a few minutes afterward they do not even know that they saw it. Only one stops and turns his attention toward it. The actions that follow are just the automatic effect of this moment of attention. The attention is creative. But at the moment when it is engaged it is a renunciation. this is true, at leas, if it is pure. The man accepts to be diminished by concentrating on an expenditure of energy, which will not extend his own power but will only give existence to a being other than himself, who will exist independently of him. Still more, to desire the existence of the other is to transport himself into him by sympathy, and as a result, to have a share in the state of inert matter which is his." (From Waiting for God by Simone Weil).

This excerpt points to the moment of comprehension in which the Samaritan beheld the man and had love for him (pity/sympathy). The actions which followed were the response of love. Caroline Simon believes that the human imagination plays a role here also, enabling us to see beyond what is visible on the surface, to the thing of immense value which cannot be seen. She would possibly say that imagination plays more the role of seeing what could be rather than seeing what is, or to use words closer to her words, comprehending that this person has a story and a destiny rather than merely seeing what is.

There are so many aspects in this little excerpt that need to be explored: what is it that causes the Samaritan to stop and pay more attention? What is is he sees that evokes the response of love? Is there anything particularly Christian about this? What role does imagination have in this? What role does faith have? In what way is his loving response a 'renunciation'?

To provide a little more background into the story of the Samaritan a few things need to be noted: (1) Jesus was telling this story to answer the question of 'who is my neighbour' just after stating that the second greatest commandment was to love our neighbours as ourselves. (2) In the story two Jewish holy men walked by without stopping; a priest and a Levite. It seems these men were prevented from loving the man due to their conceptions of law and holiness, which prevented them from defiling themselves with anything unclean (e.g. blood). What they saw in the man was something that would defile them and render them unable to perform their holy duties. But the Samaritan was already despised by the Jews. Samaritans held a somewhat common religious background to the Jews and maintained copies of the Pentateuch (first five books of the Old Testament) which they held as scripture, but they were a mixed race (i.e. impure as sons of Abraham). I am not sure if the Samaritan would be considered defiled by his understanding of the law by helping the bleeding man. By defiling himself there is certainly a 'renunciation' involved in acting in love. Even without defiling himself there is a sacrifice of time and money; a renunciation of his immediate plans and some of his possessions. We would say that there is often sacrifice in love, though it does not always seem like a sacrifice to give to someone else for their own sake.

To recast the story in today's terms, we might find the robbed man replaced by a homeless drug addict with his thumb out on the side of a road looking for a lift. Many cars with 'good' people drive right on by; they have to keep their kids safe in the back seat, they don't have any money on them to give him, he looks dangerous, and he could have hepatitis for all they know. In any case they are on their way to church or a family function and don't want to be late. While all the cars go past a taxi stops. The bum apprehensively opens the door and looks in to see the Arab driver looking back at him. There is a moment of silence as they look at each other and the bum explains he doesn't have any money for a fare. The driver explains there will be no fare and asks him where he wants to go. "To the city, where I can find shelter and food." Instead the driver takes him to his own house, lets him use his shower, gives him some of his own clothes, a meal and a bed. Introduces him to his family, and asks him about his story.

The bulk of people saw a dirty bum, worried about germs and violence, and felt indifferent or incapable of helping. But one man was willing to wear the cost (renunciation), whatever it might have been. Why? What did he see in the bum that others did not see? (or is my definition of love wrong and it is nothing to do with perceiving something that evokes a loving response). the taxi driver might have been a muslim, and thus his love was not 'Christian'. Does that matter? Is there a difference between Christian and non-Christian love. I know there are some (such as Bonhoeffer) who would say yes.

Is it by faith that we 'assume' there is something to love in some people? Is it by imagination that we 'create' something to love, or see what could be? Is it by mere arbitrary choice that we choose to love a person regardless of what we see (and somehow not manufacture the works of love without having the actual love)? Or is it by faith that we assume there is something to love in each person and therefore take the time to search for it, that we might evoke a genuine response of love? There are still some who would say we love because Christ first loved us; because he commands us to, and for no other reason. But I ask, what is it you are doing when you are loving this way? What is the love?

Perhaps there is a distinctly Christian love, as I am sure Caroline Simon will point out as I continue to read her book. She uses 'imagination' where I use 'faith', to acknowledge that each person has a destiny, she seems to be pointing to the position that it is the perception of the destiny that is the thing which evokes our love response. To put it another way, our destinies are given by God, it is his creative and redemptive work in us, and as we perceive God at work in the other, God-in-us joins in to complete his work. As we perceive God working in another (Christian or non Christian) we work with him. This is love's creative aspect, this is its Christian aspect, it is where faith and imagination are required (and hope, but I will look at that another time). It is where we need to see beyond what is plainly visible to that which is invisible, and to that which may not yet exist except in the realms of pure potential.

Here ends the chapter!

...on to love

2008-09-18T20:51:00.001+10:00

It has been a while since my last confession...

I have avoided this topic for quite some time now, feeling unqualified to write anything down on it. For me this is the most important topic, at the heart of the gospel, at the heart of human-human relationships and divine-human relationships. It is the topic at the heart of life. My plan is to just start writing, and refine the thoughts in successive passes and posts. Hopefully things will come to a point of clarity. In many ways the previous posts were a prolegomena to this, since all I am posting is words.

First up, a tentative definition:

LOVE:
noun. A spiritual sense by which we can perceive reality in a way that approximates God's perception.
verb. The act of sensing reality through God's eyes.

I have thought for some years now on the definition of love. From 'feeling' to 'verb' to 'regard for the other' to 'will that seeks flourishing of life'. From looking at loves expressions to its effects. I am coming to the thought that love is a sense for several reasons:

(1) Some years ago I heard tony Campolo speak of love as seeing through someone's eyes into their heart, and their heart reaching right back through to your own and gripping it. I found this to be a profound insight. To run with this idea we might imagine that, despite looking at many people each day as we walk past them in the street, there are times in our lives when we look at a person and find something in them that compels us to love them. What we think is our love for them is actually our response to what we see. But to identify love as the response it to have something that is mechanistic - simply present the goods before our eyes and we cannot help but love. In reality there is more to it than that.

Take for example the person we once loved but now cannot for some reason. Usually in these cases something happened that hurt us, or made us see something 'ugly', 'unlovely' in that person, something that we couldn't 'overlook'. Why is it that we look upon a drug addict, for example, or an adulterer, and we see a person who we cannot trust, a person with whom something is wrong and who we should maintain a certain 'safe' distance from? At the same time we look upon a cute little baby and can be filled with affection? Is this another mechanistic reaction, like instinct? Or is there more to it? I think the key to this scenario is the word forgiveness. A baby is often a helpless person, totally dependent, quite innocent, vulnerable, non-dangerous, a fresh 'heart' craving our love and compelling us to respond in love. It is easy for us to perceive a baby through the eyes of love. But drug addicts, adulterers, violent or aggressive people, even depressed people we find that we hold something against them, something that prevents us from loving them. Only when we can truly forgive them do we find that we can see them again through the 'eyes' of love. Only then can we deem them as 'worthy' to receive our love (again taking love as the response for the moment).

So, if love can be hindered by unforgiveness (and transgression before that), and if in the absence of those things (as well as the absence of our own fear and insecurities) we can freely look upon others with loving eyes, then love might not be the response at all, but the very act of perceiving that which illicits the various 'loving' responses.

(2) People often think they love a person soon after they have met them, but after they get to know them more they find that the person they loved was a figment of their imagination. To truly love a person you have to know that person truly (warts and all). This requires (a) that they reveal their true selves, and (b) that we are able to perceive and appreciate what is revealed. Thus the saying 'to know you is to love you', has a bit of truth in it. On the flip side of this coin, it is often only when we spend some time to get to know the real person that we find the fears and apprehensions we once had are not justified, and we often come to find a new respect for people who we might have dismissed on first impression. Love delights in the truth.

(3) I have never been convinced by the statement 'love is a verb, defined by its actions'. 1 Corinthians 13 speaks of many actions that a person can do for another, but they can all be done without love and thus amount to nothing. For the Apostle Paul as he writes to his church, the only thing that is important is the love itself. If you have love then the actions will flow, but to manufacture loving actions without having the actual love, this misses the point and creates artificial fruit without a tree. Therefore love must be something other than its expressions, it must be a source, a fountain. And yet what is the source, the point from which all flows?

(4) If love is the perceiving of something lovable in another person (or object?) then what governs this? Why don't we love everyone? Why don't we see something in everyone that compels us to love in the same way we look at so few people and are compelled to love them? What is the difference between one person and another, or is the difference inside us? In so many ways the things that stop us looking through the lens of love can be traced back to (a) unforgiveness, (b) fear and (c) selfishness.

(5) There are definitions of love that centre around the response we have when we perceive something loving, and definitions that approach love by love's goal, but this troubles me because if love's goal is to seek and act towards the good (or 'flourishing') of the beloved, then what exactly is that 'good'? In what way can love determine what course of action will result in good or flourishing, since we have such limited knowledge?

Therefore, the most workable starting point I can think of is the point at which a loving response is evoked in a person, that moment of realisation, of encounter, of confrontation with something beautiful, something of worth, something that compels our hearts to respond. The ability to attune this sense, to seek out such an encounter in each person we come across, to see that which is worth loving, this is the discipline of love. It must come down to a way of perceiving. So, is love a discipline, a commitment to 'know' each other? Or is it still the response to that knowing? If you see a baby and are filled with affection and a sense to care for and protect the baby, but then do nothing to stop a dog from attacking it, did you really love them? But in reality, if you really did have that encounter and had the realisation of love for them, would you do nothing?

I know there will be some Christians out there that would say love cannot work in this way. That we are all full of sin and so there is not anything of intrinsic worth in us to love, and that God loves us only by grace, though we don't deserve it. I disagree with this kind of thinking. But I think the argument comes down to the very nature of love itself, and how it is defined. I would dare to say that people who hold the view that there is nothing in us worth loving would need to hold the definition of love that restricts love to its actions, and not to its motives, which I think logically is an incomplete definition. Any attempt to get to the heart of love must comprehend its motives and causes. The best offering for the view that there is nothing worthy of love in us is the view that love 'creates' worth in the beloved - it creates something that is worthy of its own love. I'm not sure about that. It has merit but it just doesn't seem right. If I love someone, they already exist, and I love them for who they already are, not something I or my love has created. And if I was loving something my love has created, it would not be that person I was loving, but rather my own creation. To truly love a person, we must connect with what is there.

To be continued...

Reflections from the other side

2008-08-19T19:48:00.001+10:00

There's this blonde out for a walk. She comes to a river and sees another blonde on the opposite bank. "Yoo-hoo!" she shouts, "How can I get to the other side?"
The second blonde looks up the river then down the river and shouts back, "You ARE on the other side."

The truth of it

2008-08-18T22:31:00.001+10:00

Continuing my exploration of words and reality, it is time to consider how 'truth' comes into play. I was watching The Bourne Supremacy the other night, and came across a scene where an assassin who was thought to have killed Jason Bourne was summoned out of the nightclub he was lounging in to the door of the car of his boss. The window is wound down and the boss says 'your phone was turned off, what the hell is going on?'

'You told me I could have the month off." He replied.

"You told me Jason Bourne was dead." And he wound up the window and drove off.

A short and simple transaction of just a few words, but there was so much in them. Everything had been rested on the words the assassin had previously told him. He took his words as reality ("as gospel") and based a whole future path on that. But the assassin's words were not true, they did not reflect the reality, and thus the two characters integrated their lives and decisions into a fictional reality.

What struck me was the importance of being told the truth in order to make correct judgments. We need to be told words that we can depend on. We need words that are true, that we can make decisions on, that we can trust. We make decisions that can affect the rest of our lives, and those decisions are often based on the words we receive.

"We can only go on the information we have."

What the assassin said was actually true as far as he knew it, but he didn't know the whole story. If I go back to my previous example of the various news articles about the real estate market and interest rates, they are largely making claims based on limited information. They do not know the whole picture and therefore are incapable of making a truthful claim (truth-full). As far as they can report a trend, that trend may be true, but it is not the whole story. Any claim deduced from this cannot be considered truth.

And so, in a world of people with limited ability to grasp the 'whole story', it would seem the truth is inaccessible. If nobody can know the whole picture, if we each are given but a piece of the puzzle, we are left to guess how it fits into the larger puzzle. Perhaps indeed we ourselves are that piece of the puzzle, and we all wonder how we ourselves fit in. And yet, every single day we find ourselves trusting the claims and words of other people; people who are just as limited as us. When we face it, we are confronted with the fact that faith is necessary to do anything in this world.

I am sure we would all love to have a reliable truth that we can put our faith in. Words from someone who does not have the limitations we have, who knows the full picture, and who can therefore speak the truth. And I am sure that, logically, those words might sound very different to what we might have formulated from our own limited perspective, just as it would be quite strange for that assassin to have shot Jason Bourne and seen his car career over the bridge and into the water and then to say "I didn't kill him at all", and for that to be a true statement.

It is funny that when we think about it, we can accept that truth might even sound foolish to our ears, and yet still be true. The Bible claims that Jesus is the truth (John 14:6). It claims to be words from a God who knows the whole story and can thus speak words of truth, reliable words to put our trust in. And yet so many people find it foolish to consider those words as true. My heart longs for a true word to trust in. Such a word, by necessity, can only come from God.

Tell a man there 4 billion stars in the sky and he will believe you. Tell him a seat has wet paint and he will have to touch it.

back to words

2008-08-07T13:07:00.004+10:00

I didn't get any bites on my questions about what our church is up to, so I thought I would continue to meander along in my exploration of words and the communication of reality. I have had to step back this week and reflect on how this is affecting me personally, as I have noticed just how much we are reliant on words for our understanding of reality. To tell the story:

Adrianna and I are looking to buy a house, and this is a big commitment as many would know. Houses are very overpriced and unaffordable at the moment and have been for some time now, but we really want to get out and have a place of our own.

As we are in this space, we find that we are particularly attentive to news articles about what is happening in the housing market and interest rates and the economy in general, because these things affect affordability. Do we jump in as soon as we can because prices are going up, or do we wait because prices are coming down and will continue to do so.

I have found that the media is just as unreliable in reporting on housing as they are on any other topic. On the same day, one article will say house prices have come down 2% in the last month, another will say they are likely to come down 10% in the next year, another will say 'but wait, the reserve bank is going to cut interest rates so that will change', and then another will say, 'but maybe they aren't going to cut interest rates because employment figures show a growth in employment. All of these articles paint pictures of reality, but are not necessarily accurate or true, even though they are based on facts. They have the power to influence decisions, perhaps we should wait and see if prices settle and/or come down, and in the meanwhile build our capital so as to pay off less interest when we do buy. And perhaps this will lead to more houses coming onto the market, and thus more choice, as it starts to become a buyers market. But then, there are the reports that housing prices will continue to rise because of population growth and immigration which keeps the demand high.

And so, day by day, the facts we are given to make our decisions on are fed to us electronically with words and statistics, which paint pictures, which limit the options and set our focus and bias.

Alternatively, we could monitor the prices ourselves and look at trends, but we don't have access to what houses are actually selling for (just what they are listed for) unless we pay money for reports. So reality is mediated to us by various conflicting sources, and we have to make significant decisions from that information. This shows the power of the media to shape reality as they influence decisions of many people and shape the market. This is even more pronounced int he share markets, where people use mediated information to buy and sell, and rash decisions can be made, and crowd mentalities can be witnessed. The person who can 'mediate' reality and shape decisions has a lot of power indeed.

How do we assess what is 'true', how can we determine which article is 'reliable'? We have established that words have power to shape and influence our understanding of reality, and thus our decisions to interact with and change reality. We also know that if words conflict with other words about what that reality is then we need to decide what is true and reliable over what is false and misleading.

This problem brings us back to the garden of Eden once more, where Adam and Eve made a significant decision based on the words of a talking snake (yeh, nothing suspect there), which interpreted the reality before their eyes and 'deceived' them. As opposed to the true and trustworthy words of the God who created them, they chose to believe the creature instead.

On what basis can we trust the claims of one person over another? Or should we treat all such words with caution and seek to learn everything the hard way, through experience? In the case of the real estate issue, I do acknowledge that it is largely an area of speculation and trends, nothing is certain and it is all dependent on market forces, which are highly unpredictable. If this is the case, then is the speculations no better than the fortune tellers? Is it like the Oracle in the the film The Matrix, who asked Neo if he still would have knocked over the vase if she hadn't warned him about it?

I think we should wait until we find something we like for a price we are willing to pay, and just keep an eye on if prices are starting to come up again.

The purpose of the pew

2008-08-03T12:38:00.004+10:00

Our church congregation is trying to become more outward looking and not so much focussed on ourselves. We are adopting a metaphor of 'the front line of ministry' where we are to understand the Sunday morning services as a time of equipping us for mission on the 'front line'. The front line is defined as the place where the kingdom of God meets the kingdom of the world, i.e. our neighbours, workplaces, schools, kinder, shops, friends. In these places we are ambassadors for the kingdom of God. The place is described as the front line because it is taken to be hostile: people generally do not want to know or hear about Jesus Christ.

And so, if the front line is not the Sunday service, just as the church is not the building but the people, then what is the purpose of the Sunday service, and how is this reflected in what transpires during that time?

Historically, the Sunday service was a place where Christ is proclaimed, sinners are called to repentance, the gospel is preached, and Christians rejoice in song and commune with each other over the Lord's supper. The gospel is the most appropriate sermon and is to be drawn from or pointed to from any scripture passage that is being expounded, for this is God's call to the nations.

But if the Sunday service is not the front line, then is the gospel the most appropriate message to be shared there? While it is true that it is always edifying for a Christian to be taken back to the cross and its transformational power for their lives, in many ways if the congregation is made up of Christians behind the front line, then this message is literally preaching to the converted, and to what extent does it equip them for life beyond the cross (many Christians will wonder if there even is such a thing?).

In my understanding preaching (that is, proclaiming the gospel of Jesus Christ) is something to be done to people who do not know Christ, and its purpose is to reveal him and his love to them, requiring a response in their part. Teaching, on the other hand, is something done to Christians and is about discipleship and development of the Christian life. If our understanding of the Sunday service is that it is about equipping the Christian for the Christian life and ministry and mission, then teaching is perhaps more appropriate at the pulpit than preaching.

Similarly, what function does our singing have, and the communion, and the congregational prayer? I believe these all do/can work into the service of equipping, but is it clear in what way this is so? And in this same line, how interactive should the Sunday service be? Should it even be called a service? We have come so far as to refrain from saying ‘we are going to church’, which can evoke unhelpful images. What does saying ‘welcome to our service’ evoke? To me it suggests that people sit (or stand) in their pews and attend a service put on by a ‘ministry team’. If the Sunday meeting is a place of equipping, is this a service at all, or is it a ‘meeting’, or ‘gathering’, or ‘assembling’ (all verbs), or perhaps it is a ‘workshop’ or a ‘school’ (to use some nouns) or could we describe it as a ‘re-centering’, ‘re-focussing’, ‘re-membering’ (putting it in terms of desired effect). As I am exploring the power of words in shaping people’s encounter with reality, I wonder how much our words at church end up leading to confusion and mixed messages.

So what should we call Sunday mornings?

Should we move more to teaching than preaching?

Are we restricted to passage exposition (and a one-way message for that matter [no pun intended])?

How interactive should the equipping be?

Are there more useful methods of equipping than singing reading and hearing?

Three qualifications: (1) I am not trying to explore a general ecclesiology here, but to reflect specifically on what our congregation is up to and how we are going about it, and (2) I am also aware that the Sunday meeting is not the only place/venue/format of equipping that our congregation employs, and (3) that to some extent, as long as the Sunday meeting is open to anyone, there will be non-Christians participating and new Christians also, in which case it is not strictly a ‘behind the lines’ meeting.

More on the realities of words

2008-07-19T15:46:00.001+10:00

I have been thinking more about words and reality; both the objective reality that we accept by faith is concretely outside of ourselves, and also the subjective reality that appears to be located inside our awareness and 'occurs' as we subjects interface to and interact with that objective reality. And I have been thinking about how the objective reality seems so often to be mediated to us via words, and some would say even when we 'experience' that reality first hand, we still interpret and remember the experience through words. If this is true, then words constitute our interpreted reality.

The extent to which or words are accurate symbols of a common or shared experience of reality is the extent to which they can be used to communicate (and to 'share') that same reality to others. But let a Protestant try to talk to a Jehovah's Witness about the idea of the 'soul' for instance, and the meaning of the word is so different between the two that communication cannot happen, and the two cannot meaningfully share their experience and understanding of reality. I would say there are a lot of words, phrases and concepts that have entirely different meanings to many people, making communication of the deeper things quite difficult. And, thinking back to Nowen's epilogue, if someone has not encountered/experienced the reality behind our words then they will not have any meaning to them at all.

I am trying to think of the implications of this. Here are a few I can think of (just throwing thoughts out there, rather than stating categorically as a mature view):

If words are symbols that can themselves have different meanings to different people, we cannot assume that people will understand even if we formulate our sentences very well
We need to listen very carefully to people.
We need to listen respectfully and if something does not make sense we ought not to assume the person is wrong, but we should try to arrive at a full understanding of just what they are saying first.
When speaking ourselves, particularly of serious things, or things that go beyond the surface, we should probably try to speak in images that paint pictures for people to see what we are talking about.
If the images themselves are ineffective to communicate, we may need to 'show' the person experientially
If images are mere symbols (or metaphors) that point beyond themselves to a reality (or evoke that reality in the mind of another), then the words are not the reality itself. Therefore a statement is not true in and of itself, but only as it points someone truly to reality. To elaborate, just as a photo cannot capture the entirety of that which it portrays (without remainder), our words will never capture and fully embody the reality to which they point.
If 6. is true, then statements that seem to be in conflict can both be true, even if they oppose each other, because they are not designed to be absolutely true but to subjectively point to something (or an aspect of something) in reality.
A statement can only be said to be true when communicated in a way where the recipient understands the same meaning of the words as the speaker, and the speaker's meaning reflects the reality to which the statement points.
Theologies, dogmas, traditions, philosophies are all models; word-constructs of reality, and thus point to the reality but do not 'own' it as such. One way of putting this is that statements are images, or 'idols'. They are not the thing itself. Therefore, statements can have the risk of being treated as idols.
If 9. is true, then we need to be careful about our relationship to statements, and ensure that we love/worship that which is behind them rather than the correct word formulation.
Having said 10., words and statements are necessary to share.
By evoking an image from words we are actually creating a reality for a person to experience in their imagination, to 'see in their mind's eye' which will, hopefully, provide the encounter necessary to fill the words with meaning.

I think back to the parables of scripture. Jesus spoke of the kingdom of God in parables. He spoke to a people who had already defined the meaning of the kingdom of God according to shared (though varied) expectations and hopes. Given this, and given that Jesus came to (re)define what the Kingdom of God was, he was unable to use those words (or the word Messiah) to convey the meaning and reality he came to teach and proclaim. So he used parables to 'throw beside' images of the reality he had come to reveal to the world.

In this sense, the words did not create the reality of the kingdom, but they communicated the concept of that reality to the hearers, and did so ONLY for those who could receive the words (See Matthew 13). And yet, by communicating the concept of that reality, did the words not invite the hearers to come and participate in that reality? Did they not create a 'land' for people to enter?

Going further in thinking about the power, and especially the creative power, of words I remember reading Walter Brueggermann's commentary on Genesis, where he explores the idea of God 'speaking' the world into being. God calls things into being, and the things 'listen' and respond in obedience. His theological exploration of this is quite good. He notes that, while God's call is sovereign it is "not coercive but evocative. It invites but it does not compel... thus, it may be resisted and unheeded." (p.18). I find it interesting that if the objective reality itself was called into being by words, and if all calling and vocation from God comes from words, and if even our wandering from God's reality can be described as an 'unheeding' of God's words (and a listening to the words of the serpent instead and receiving his mediated reality), then the creative (and destructive) power of words is far greater than I have previously understood. God speaks reality into being, and as we listen and receive his word by faith, we participate in God's reality. and yet, we have the ability to ignore his reality and understand the world in words of our own, in words and images provided by the media and a barrage of songs and sounds and ads and TV shows and movies and posters. An SMS can break a heart.

In this way, the word of God is very powerful, and very important to our life and peace, but I think in many ways the words of the scripture have become foreign to us and hard to relate to (I hear this from so many people who try to read the Bible but really struggle to understand it). The words themselves have been redefined, and the images have been lost (we have come a long way from understanding the significance of nailing one's ear to a door, for example). It is the preacher's (and teacher's) job to find good words to invite people into God's reality and help them to share in it. But I do think the crucial thing is for God himself to be revealed and encountered as the reality behind the words.

This thought evokes very strange ideas in my mind. Words could very well become doorways to God's presence (the 'sacrament of words'). the words which point to God are the words through which God reveals himself, and thus the words are a doorway to communion with God. How many of us can speak of encountering God himself when reading his word?

Development on biofuels

2008-07-15T18:15:00.003+10:00

If you have read my post does biofuel kill people?, then you might be interested to read this article in today's The Age newspaper online. Seems the UK has wisened up, hopefully others will follow suit.

A word about our focus and the locus of reality

2008-07-14T22:19:00.003+10:00

As I continue to reflect on the concept of 'words' and of 'presence' I have read an interesting post on Open Source Theology that asks an interesting question: do our words reflect or point to that which exists outside and beyond them, or do they, by being spoken, evoke a reality? I suppose from a Biblical perspective this question goes back to Genesis and Adam's naming of the animals. The question is whether Adam studied the behaviour of the animals and named them in accordance with their behaviour and function, or whether he actually prescribed their function and purpose in the act of naming them.

I understand this is actually a topic of debate in the philosophy of language, and it fascinates me. Our words communicate the shared reality in which we live, but to some extent they shape that reality. Our words 'create' and 'evoke' images in people's minds, and thus guide their focus. Qui-Gon Jinn speaks these words to the young Anakin Skywalker: "Your focus determines your reality." To what extent is our reality determined by the external world around us, and to what extent is it determined by our mind's reflections on that external world, and its foci?

As we communicate a picture of reality to others, and as they accept that picture, it becomes reality in all actuality for them. The extent to which that picture is an accurate portrayal of the external world can sometimes be irrelevant - the words alone are powerful enough to influence important decisions, to bring to tears, to bring joy, and sometimes even to kill. In fact, people have killed themselves over mere electrons on a computer screen because those electrons represented words, which in turn painted a picture in the mind of the reader, which in turn manufactured a 'reality' that was unbearable to them, that in turn tipped them over the edge.

Thus, even if words are merely representative of reality, and even if they are completely false representations of 'reality' they can have the power of life and death. Even in this way words actually create reality inside the one who receives them. And along this line of thinking it seems that the locus of reality is actually inside the mind rather than in the world outside us.

Could this very post alter someone's perception of reality? And in doing so could it alter their attitude and behaviour? And if it changed their behaviour would it have, in fact, altered reality?

If people were aware of the power of their words would they choose them more carefully? Would they use them for good? Would they use them to assist people to focus on what is good for them and good for others? Would they use their words to build people up, to transport them out of their depression, to take them to a place of beauty?

What is the limit of the power of words?

Does biofuel kill people?

2008-07-08T18:11:00.007+10:00

Following on from my last post, I read an article in The Age newspaper today which alarmed me:

"The biofuel boom is diverting grain, sugar and oilseed crops from dinner plates to fuel tanks. Indeed, biofuels have forced global food prices up by 75%, far more than previously expected."

and goes on to state that as a result:

"The World Bank estimates that rising food prices have pushed 100 million people worldwide below the poverty line."

So, while Fuel companies may be promoting biofuel as a clean, green, 'feel good' alternative to petrol, it may actually be far worse for the world than straight petrol! I suppose this is one of the things I had in mind in my last post. Changes to our living as simple as the things we buy can potentially have a far greater impact than if we sell our houses and give the money to the poor.

I also confirmed that the world's poor are likely poor due to exploitation. I found two good sites on this topic through the world vision newsletter called Don't trade lives!, and Ethical consumerism,which may be worth checking out. The second site goes down to the level of rating different brands on their ethical production.

Just a few thoughts on some practical choices we can make for the better of our race and environment.

Beyond Borders

2008-07-06T21:58:00.001+10:00

"Whoever has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?" (1 John 3:17).

Tonight we watched a movie called Beyond Borders with Clive Owen and Angelina Jolie. It is a 'love story' set amidst aid work in war-torn countries that has some interesting and thought-provoking aspects. The wealthy Sarah Beauford is inspired by publicity stunt at a several-hundred-dollar per head charity function she attended. The passionate Dr. Nick Callahan parades in an Ethiopian refugee and asks why the organisation hosting the event has cut funding to the project supporting the child's village/camp. Sarah goes off with about $50K to deliver food and medical supplies to the camp and we the audience are confronted with the realities of life that about 50 million members of earth's human population face.

While the film, in true Hollywood fashion, then goes on to marginalise the refugee aspect to make the love interest the main focus, we the audience are left with the images of the plight of so many people and, if we have any heart, cannot help but to be moved to some extent. Perhaps the director used the images of Sarah's extravagant wealth back home as a contrast mechanism to the situation of the refugees, but it seemed that she was actually a selfish person, more concerned with her love for the doctor than anything else, including her own kids. She did not alter her way of life or her consumption after being confronted with what she saw, and I think in the end we are much the same.

After seeing movies such as this one, and others like Hotel Rwanda, Water, Blood Diamond, etc. what actually changes in the way we live? Why is it that the image and knowledge of human beings suffering does not move us to love them, and to act? I am very challenged and disturbed by this thought. As a Christian especially I hear the words of my God:

"Whoever has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?" (1 John 3:17).

It was only today that Adrianna was asking me if God has a will for us buying a place to live, and which property would be a more godly one to buy? It was also today that my pastor was talking to me about Christian worldview and integrating it into our lives (so it is not just something partially formed in our minds). I think this is a big issue. After all, are our Christian worldviews Christian at all? If a worldview is an underpinning understanding of life that informs and directs our attitudes and decisions then our life would reflect that worldview. Yet what I see is not lives that reflect the teachings of Christ, but lives which are not much different from anyone else in the western world. Sure, it is less likely for a Christian to get 'plastered/smashed/hammered', but apparently it is just as likely as any other person for a Christian to get divorced or commit adultery, or lie, cheat, steal. And even if we were able to live without any of these sins the world would be a better place, but in reality this is just a diversion from a more serious issue.

If our God is the God of love who commands us also to love one another (1 John 4:7-21), and if love is expressed in concrete acts such as the apostle John as described above, then why are we unaffected when we see our brother in need, and why does nothing change? How can we preach God's love in Jesus on one hand and ignore this injustice on the other?

Getting to the heart of the immediate problem, what is the godly thing and the right thing to do now in light of being confronted with the knowledge that there are millions of people suffering and starving? Would it be more godly not to buy a good house but to get the cheapest thing we could find and give the rest of the money away? Or would this be just a bandaid solution? Or again, even if it was a bandaid solution and would not make any lasting difference, would it still make a difference to one person (like the parable of the starfish)?

Is it best to give continuous, sustained small gestures in the hope that the collective result of these will make a difference (e.g. sponsor children, or regular donations)? Or is it more about getting to the heart of the problem: Why are these people starving and suffering in the first place? It seems to be a combination of local and global politics, exploitation of the third world by first world countries, third world debt, drought and natural disaster, war and corruption. At the heart of all these also is human greed and dehumanisation of our fellow human beings, i.e. people becoming reduced to a means to an end.

Is it a matter of putting more pressure on our own government to act and, for our part, being willing to make sacrifices at a national/state level in the way that our taxes are used? Would we be doing our part for global warming if we spent our disposable cash on foreign aid rather than the latest gadgets and passing thrills, and if we cut back our consumption so that others could also eat and have shelter and medicine?

Can organisations such as Tear Australia provide solid options to help, or are all our small gestures only actions to appease our consciences? Should we be appeasing our consciences at all, or should our motivation be pure compassion, real solidarity with our fellow human beings?

This is such a difficult problem, and I think a lot of people struggle with how to respond. Doing something is better than doing nothing, but is there more that we can do than something?

I would appreciate some honest feedback here!

Nouwen's epilogue

2008-07-02T21:39:00.001+10:00

We have finished Henri Nouwen's Life of the beloved and it had a kind of sad ending (not that I want to ruin it for anyone but... moohoohaha). The book was written as a personal book for his secular Jewish friend to explain clearly the things of the spiritual life, which he explains in his prologue. The epilpogue reflects on how, after the book was finished and he sent it to his friend, Henri went to visit him and received his feedback, and found that it hadn't hit the mark.

As I read the book I myself had wondered if the words he used were too alien, even though they were not strictly 'Christianese' (for his main words were 'beloved, taken, blessed, broken, given', and he spent about a chapter explaining each word), at the end of the day his friend could not move beyond the words to the reality behind them. They were indeed alien to him.

Henri lamented that after years of sharing together he still could not find the right words to convey life in Christ. I suppose if words are mere symbols that represent a reality (and I am aware that this is something much debated in current philosophy of language), and if that reality is at the most basic level an 'experienced' reality, then those who have not yet experienced it will not be able to fully appreciate the meaning behind the words. I think this is the thesis that Hans Urs Von Bathasaar was presenting in his Love alone is credible (a very hard read!), and perhaps also what Karl Barth was getting at in his theology of revelation. Only as we personally encounter God as he reveals himself to us can we grasp the reality to fill the words with true meaning. Outside of God's self-revelation words are empty symbols. Revelation is thus not so much a cognitive process as a whole-of-person experience. It is an encounter with the true 'presence' of God (there's that word again). Ironic, then, that God reveals himself in his 'word' (John 1). But perhaps it is not so ironic if that 'word' is actually a person that we encounter personally.

If this is true, then perhaps presence is more important than words. But, by the same logic, the comments of anonymous against my previous post may suggest that as the words of the Gospel are presented, the listener encounters the real presence of God himself, coming to fill the words with meaning, since the words are 'true' and thus have a reality 'underwritten' by God's own presence, so to speak. It is as if the words of the gospel are the locus where his presence dwells and is manifest to people.

But at the same time, the Bible stresses that Christians are the special locus of God's presence on earth, his 'temple' so to speak. It is this idea that I would like to explore much further.

Blind love?

2008-06-30T19:48:00.004+10:00

Some say love is blind, but I wonder if love actually enables sight? That is, is there a kind of knowledge that is only gained through love, which cannot be perceived without love? Is it true that there are truths that can only be grasped through by the heart? As someone has said ' the heart has its reasons which reason knows not'.

I was reading some reflection on the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10: 25-37) by Caroline Simon, and the way it was worded struck me. She writes 'The priest and the Levite are blind to what the Samaritan sees, for they lack the love that leads to compassion' (p.13). She then quotes Simone Weil's comment: 'Humanity does not exist in the anonymous flesh lying inert by the roadside. The Samaritan who stops and gives his attention all the same to this absent humanity, and the actions which follow prove that it is a question of real attention' (p.13).

I am interested in people who speak of love as that which enables us to look upon people differently, to see things which, without love, we are unable to see, and to be transformed in our thoughts and deeds by what we see. I think there is a lot bound up in this. It means being truly present to the other, and also truly perceiving their presence. The encounter with true 'presence' is something that is deep and touching, something that can 'grip' our heart. Often we do not give our true presence to people. Our minds are elsewhere, 'busy', or through some form of subliminal rejection we choose not to fully listen, and certainly not to look beyond whatever facade we are 'faced' with. But giving our true presence and beholding the other 'lovingly', we may see through their facade to their true presence.

If we do this, if we offer our full presence and manage to glimpse the other, will we find something that compels us to love? That is, is there something in that person that is intrinsically lovable, love-worthy, lovely? Or is is, rather, that our love 'creates' that value in the other?

This, of course, has significant theological assumptions and implications, e.g. Does God's love see in us something of value to be loved, or does it create in us that something, i.e. love completing itself in the other? I would tend to favour the former: that love perceives a worth which already exists in the other. In this case, it is love that enables us to see it.

Life of the beloved

2008-06-29T17:52:00.002+10:00

Adrianna and I have been reading the book life of the beloved by Henri Nouwen, a Jesuit scholar who left YALE to work with mentally handicapped people in the L'Arch community. He writes simply and profoundly, and I find his work inspirational. His basic premise throughout the whole book is that we are the beloved of God, and that if we can grasp this truth it will truly change our lives.

Some might find this kind of thinking as self-aggrandising, but the more I think about it, the more I don't believe this is so. It is actually one of the hardest truths to accept that God actually does love us, that we are the 'beloved'. A lot of people would actually be quite uncomfortable with this idea, or else shrug it off to 'get on' with their busy lives.

But I wonder, for all of our busyness, how empty our lives can be, how hollow. As captain Jack Sparrow said in Pirates of the Caribbean, 'The world's not smaller, there's just less in it.' Our lives are more busy but there is less in them. I know this feels true for myself. Perhaps we are busy trying to make something of ourselves, trying to become successful, respectable, even enviable, and maybe, just maybe lovable.

And yet most of us will have had experiences in life that tell us we are not lovable. Rejections, break-ups, betrayals, loss of jobs, humiliations, fights and falling-outs. These can all make us believe that we are not worthy to be loved, at least not as we are. So we try to become better, to become someone else, to become worthy. After a while of trying, we can forget the very person who we are, and I think at that point we either have to keep distracting ourselves by the trivialities of life or else face up to our brokenness and emptiness. And I would bet that under the surface many of us can identify with this reality.

Into this context the truth that we are the beloved, loved by God himself, and therefore created lovable, is something that we would meet with skepticism and mistrust. But what if it is true?

Why in the grip of grace?

2008-06-28T14:23:00.002+10:00

ggNo grace is not a person!

If memory serves, I first saw the words 'In the grip of grace' on the front cover of a book by Max Lucado on the bookshelf of my friend Roz. Funnily enough I have never read that book, but its title really took hold of me, so to speak. I think it is a fitting image for those whose life is in Christ, and also of my life. It is an image that causes us not to focus so much on what we do in our relationship with our God, but causes us to remember that God himself has taken hold of us and carries us safely in his mighty hands. I chose it for the title of this blog because it reminds me of whose I am, and I believe that should be reflected in my life, my thoughts, my words and my acts. May the words of this blog echo the grace that God gives me.

There are a few passages that come to mind when I think of this image:

(1) In writing to the church in Philippi Paul speaks of his Christian life as one where he hasn't got everything made just yet, and he hasn't 'arrived' or achieved perfection. He says 'Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me'(Philippians 3:12). I think this acknowledges that God is the one pursuing us, and he takes hold of us in his love. God took hold of Paul and changed his life. This is recorded in Acts chapter 9, but it is good to start reading from chapter 7 for the fuller picture.

(2) Another passage which picks up on this imagery is Isaiah 41, which speaks to God's people scattered throughout the earth concerning God's care. From verse 9 it says:

^?9?I took you from the ends of the earth,

from its farthest corners I called you.

I said, ‘You are my servant’;

I have chosen you and have not rejected you.

^?10?So do not fear, for I am with you;

do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Again this passage uses the image of God's hand taking hold of us and 'upholding' us, a hand which is commonly identified as the person of Jesus, who sits as God's right hand in heaven.

(3) Finally, I think Paul asks a profound question along these same lines when he writes to the church in Rome and asks 'Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?' (Romans 8:35). It is comforting to know that we don't need to struggle to hold onto God, but we can rest safe in the knowledge that God has taken hold of us, and he will carry us. He loves us and nothing can separate us from that love. This is a promise of rest (Matthew 11:28). It is the knowledge that God has got my back, he is the one working in me to bring about good (Philippians 2:13).

I have much more to say on this topic, but I will leave it here for now.

Hello world

2008-06-27T19:35:00.000+10:00

I have been inspired by my minister Graham to start a blog. For quite some time I have thought that I wouldn't have the discipline to keep up the writing, but I now think I should at least give it a go. I am hoping it will encourage me to continue in exploring the wonders of God through writing down my thoughts and learnings, and perhaps interacting with others.

I will also write a bit about myself and what 'I' am up to and where I am 'at', and also about what 'we' are up to and where we are 'at'. By the we I mean my beloved Adrianna who shares with me our journey through life.

Let us see what becomes of these electrons...