Empowering Love for Revolution: Divine and Creaturely Action

For my contribution to this discussion of revolutionary love, I want to offer a constructive theological proposal. This proposal represents my effort to make sense of revolutionary love, both what it means and God’s role in it.

Constructive theology’s attempt to speak about God is, of course, inherently risky. Too often, those who speak of God sound hubristic. Constructive theologians can speak as if they know too much. They sometimes come across as certain, or at least overly assured.

With this in mind, I want to be clear that my theological proposal is tentative, speculative, partial, and fallible. I offer my proposals with humility, knowing I likely am missing important ideas and not seeing all of the possibilities. My conceptual capabilities are inherently limited, and my experiences are even more so.

I will also not pretend to be completely objective. I will speak from my Christian perspective, and my particular embodied experience, with a particular history, in particular locations, in relationships with particular communities. All of this shapes my perspective.

I suspect and hope, however, that those of other religious perspectives and with other life experiences will appreciate at least some of what I want to propose in my brief time. I am confident that other religious traditions have resources for supporting the general intuition at the heart of revolutionary love.

Love

Let me begin by trying to be clear about what I mean by “love.”

I have spent much of my academic career exploring the meaning and forms of love.[1] Of course, the word “love” has many meaning and forms. But I find that few theologians, philosophers, or scholars of religion take the time to define what they mean by “love.” Even fewer connect a root or fundamental definition of love with various forms, expressions, or types of love.

Trying to be clear about what we mean by love seems necessary if we want to talk about “revolutionary love” as a particular type. I doubt, of course, that language can ever capture the meaning of “love” fully or even the full meaning of “revolution.” But I’m convinced that language can influence our actions, so I see value in trying to be clear. And if we think revolutionary love is a good thing that should sometimes be expressed, we should have some idea of what it is.

I’ve come to define love in this way: To love is to act intentionally, in relational response to God, others, and creation more generally, to promote overall well-being.[2] I could do a whole lecture on each part of this definition. But I want to highlight the final segment of my definition – “to promote overall well-being” – because of what it entails for understanding revolutionary love.

Revolutionary Love

By “well-being,” I mean shalom, the common good, eudemonia, being a blessing, the good life, or even a broad notion of salvation. “Well-being” speaks to the goodness, positivity, and even healing of all aspects of existence.

My emphasis upon “overall” in well-being reminds us that we should intend for our local actions to promote the good of the whole. Of course, we will have special relations to family, friends, and local communities. And we should love ourselves, in the proper sense. But we should avoid acting for the good of a few at the obvious expense of the whole. As the saying goes, we should “act locally but think globally.”

This eye toward the common good is where we rightly locate the justice aspect of love. Cornel West is fond of saying that “justice is what love looks like in public.” His words fit my emphasis upon love having overall well-being -- the big picture, the whole, the common good -- in mind, even though it typically acts in relation to the few and the local.

The justice element of love as promoting overall well-being allows me to make sense of “revolutionary love” as a type, form, or expression of love. As I see it, revolutionary love works to overcome, overthrow, and oppose structures, systems, or authorities that undermine overall well-being. Revolutionary love seeks justice in the face of evil, because it wants what’s good for the wider community.

We need revolutionary love when the status quo and the established systems disenfranchise, oppress, and degrade our lives and our planet. We need revolutionary love when elections put into power those whose policies and rhetoric undermine well-being.

Revolutionary love opposes the status quo whenever the status quo does harm and evil, whether at the local, national, or international levels. In his opposition to colonialism, Indonesian scholar of religion, Ekaputra Tupamahu puts it this way: “Love that promotes the well-being of all must be the motivating force that drives every socio-political interaction.”[3]

God’s Uncontrolling Love

My statements thus far about love, in general, and revolutionary love, in particular, could be affirmed by just about anyone. As far as I can tell, most religious perspectives could support my proposal.

But I turn now to my distinctively theological proposals. I want to make two proposals: one more traditional, the other more radical.

1. My first proposal is that God is the source, inspiration, and empower of revolutionary love. The Apostle Paul’s use of kenosis can be understood to describe God’s action to encourage revolutionary love. As I see it, divine kenosis is God’s self-giving, others-empowering love.[4]

God acts first in each moment to empower and inspire us to promote overall well-being. When this action is done in the face of oppression, whether structural, institutional, or governmental, we engage in revolutionary love.

This action by the Source of Love provides the ground for hope that our creaturely love responses can bring about positive transformation. This is the God who is with us, alongside us, before us, and behind us. Rather than positioned at a distance, removed, aloof, or uninvolved, this God is the moment-by-moment empowerer and inspirer of revolutionary love. As the Apostle John put it, “We love… because God first loves us” (1 Jn. 4:19).

2. But this leads to my second proposal, one that may seem radical.

Instead of claiming that self-giving, others-empowering love for revolution is something God may or may not provide to us, I believe that self-giving, others-empowering love is essential God. In terms of kenosis, I propose that kenosis is necessary to God, not some voluntary choice on God’s part. God’s kenosis is essential rather than accidental, to put it philosophically. In fact, I call this view “essential kenosis.”[5]

To put this more technically: self-giving, others-empowering love is logically prior to choice in God’s nature. God does not and did not voluntarily choose to set aside controlling power, as I God could have created a universe of robots, fully controlled by God. Rather, by nature, God expresses uncontrolling love.

This means God necessarily expresses uncontrolling love. God must self-give and others-empower. And God cannot withdraw, override or fail to provide to creation freedom, agency, and existence. I’m not saying that force outside of God constrains God. Nor am I affirming voluntary divine self-limitation. My claim is that God’s own loving nature is uncontrolling love.

Of course, to say God must love and God cannot withdraw, override, or fail to provide freedom, agency, and existence will strike some as radical. Some may ask, “Who are you to say what God can or cannot do!”

This is a legitimate question. But let me remind us that I’m making a speculative proposal. I definitely admit to being fallible! I don’t know what God is like. I see as if looking through a darkened glass, to use language in my Christian tradition.

But I propose this way of thinking – that God must love and divine love is necessarily uncontrolling -- in light of the world in which we live. A world with both good and evil, justice and injustice, beauty and unnecessary suffering. And I propose this way of thinking in light of the world we want to be. A world in which love reigns supreme.

A year ago, my latest book The Uncontrolling Love of God was released. In it, I explain in greater detail the view I’m proposing today. Since the book’s release, I’ve received numerous notes from those who find attractive my view that God cannot control. Some of those notes come from scholars and students. But others come from victims of abuse. Many of those sexually abused say my book allowed them to believe God loves them but neither caused nor allowed the evil they suffered.

One woman put it this way: “Outside of an understanding of an uncontrolling God, there is no potential for truly transcending the human experience of trauma, for living life abundantly, and for worshipping freely. The God who controls could not be my anchor. But the God who loves me, comforts me, brings me support by prompting the actions of others, and guides my choices most certainly can!”[6]

Overcoming the Status Quo

If God is controlling or could be controlling, one should conclude that abuse and oppression by individuals, systems, institutions, or dictators are what God either caused or allowed. This means individual cases of mistreatment or the unjust aspects of status quo are either caused or allowed by God. If God is controlling or could control others, God is culpable for causing or allowing evil.

Furthermore, if God is capable of control, any attempt to overturn oppressive systems, governments, or institutions might rightly be thought to oppose God’s wishes. After all, it’s hard to feel motivated to express revolutionary love if we believe God set up, endorses, or allows the unrighteous status quo.

However, if we believe that God is necessarily uncontrolling, which means God cannot control others and cannot act as a sufficient cause or unilateral determiner, we need not think the status quo is God’s design. If God cannot control, we need not think repressive systems and tyrannical leaders are divinely endorsed.

Conclusion

Most of us know we ought to love. We want to be part of a love revolution. Despite the theologies of omnipotence we have inherited, we intuit the call to persuasive love.

We need a theology that supports the love revolution we desperately need. I propose that we who feel called to express revolutionary love should set aside the view that God is in control or even could control others. We should instead believe God is the source, inspiration, and empowerer of the loving actions that oppose injustice and promote overall well-being. This is a God who calls for revolution for the sake of what is truly good.

Combining the view that God self-gives and others-empowers, along with the view that God is not in control and cannot control others entirely, we can be motivated to express revolutionary love and thereby promote overall well-being.

Notes

  1. Among my published works on the study of love, see The Altruism Reader: Selections from Writings on Love, Religion and Science (Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation Press, 2008); Defining Love: A Philosophical, Scientific, and Theological Engagement (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Brazos, 2010); The Many Facets of Love: Philosophical Explorations, Editor and Contributor (Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Press, 20070; The Nature of Love: A Theology (St. Louis, Mo.: Chalice Press, 2010); Relational Holiness: Responding to the Call of Love, with Michael Lodahl (Kansas City: Beacon Hill Press, 2005); Science of Love: The Wisdom of Well-Being (Philadelphia: Templeton Press, 2004); The Uncontrolling Love of God: An Open and Relational Theology of Providence (Downers Grove, Ill: Intervarsity, 2015).

  2. In many of my publications, I expand and deepen my reflection on this definition of love. See especially, Defining Love.

  3. Ekaputra Tupamahu, “A Decolonial Love of God,” Oct. 25, 2016. https://uncontrollinglove.com/2016/10/25/a-decolonial-love-of-god/ (Accessed 12/23/16)

  4. I expand and explain this claim in greater detail in The Nature of Love, ch. 5 and Defining Love, ch. 7.

  5. Ibid.

  6. Janyne McConnaughey, “When God is Not in Control,” Nov. 10, 2016. https://uncontrollinglove.com/2016/11/10/when-god-is-not-in-control/comment-page-1/ (Accessed 12/23/2016)

Defining Love for Our Time

Nearly everyone cares about love. Artists, philosophers, theologians, romantics, therapists, poets, fanatics, and more extol love as worthy of attention and pursuit. “All you need is love,” sing the Beatles. “Love is a many splendored thing,” wrote Shakespeare. “Love one another,” says Jesus.

Love is especially important for Christians. Love language can be found in the texts of many religions, but scholars argue that Christianity prizes love more than other religious traditions.[1] The center of Christianity – Jesus of Nazareth – said the two greatest commandments pertain to love. The Christian apostle Paul wrote that love is greater than faith and hope, and he instructs readers to “imitate God, as beloved children, and live a life of love…” (Eph. 5:1)

Love plays a central role in contemporary culture. In Rolling Stone magazine’s list of the top 500 rock-n-roll songs of all time, the word “love” appears in song titles more far often than any other word. The love described in such songs often pertains to romance or sex and less often to benevolence. But there’s no doubt love language prevails.

When we stop and think about it, however, defining love isn’t easy, even for Christians. “Love” is used in many ways, both in everyday language and in Scripture. Consider these examples:

“I love my puppy.”

“Love God.”

“I love a man in uniform.”

“I love pepperoni pizza.”

“God loves the world.”

“I love my son.”

“Love one another.”

“Don’t love the world.”

“I loved her up real good.”

“Love always trusts.”

“I love the New England Patriots.”

This list reminds me of the question asked by musician Haddaway: “What is love? Baby don’t hurt me.” The band Foreigner expresses a similar sentiment: “I wanna know what love is, and I want you to show me.” EHarmony understands love differently than the Dalia Lama. Discerning love’s meaning can be difficult!

In this essay, I explore and evaluate the meanings of love we find in Christianity, ancient cultures, and today. Because Christians often connect love with God – “God is love,” as John puts it – I’ll explore theologies of love too. At the conclusion, I offer my own definition of love, which I hope can help us make sense of love for our time.

Can We Define Love?

A few say composing a definition of love is folly. Defining love is as likely as defining God, they argue. It can’t be done. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

I think otherwise. As I see it, we need some sense of love’s meaning if we want to talk intelligibly. A good definition might help us understand one another and live well. Besides, we want to know what someone means who says, “I love you.” And Christians cannot know if they are living a life of love or obeying Jesus’ love commands if they have no clue about what love is.

In the attempt to provide a love definition, however, we should concede some limitations. Let’s admit, for instance, that our language is unlikely to capture fully what we mean by love. Although useful, language has inherent limits. Despite its limits, however, language can be somewhat helpful. Admitting that definitions will not capture all we believe about love shouldn’t stop us from composing a definition.

Others say that a standard definition of love is beside the point. The correct practice, they argue, is simply to describe what people mean each time they use the word. We mean something different when we say, “I love the needy,” for instance, and “I love her sky-blue eyes.” This phenomenology of love approach says we should study a thing’s forms or expressions rather speculate about its essence.

Philosopher Irving Singer’s multi-volume work, The Nature of Love, is perhaps the most comprehensive attempt at a phenomenology of love. Irving traces major philosophers, cultural shifts, romance and marriage, and more. Noticeably absent in his work, however, is much mention of love as a religious category. So from the standpoint of religious people – the majority of people on planet earth! – Singer’s work on love is incomplete.

We use “love” to describe so many actions. Listing every variation would take a lifetime. The “love is whatever it means in the circumstances” approach does not account well for our tendency to wonder what unites diverse meanings of love. A phenomenology of love doesn’t get Christians any closer to knowing what it means to love God, love our neighbors as ourselves, love strangers and immigrants, or imitate God by living a life of love.

Because love is difficult to define and it takes so many forms, a common approach to defining love is to identify overarching love categories. The most common way uses the Greek words agape, eros, and philia. Unfortunately, scholars do not agree on how to define these Greek love words, especially agape. Besides, knowing how to describe each category presupposes a general meaning of love by comparison.

For the remainder of this essay, I’ll look both at major ways love has been defined and these major Greek love categories. I’m taking this approach, because the general categories – agape, eros, and philia – roughly correspond to the dominant definitions of love that have arisen in history.[2]

The Agape Phenomenon

Before the 1930s, few people had heard of agape, which is found in various forms in the New Testament. But Anders Nygren’s book, Agape and Eros,[3] changed that. Today, even children are told agape is a special, if not only, Christian love. Agape is a household word, at least in many Christian households.

Nygren never defines love in his influential book. But that’s typical of theologians; most assume the meaning of love without taking the time to define it carefully. But Nygren argues agape is the only Christian form of love, and we discover its meaning by reading the New Testament. In fact, says Nygren, “agape is the center of Christianity” and “the Christian fundamental motif par excellence.”[4]

Eros is not Christian love, according to Nygren. Agape and eros belong to two “entirely separate spiritual worlds,” he says, “between which no direct communication is possible.”[5] Agape is good and Godly, he argues. Eros is human-centered, desire-oriented, and a distortion of Christian love.

Nygren claims that agape has four essential aspects. It is 1) spontaneous and unmotivated, 2) indifferent to value, 3) creative, and 4) the initiator of fellowship with God. These four aspects of agape tell us a great deal about the theological vision that informs Anders Nygren.

Nygren’s theological hero is Martin Luther. Luther believes a sovereign God relates with and loves an utterly sinful world. Luther rejects every idea of human merit, however, which means that humans cannot love. He also rejects the idea of self-love, regarding it as the foundation of sin. Luther believes God uses utterly sinful, valueless humans as passive tubes through which pure love passes from God to creatures below.

Although Nygren popularized agape, the majority of scholars in the past and present reject his arguments. Biblical scholars, for instance, note that what Jesus, Paul, John, and other New Testament authors mean by agape rarely jibes with Nygren’s meaning. In fact, biblical writers do not offer a consistent meaning for agape. And a careful examination of the Bible’s love language shows that agape is not the only form of Christian love. The Bible portrays God’s love as sometimes taking eros and philia forms, even when those Greek words are not used.

Theologians point to the theological shortcomings of Nygren’s views as informed by his particular interpretation of Luther. While most theologians agree that God initiates fellowship with creatures, the biblical witness also says that creatures play a role in loving. Love is not restricted to God’s action alone. Also, many ethicists argue that Nygren’s views fail to help us live well in the world. Agape may be important for understanding love, but Nygren’s particular proposals fail to convince many who study his work carefully.[6]

Love Does Good

Although Anders Nygren fails to argue well that agape is the distinctive form of Christian love, his work does point to an important way “love” can be defined. Love, in general, can be defined as action that promotes abundant life, flourishing, blessedness or overall well-being. In short, to love is to do good.

The idea that love does good is fairly common. We can express such love for our own well-being (self-love), the well-being of others (other-love), the well-being of strangers or adversaries (enemy-love), and the well-being experienced in sexual relationships (marital love). Many today argue that we should care for other creatures and the planet, by which they mean loving creation. When we do good in these ways, we often say we love.

While love has several meanings in the Bible, love as doing good prevails as the most common meaning. It fits well phrases such as “God love the world so much that he gave his son” (Jn 3:16), “love your enemies” (Lk. 6:35), “no one has greater love than this, that he lay down his life…” (Jn. 15:13), “the steadfast love of the Lord endures forever” (Lam. 3:22) and “love one another” (Jn. 13:34). Jesus illustrates what he means by the love commands by telling a story about a Good Samaritan who good to the one in need. Biblical writers often use “love” to describe action that promotes shalom or provides salvation.

Because love can be defined in terms of doing good and yet New Testament writers use agape to mean various things, some scholars avoid using the word agape altogether. I prefer, however, to say agape identifies one form of love alongside others. In doing so, I presuppose a general definition of love under which agape is one type or form.

I suggest we think of agape as a form of love that does good in response to harm. Agape “repays evil with good,” to use the biblical phrase (Rm. 12:21). It not only turns the other cheek, agape blesses those who curse us (1 Pt. 3:9). I like to call agape “in spite of love. Agape acts for good “in spite of” the harm others may do.

Let’s put on hold for a moment, however, the idea love is best defined as doing good. We’ll come back to it. Let’s continue to explore other ways love might be defined.

Proper and Improper Desires

If you spent a day talking about love with analytic philosophers, you’d find most of them referring to love as desire. Desires could be good or bad. But according to this way of defining love, these desires express our loves. Love understood in this way means that we can love wrongly or rightly, our love can be ordered or disordered, and love can be a virtue or a vice.

Love as desire comes chiefly from the philosophical traditions of Aristotle and Plato. I suspect that’s why it dominates among philosophers. But this way of understanding love also arises often in popular culture. When we say we “love pizza,” for instance, we typically mean we desire it. We don’t mean we want to good to the pizza!

Augustine may be the most influential theologian in history. And his theology has influenced many to think of love primarily as desire.[7] Sometimes Augustine used the word “enjoy” instead of “desire,” however. “Enjoyment consists in clinging to something lovingly for its own sake,” he says.[8] Notice the word “cling” in this sentence. Elsewhere, Augustine says “love is a kind of craving.”[9] Those who think of love as desire or craving use words like “cling,” “care,” “intend,” “yearn,” “concern,” or “acquisitive longing.”

When love is defined as desire, it can involve intentionally doing evil. Augustine offers an example: a miser can love gold “with an evil as well as with a good love,” he says. Gold “is loved rightly when it is loved ordinately; evilly when inordinately.”[10] We ought to seek “the right order of love,” Augustine concludes.[11] In other words, we ought to align our desires properly.

Augustine uses two Latin words to express proper and improper desire. Charity (caritas) is proper love, and it desires for God’s sake. Cupidity (cupiditas) is improper love, and it desires for the sake of something else. The difference between caritas and cupiditas is not one of kind – both are desires – but of object. “Love, but see to it what you love,” he says.[12] Notice again that for Augustine, love is not essentially connected to positivity, helping, benevolence, shalom, or blessedness.

Building upon love as desire or enjoyment, Augustine develops an entire theology. We should desire only those things that are eternal and unchanging, he says. This means that we cannot love people for their own sakes, we can only properly love God for God’s own sake. Because proper love involves desiring what is eternal and unchanging, God cannot even love creatures. God can only use them. But even God’s use of creatures can only be for God’s own sake. Ultimately, Augustine says, God only loves Godself.

Augustine’s love theology is bound tightly to this philosophical assumptions about love and differences between God and creation. Given these assumptions, he tries to use his love language consistently. The result points to radical differences between God’s love and creaturely love, in part because he thinks of love as desire.[13]

Eros and Intentional Action Related to Value

The desire way of defining love emphasizes intentional action. This intentional action can be described in many ways, but value is always involved in some way or another. We desire or act intentionally in relation to something we deem valuable.

Some say the valuable object causes the action of love. Others believe the intentional action is self-caused, but it responds to the value it perceives. Philosophers debate whether desire is in any sense free, in the sense of lovers having free will.

The contemporary philosopher Harry Frankfurt uses the word “care” to describe the intentional action of desire. There is “something we regard as important to ourselves,” he says.[14] “When a person cares about something,” he argues, that person “is willing committed to his desire.”[15] In Frankfurt’s sense of “care,” one does not necessarily help or do good. This care is a particular form of desire that includes action of some kind, even if only mental.

James K. A. Smith also thinks of love primarily as desire. His book, You Are What You Love, explores how acting upon desires leads us to develop habits.[16] Notice, however, that “love” as desire is not the typical way “love” is used in Scripture. For instance, Scripture tells us to love neighbors, love enemies, love aliens, and even love ourselves. In these instances, it’s odd to think our love molds us into love’s desire. In other words, it’s hard to imagine that our love lead us to become our neighbors, enemies, or aliens.

Defining love as desire helps us to see the importance of intentional action in response to values. It seems right to think our emotions and emotional states influence our desires. And as I see it, a standard or overall definition of love includes some role for desire, intentionality, or motives in relation to value.

Eros is the ancient Greek word typically connected to desire. In terms of a general category or form of love, we might say eros is oriented toward value. If we think of eros as one form of love, we might describe it as an intentional action that affirms or seeks to enhance value. This value may be present in other creatures, in the lover, or in God.

I earlier argued that we might call agape the “in spite of” form of love. I also suggest we think of eros as the “because of” form of love. Eros responds because of the value it encounters. This form of love seeks to enhance, improve upon, promote, or enjoy value.

Given the central role of desire in eros, it’s little wonder that the word “erotic” is used in popular culture primarily to talk about sex and romance. But it doesn’t take much reflection to realize that romantic or sexual activity is not always loving, in the sense of promoting what is good and beneficial. As a form of love, eros promotes what is good. So we might be wise to use words like “lust” or “covetousness” to describe romantic or sexual activity that undermines the good and save using the word eros for actions that respond to and promote values.

Loving Relationships

To this point in our exploration of love, we’ve spent little time talking about relationships. And yet we express love in relationships; they seem essential to understanding love. In popular culture and theories of psychology, relationships play a lead role in understanding love. Biblical texts also describe love in the context of relationships, including love between a wife and husband, between parents and children, even Lords and servant, humans and other creatures, friend and enemies, residents for aliens, and love between God and creation.

Ancient Greeks told a story about the relational component of love. According to it, each human originally had four legs, four arms, and two heads. Humans were so strong and smart, however, they began to wage war on the gods. Zeus responded to the problem with a plan: cut humans in two to weaken and confuse them. He executed these separations, and ever since, humans roamed the earth seeking the love of their other (“better”) halves. 

This story seems farfetched. But thinking that love requires bodily relationship seems obvious to many of us, because relationships affect our bodies in profound ways. Neuroscience has identified various chemicals at work in our brains when we love. The main ones are dopamineoxytocin, and vasopressin. Particular parts of the brain show increased activity when love is felt or expressed toward those with whom lovers relate.[17]

The idea that love requires real relationship has not always been obvious to theologians, however, at least when they ponder God’s love. Most theologians of yesteryear affirmed that God was unrelated to and unaffected by creatures – “impassible” is the ancient word. God does not give and receive in relations with creaturely others, as they saw it. They worried that if God were affected by others, God could change. Because God is perfect and “without shadow of change,” to use a biblical phrase, God’s love must not involve being affected by creatures in relationship. As philosophers might say, the impassible God is not ontologically related to creation.

By the end of the 20th century, the majority of theologians had rejected divine impassibility and joined the “love involves real relationships” view,[18] In this case, Christian laity was ahead of the theologians in thinking we are involved in giving and receiving relationship with God. This relational love seems to be central in God’s covenant with creation in general and Israel in particular. In fact, scholars often translate the most common Hebrew word for love, hesed, as “steadfast” or “loyal” love. “The Lord is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made,” says the Psalmist (Ps. 145:9). “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Ex. 34:6).

Jurgen Moltmann is one among many contemporary theologians who argue that love is basis for Trinitarian relationships. The Father, Son, and Spirit give and receive love in an everlasting perichoretic dance. This social Trinity view is embraced by many contemporary Christians. For instance, in the best-selling book and then movie, The Shack, the author has Jesus say of the Trinity: “love is meant to exist in relationship.” Many theologians argue that God creates and expresses love to creatures as an outpouring of the love first expressed in Trinity.[19]

In addition to contemporary theologians thinking of God as relational, scientists and philosophers often consider creation and humans as interdependent. Instead of the world being like a clock and humans like machines, nature is increasingly described in organismic terms and humans as interrelated with one another and creation. In this thinking, the relational essence of love makes sense.

Does Love = Relationship? Philia

It’s fairly common to hear someone say that two people are “in a relationship” and for us to assume they are “in love.” In this popular way of talking, love might be thought to equal relationship. This “love as relationship” language can be found in the literature of couples therapy and positive psychology.

A few theologians and philosophers think of love primarily in terms of relationships. Vincent Brummer calls love “a reciprocal relation,” and he says love “must by its very nature be a relationship of free mutual give and take.”[20] Charles Hartshorne offers a similar understanding when he says, “love means realization in oneself of the desires and experiences of others…”[21] He calls love “life sharing,” and in this way of thinking, to be mutually related is to love.[22]

The problem with thinking that love = relationship, however, is that we can easily imagine relationships that do not promote well-being. We don’t think of an abusive marriage as a loving relationship, at least not when the abuse is occurring. Friends in relationship can undermine rather than enhance each other’s well-being. And we all know that some relationships are not healthy. Perhaps in our attempt to define love well, we should not say love equals relationship. But perhaps we should say that love, rightly understood, involves give-and-receive relationships.

The Greek word philia emphasizes the relational aspect of love. A related Greek word for love, storge, also emphasizes this relationality, with a particular focus on family relationships. We find philia in the Bible, but Aristotle’s philosophy of friendship has likely shaped current notions of friendship love more than Scripture. Aristotle offers a variety of factors he believes shapes friendship love. At their best, friends and family enhance one another’s well-being; friendship love does good in the solidarity of relationship.

As I see it, philia can be one form of love among others. While all love involves relationship, philia emphasizes cooperation for the common good. Philia is the “alongside of” form of love, that promotes well-being in solidarity with others. It does good alongside others to whom loves relate.

Defining Love in Our Time

I’ve been exploring three dominant ways that love has been defined. To recap, some define love as doing good. Some define it in terms of desire, or what I called intentional action in relation to value. And some think of love in terms of relationship.

In this exploration, I’ve also addressed the three major forms of love: agape, eros, and philia. These Greek words have various meanings, and there is no consensus on which meaning is best. I’ve suggested a convenient way to talk about each: agape is “in spite of” love, eros is “because of” love, and philia is “alongside of” love.

I’ve also explored how theologians think about God’s relation to love. These ways vary, based in part upon their philosophical and theological assumptions. It may be easy to say, “God is love” or “God loves the world,” but it’s far more complicated to know what these phrases mean. And scholars interpret their meanings in various ways.

I want to conclude by proposing a definition of love I think helpful for our time. My definition draws from what we’ve been exploring. But it prioritizes and combines these ideas in my own way, with the result being my unique definition. I’m happy to report that many scholars have adopted my definition for their research. I define love in this way:

To love is to act intentionally, in response to others (including God), to promote overall well-being.

To put it differently, loving actions are influenced by God, others, and ourselves. And we rightly think of such actions loving when done purposefully to encourage, create, or sustain what is good.

Let me explain these phrases...

Love Acts Intentionally

The phrase “to act intentionally” in my definition accounts for the desire aspect of love. I believe love is intentional, not accidental. Love is partly self-caused, in the sense of our choosing, in some sense, to love or not to love. Love is a verb.

I use “intentional” in my definition, because the word has three facets of meaning: deliberateness, motive, and freedom. While the three overlap, each offers something distinctive for understanding love’s intentionality.

The deliberation facet of intention has to do with decision making. Decisions to love do not necessarily require long and drawn out reflection. We often make split-second, spur-of-the-moment decisions to love. Sometimes, of course, love requires a painstaking survey of a wide array of possibilities. But creatures need not know everything nor always focus deeply or at great length when deciding to love. At a minimum, love involves a cognitive aspect.

The motive facet of intention says love purposely does good. The consequences of our actions don’t determine whether we have loved. Sometimes actions with good motives result in bad consequences; sometime actions with bad motives result in good consequences. As I see it, motives matter. Ill will is incompatible with actions we should deem loving, because love has some positive end in mind. Love assesses prospectively what actions promise to do rather than retrospectively whether actions yielded the greatest good.

The freedom facet of intention refers to what philosophers call “self-determination.” Love is meaningless, in my view, if we are not to some degree free. Coercion -- in the sense of being totally controlled by others -- is incompatible with love. The freedom of love is always limited. Concrete circumstances, our biology, and what is genuinely possible limit the options we have when choosing to love.

The biblical account abounds in references to the importance of intentional decisions to do good. In the first and second greatest love commandments, for instance, Jesus commands intentional action. Paul urges his readers to act intentionally to promote overall well-being when he says they should love one another.

To say love requires intentional action does not mean it imposes, interferes, intrudes, or intervenes in the affairs of others. Love may or may not be intrusive. In fact, the actions of love are not always perceptible to our five senses. Thinking and praying, for instance, can be acts of love. Acts of love take many forms.

Those who repeatedly act intentionally to promote overall well-being become loving people. Over time, a particular kind of person emerges whose character is loving. The virtuous person enjoys a personal history of frequent intentional responses that develop habits when promoting the common good. Various practices and traditions, therefore, play vital roles in the character development of virtuous people. Christians seek to become like Jesus by loving like Jesus loved.

Love Responds in Relationship to God and Others

The phrase “response to God and others” in my definition takes into account the relational aspect of love. Lovers influence one another, and in a relationship of giving and receiving, we can choose to love. Entirely isolated individuals – if they existed – could not love. Relationship is a necessary condition for love.

Our relationships make empathy possible, and empathy is often vital for loving well. We “feel with” others, in the sense that we are internally influenced by them. John B. Cobb, Jr. and David Ray Griffin use the label “creative-responsive love” to account for love as both influencing others and being influenced by others.[23] Empathy helps us to assess what love requires in response to others.

The relational component also points to role affect, emotions, or feelings play in love. In the context of intimate relationship, we often feel fondness or affection for others. It’s natural to use the language of love to describe these powerful emotions.

From my perspective, we should not define love as one emotion among others, as some psychologists do.[24] In particular, love should not be defined simply in terms of fondness or affection. Feeling these emotions is often accompanied by various actions intended for good. I feel profound fondness for my wife and children, for instance, and I often act for their good in response to that feeling. Others feel affection for friends, pets, and places. Sometimes we love “love one another with mutual affection,” to quote Paul (Rom. 12:10).

We can imagine people who feel fondness or affection, however, and yet do not do good. Motivated by affection, parents can intentionally “smother,” “pamper,” or “coddle” a child to the point of spoiling her. Families can intentionally isolate themselves from outsiders – enjoying alone the fondness of family – and thereby fail to promote the common good. Although intimate relationships are important and often promote love, we should not define love simply as fondness or affection.

Love Promotes Overall Well-Being

The phrase “promote overall well-being” is the main object of the final phrase in my love definition. I include it to account for the idea that love does good. This is the central but often overlooked aspect of a helpful definition of love. Love seeks to promote overall well-being.

The words “well-being” account for a wide variety of ways we can do good. Promoting well-being can mean meeting our basic needs, such as providing food, water, air, and suitable living conditions. It can mean caring for others or establishing a sense of community. It can mean promoting diverse life forms, opportunities, and cultural expressions.

To do good by promoting well-being may mean encouraging in others a feeling of self-worth, providing medical soundness and physical fitness, fostering deep personal relationships, or cultivating social and political harmony. Promoting well-being often includes encouraging the development of virtues and practices. It can mean helping immigrants and strangers or caring for the earth and its creatures. To promote well-being is act intentionally to do good in at least one but often many ways.

The “overall” in my definition reminds us that justice plays an important role in love. When we help one or a few to the obvious detriment of the many, the justice aspect of love demands we seek the common good: overall well-being. Love as justice is needed when we realize our actions are unnecessarily unfair toward the many or the few. As Cornel West likes to put it, “justice is what love looks like in public.”

Finally, promoting overall well-being includes taking into account one’s own good. Unfortunately, some define love solely in terms of what the lover does for others. Implicit in such definitions is the view that we should not love ourselves and love always self-sacrifices. Many feminists help us see the folly in thinking our own well-being must always be undermined. The denial of self-love, they argue, especially keeps women and others in subordinate roles. Linell Cady says those who make “self-sacrifice the primary criterion of the virtuous life” wrongly validate “the situation of oppression.”[25] Love sometimes calls for self-pride, self-empowerment, and self-affirmation.

I believe we should affirm self-love, in the sense of acting for our own good. The lover’s own good is often enhanced when she loves with the common good in mind. Love only sometimes requires self-sacrifice. Acting to promote overall well-being includes considering one’s own well-being.

God and Love

Given the strong connections many people – especially Christians – make between God and love, it seems appropriate to conclude by sketching briefly a theology of love. I’ve written much on this elsewhere, so I’ll limit myself here.[26]

My definition of love in general to applies to God’s love too. In other words, I think God acts intentionally, in response to creation and God’s own life and nature, to promote overall well-being. Having a common love definition for both Creator and creatures seems crucial for making sense of Scripture, including what it means to imitate God, as beloved children, and live a life of love. Love is the same in kind for God and us.

Both God and creatures can express the three categories or forms of love I explored: agape, eros, and philia. God loves “in spite” of harm and sin among creatures, “because of” the value God creates in others and what emerges from creaturely responses, and “alongside of” creatures working for good, or what Christians often call “the kingdom of God.” God is perfectly altruistic and egoistic; God always does good for the sake of others and Godself.

God’s love and creaturely love differ in some ways too. For instance, God is the source of creaturely love: “We love, because he first loved us,” is how John puts it (1 Jn. 4:19). Creatures are not the source of God’s love. God’s love is everlasting and relentless, while creaturely love is sporadic and temporary. God loves all creation, while creatures can only love some creatures. God is our example of perfect love; creatures are not examples of flawless love. In these ways and others, God transcends creation. God’s love differs in degree from creaturely love. “Love divine, all loves excelling,” to quote Charles Wesley’s song.

An especially important difference between God and creatures is that God’s nature is love, but creatures do not have natures of love. Love is God’s heart or essence, we might say, which I take John’s meaning when he says, “God is love.” This means God must love, although God is free to choose how to love. Another of Wesley’s songs about God says it nicely: “Thy Nature and Thy Name is Love.” By contrast, creatures do not love necessarily; their nature and name are not love.

Perhaps most controversially, I believe God’s love never controls others. God always expresses self-giving, others-empowering, and therefore uncontrolling love. I call this view “essential kenosis,” drawing from Paul’s letter to the Philippians (2:1-13). This view helps solve the problem of evil, a problem surveys say is the number one atheists do not believe a God of love exists. I explain essential kenosis in my book, The Uncontrolling Love of God.[27]

Conclusion

Nearly everyone wants to make sense of love. But doing so can be so difficult. The history of love literature and the language of popular culture can confuse even Christians who prize love highly. Making sense of love requires insight, wisdom, and discernment. And the process of understanding love is ongoing.

After surveying the love landscape, I proposed a love definition I believe helpful today. I don’t claim to have love entirely figured out. Words cannot capture reality perfectly, let alone the reality of love. But I offer my definition and theology of love in the hope of helping those who want to make sense of love in our time.

Notes

  1. Irving Singer, The Nature of Love: Plato to Luther, vol. 1, 2nd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), 159.

  2. Much of my book, Defining Love: Philosophical, Scientific, and Theological Engagements, explores the role of science for understanding love (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Brazos, 2010).

  3. Anders Nygren, Agape and Eros, tr. Philip S. Watson (New York: Harper and Row, 1957 [1930]).

  4. Ibid., 48.

  5. Ibid., 31-32.

  6. I provide a lengthy analysis of Nygren’s proposals and the function of love in the New Testament in my book, The Nature of Love: A Theology (St. Louis: Chalice, 2010), ch. 2.

  7. Augustine, Teaching Christianity (De Doctrina Christiana), Edmund Hill, O.P. trans. (Hyde Park, N.Y.: New City Press, 1996).

  8. Ibid., Book 1, paragraph 4

  9. Augustine, Eighty-Three Different Questions, 35, 2.

  10. Augustine, City of God, Book 15, chapter 22

  11. Augustine, Teaching Christianity, Book 1, paragraph 28.

  12. Augustine, Commentaries on the Psalms, 90, 31, 5.

  13. I provide a lengthy analysis of Augustine’s love proposals and metaphysics in my book, The Nature of Love: A Theology (St. Louis: Chalice, 2010), ch. 3.

  14. Harry G. Frankfurt, The Reasons of Love (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004), 11.

  15. Ibid., 16.

  16. James K. A. Smith, You Are What You Love (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Brazos, 2016).

  17. Helen Fisher is a leading figure in relating this material to the wider public. For instance, see her book, The Anatomy of Love rev. ed. (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2016).

  18. Ronald Goetz, “The Rise of a New Orthodoxy,” The Christian Century 103/13 (1986), 385.

  19. I provide lengthy analysis of relational theology in my books, The Nature of Love: A Theology (St. Louis: Chalice, 2010), ch. 2, and The Uncontrolling Love of God: An Open and Relational Account of Providence (Downers Grove, Ill.: Intervarsity Academic, 2016), chs. 5-7.

  20. Vincent Brummer, The Model of Love (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 162, 161.

  21. Charles Hartshorne, Man’s Vision of God (Chicago: Willit, Clark, and Company, 1941), 31.

  22. Charles Hartshorne, Wisdom as Moderation: A Philosophy of the Middle Way (Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1987), 119.

  23. John B. Cobb, Jr. and David Ray Griffin, Process Theology: An Introductory Exposition (Philadelphia: Westminster John Knox, 1977), 41.

  24. For an example, see the essay on love by Susan Hendrick and Clyde Hendrick in Handbook of Positive Psychology, C. R. Snyder and Shane J. Lopez, eds. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002).

  25. Linell Cady, “Relational Love,” in Embodied Love, Paul Cooey, et. al, eds. (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1987), 140.

  26. Among other books, see The Nature of Love: A Theology (St. Louis: Chalice, 2010), Relational Holiness: Responding to the Call of Love, with Michael Lodahl (Kansas City, Mo.: Beacon Hill, 2005), and The Uncontrolling Love of God: An Open and Relational Account of Providence (Downers Grove, Ill.: Intervarsity Academic, 2016).

  27. Thomas Jay Oord, The Uncontrolling Love of God: An Open and Relational Account of Providence (Downers Grove, Ill.: Intervarsity Academic, 2016).

 

Can God Be Essentially Loving Without Being Essentially Social? An Affirmation of and Alternative for Keith Ward

Keith Ward is right.

Ward is right in his book on the Trinity, Christ and the Cosmos: A Reformulation of Trinitarian Doctrine, when he says, “the idea of God as a sort of society is a bad idea” (x).[1]

Christian theology would make betters sense if Christians did not say God is comprised of three persons, each with distinct centers of consciousness, distinct freedoms, distinct responsibilities, distinct wills, and distinct relations between one another. This formulation of the Trinity is more tritheistic than monotheistic. Christians need not appeal to mystery when the social Trinity’s problematic implications become evident. They should reject the concept of the social Trinity. God is one, and God has one mind and will.

For a host of reasons, Christians should conceive of the Trinity more like Ward does. One God instantiates in three forms that includes other-creation, relationship, and inclusion. A doctrine of the Trinity expressed in these terms should prove more winsome for most 21st century contexts.

In the remainder of this review, I will address what Ward gets right, why the social Trinity has been attractive, and how I think Ward should adapt his view. I’ll argue that Ward should affirm that God necessarily loves creation, necessarily relates to creatures, and necessarily creates.

Ward’s Doctrine of God

Ward is right about the general doctrine of God he proposes.

Ward rightly rejects theologies closely derived from ancient Greek philosophical notions of God, which proposed on divine timelessness and God as a substance. The Greek philosophical aversion to change and its appreciation for static categories fail to fit well the broad biblical witness. These notions fail to match how Christians relate to God in their piety. And they fail to make sense to many people influenced by contemporary philosophy, culture, and science.

Most appealing in Ward’s doctrine of God is his emphasis upon love. A Christian description of God is “guided by the key teaching that ‘God is love,’” says Ward (86). In fact, God’s love is other-creating and dynamic. God’s goodness is understood in relation to creation, because God is compassionate and seeks cooperation from creatures.

Love is also essential for helpful conceptions of the Trinity. “The threefold form of divine love - as creating finite persons, relating in love to them, and uniting them to the divine life - is the manifestation,” says Ward, “of the supreme goodness of God as creative, self-giving, and universally inclusive love” (62). Divine love is expressed “naturally” in these ways.

Ward is right in how he thinks about God’s love and freedom in relation to evil. God must love, says Ward, because God does not have moral freedom. And God cannot choose evil (167). “Yet evil must have its origin in God,” argues Ward, “since God is the cause of everything other than God. Therefore some things originate in God, but not by [God’s] choice. They presumably arise by necessity” (162). God’s freedom is “necessarily conditioned” (165).

Other dimensions of Ward’s doctrine of God are also winsome. Ward rightly says that some aspects of God – the divine nature – do not change, while other aspects – divine personal experience – change. Ward rejects the classic view of divine simplicity, because it undermines the personal and relational aspects of God. God is simple, however, in the sense that God does not have separate and independent parts. God is one subject. The most natural reading of the biblical narrative, says Ward, is that God relates and responds to creation, thereby seeking synergistic cooperation from creatures.

Ward is an open and relational theologian who believes that God essentially experiences time in some way analogous to how creatures experience it. In other words, God is temporal in some respects. This time-full God does not have one, preordained plan to be worked out in a predetermined and precise way. God wills that creatures cooperate in the work to create new expressions of love and goodness, and that plan can take many forms (77-78).

Ward is right to say the language of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit need not be truth of the divine being in itself. In God, there is “one will and experience,” Ward puts it, “necessarily instantiated in different forms by Father, Son, and Spirit” (229). On alien worlds, God would likely not take the form or be expressed well in the language of Father, Son, and Spirit. Ward calls his view of the trinity “cosmic,” because it “conceives of God in relation to a hugely expanded cosmos and not just to humans on this planet” (221).

Why So Many Find the Social Trinity Appealing

If Ward is right that the social view of the Trinity is problematic, why have so many Christians – including leading 20th century theologians like Jürgen Moltmann, Wolfhart Pannenberg, and John Zizioulas – been attracted to it? The answers vary, and Ward addresses them directly.

Scripture

Some adopt the concept of the social Trinity, because they assume scripture supports it. The Bible is at best ambiguous, however, in support for this concept. And unfortunately, says Ward, “the social view arises from a dubious projection of the economic trinity onto the immanent trinity” (221). Scripture can more easily be marshalled to support Ward’s alternative doctrine of the Trinity.

Ward rightly says that the synoptic gospels do not provide a doctrine of the social Trinity. Jesus is not recorded by any of the synoptic gospel writers as claiming to be coeternal with God, for instance, or a coequal in the Trinity. Such an idea, Ward rightly says, comes from Christian theologians later in history who attempted to understand Jesus’ relation to God.

John’s Gospel is most helpful for crafting a viable doctrine of the Trinity. John speaks of Jesus as the Word become flesh. The Word “is an eternal possibility made actual,” says Ward, “first as an eternal Ideal in the mind of God, and then (incarnated) in a finite subject” (57). The Word is not one divine person among other divine persons.

The New Testament letters are also ambiguous when it comes to Trinitarian concerns. They can be interpreted in ways that either support or undermine the concept of the social Trinity. Biblical writers typically speak of the Spirit as an impersonal force or power, however, not a person. “The spirit is a creative energy of God,” says Ward, “which empowers and fills the inner life of Jesus” (81). Few if any biblical passages speak of the Holy Spirit as a distinct person with a will.

Christ expresses divine wisdom. The man Jesus expresses Christ by revealing the nature of God as loving and compassionate. The Spirit is not only active in Jesus but also works with creatures who can express various forms of the cosmic Christ. Christ can be expressed in, as Ward puts it, “a vast throng of created species and forms of life” (71).

Ward’s biblical arguments in Christ and the Cosmos are more extensive than what I offer here. He rightly concludes, however, that the biblical text does not fit well the notion of a social Trinity.

Ward affirms a different concept of the Trinity. “The New Testament, taken as a whole,” says Ward, “speaks of God as a dynamic, creative, and relational reality, a reality known in a basic threefold relation to a created world” (72). This is not modalism, says Ward, if by modalism we mean that God appears as three but has no three-fold reality. Ward believes God has a three-fold reality as creator, relator with creation, and transformer of creation. The words “Father, Son, and Spirit” are symbols of this inherent threefoldness. We don’t need a social Trinity of three distinct persons to affirm this three-fold divine reality.

God as Essentially Relational Love

Like Ward, many believe the Trinity tells us something vital about God’s love. In fact, several influential theologians believe the social trinity affirms the relationality necessary for God’s love. The Christian tradition’s emphasis upon God as “three persons in one substance,” however, has the unfortunate effect of sounding like God is simultaneously three and yet static. Some theologians argue that God is not static, and God essentially expresses love within the relations of the divine persons.

The social trinity ostensibly provides theologians a metaphysical structure for the claim that God is essentially love and essentially relational. If love essentially requires giving and receiving between at least two, saying God is a social trinity of three persons with individual freedoms and intellects supports the view that “God is love.” God can be thought to be everlastingly and necessarily loving, according to this view, because God is everlastingly and necessarily loving within the Trinity.

The Cappadocian fathers and, more recently, John Zizioulas argue for the cogency of three divine persons as necessary for a God who essentially loves. Ward explains their position: “If God is essentially love, then love must exist in God, and so there must be a person or a society of persons to fulfill their own beings in loving one another, and that means God must be a society of loving persons” (149).
The problem with the social trinity consisting of three persons with distinct relations, wills, freedoms, and consciousnesses, as we’ve seen, is that it smacks of tritheism. Three Gods could love each other eternally. But one God, without parts, has no divine relations. “We should not think of Father and Son apart from creation as exhibiting mutual, relational, self-giving love,” says Ward (118). Zizioulas and the Cappadocian fathers rightly stress the “ontological primacy of personhood over impersonal substance,” says Ward, but the social Trinity they espouse results in tritheism (150).

Is there a way to affirm God as essentially loving without adopting the social Trinity and its tritheistic implications? I believe there is.

Must a Non-Social Trinitarian God Create Finite Others?

One way to affirm that God is essentially loving is to say God essentially creates and essentially relates to creaturely others. And God has always – everlastingly – been creating and relating. In fact, I find this proposal the most plausible accounts for the primacy of love in God. It does not require belief in a social Trinity, because it says God everlastingly loves finite creatures whom God creates. When I discovered in Christ and the Cosmos that Ward rejects the concept of the social Trinity but affirms love as essential to God, I wondered what he might think of the idea that God has always been creating and relating to creation.

A key question that quickly emerges in the question of God’s essential love is this: Must God create some universe? I think so. In several passages, Ward seems open to the possibility that God must create. But he’s not committed to it. Ward argues, for instance, that “having a universe is a necessary condition of realizing values of creative freedom, self-development, and cooperative relationship” (26). And because God is, as Ward says, “other-creating love,” one would think Ward should affirm that God necessarily creates some universe.

Ward explains his view: “If God is essentially love,” he says, “then some form of creation of others may indeed be a natural expression of the divine being. That does not mean that God must necessarily and always have created others to love. It means only that the expression of God's nature makes it natural that God will (not necessarily without beginning or intermission or end!) at some point create other persons in order to realize the divine nature as loving in relation to them” (180)

Notice the “may indeed be” phrase in this quote. And notice Ward’s use of “natural.” The “may indeed be” phrase expresses Ward’s hesitancy to commit to the notion that God necessarily creates. But perhaps more importantly, Ward’s use of “natural” twice in this passage is telling. I’ll return to this.

Related to the question of whether God must create is this question: Must God be related to some universe and/or creaturely persons? I think so. Ward is open to that idea too.

Ward argues that “if God is a relational being characterized by love, that relation must be to non-divine persons, and not a sort of secret self-love” (182). Ward’s reference to a “secret self-love” is a jab at the concept of the social Trinity. But more importantly, he realizes that a non-social triune God must be related to creaturely others.

Ward entertains a thought experiment on this issue: “it might be possible to hold that God, if and in so far as God is truly love, must be related to some form of other being. If so, God necessarily creates something other to which to be related.…” (124). Ward is expressing here the position I find most plausible. But immediately after these words, Ward says, “That is an interesting possibility, though most Christian theologians have not accepted it. I admit that I am half-inclined to accept it, though I draw back at the thought of presuming to know what is necessary for God to be God” (124).

Notice again the qualifying language: “might be,” “interesting possibility,” “half-inclined to accept it.” And notice that Ward is wary of presuming God has necessary relations to creation, apparently because he’s not sure this is essential to what it means to be divine.

In this passage and others in Christ and the Cosmos, Ward seems to use “maybe” language, because he is reluctant to speculate about God's nature. “Though we cannot comprehend the divine essence,” he argues, “we are entitled to say that God is essentially personal and loving, knowing, and creative, because these are necessary condition of God’s appearing to us as God does” (127). Ward seems to think it is proper to talk about how God appears to us, but he is wary of making statements about the divine nature in itself.

Yet Ward wants to give some reason for why God appears to us in the way God does. And the word Ward uses to express this reason is “natural.” The word functions in the following quote as it does often elsewhere in Ward’s book: “An agape loving God would have to create some other persons, but they would be qualitatively different from God and would be chosen from among many alternatives. In any case, it is not clear that God necessarily has to love in an agapistic way, even though it might be natural for God to do so…” (192).

In these words, Ward is again pondering the possibility of God necessarily creating others, because a relational God of love requires others to love. It would be “natural” for God to love nondivine others in what Ward calls this “agapistic way.”

Let’s look at one more passage from Christ and the Cosmos that addresses these concerns. Ward says “I am not convinced that God can only realize the divine nature by creating a new universe so that creation becomes necessary to God be what God is. But I do accept that God has actually expressed the divine being as agapistic love by the creation of finite persons. I think this must be seen as a normal and proper expression of the divine nature, but I regarded as a step too far to say that this is what God had to do it and that there is no other way in which God could fully be God” (220).

Again, we find Ward appealing to what is “natural” for God. Creating finite others is “normal and proper.” But he is wary of the idea that creation is necessary to God.

As I pondered Ward’s argument here, I wondered what the word “natural” is really doing. The word is a cousin to another word often used in this discussion: “nature.” It is natural for a thing or being to do what is its nature. Ward admits that some attributes or activities of God are necessary to God’s nature.

At the end of my pondering, I cannot see any real difference between saying God “naturally” creates finite others and saying God necessarily creates finite others. Both “naturally” and “necessarily” derive from God’s nature. The semantic difference is negligible. While I endorse Ward’s reluctance to over-speculate what God must, may, or cannot do, we both eventually end up making claims about at least some aspects of God’s nature. In my view, Ward should set aside his worries and simply embrace the view that God necessarily and everlastingly creates, relates with, and love finite others.

God Everlastingly Creates Out of Creation in Love

Ward considers but is not quite ready to accept the view that God, in love, necessarily and continually creates and relates to nondivine others. He is aware of some typical criticisms of the view. But I was happy to read that he does not find these usual criticisms convincing.

Ward wards off the criticism that a God who necessarily creates could not be free. “Logically speaking,” says Ward, “the necessary creation of some universe of finite persons would not impugn the divine freedom, and it would leave the creation of this specific universe and the persons in it as a truly free divine act” (182). I agree.

Throughout Christ and the Cosmos, Ward seems to have in mind God necessarily creating one or a few universes. But his argument fits just as nicely with the view that God creates continually and everlastingly. In fact, Ward quotes Norman Kretzmann favorably in support this shared logic: “God’s will is necessitated as regards whether to create, but fully free as regards what to create” (255). A God who everlastingly creates also has freedom – although Ward would agree that divine love constrains this freedom – to create various creatures or universes.

Ward wards off a second common criticism of the idea that God creates necessarily and everlastingly. Some argue that this makes God overly dependent upon creation. Ward says that we might “suppose that God is essentially loving… Then it might be true that this entails that God creates some other object to love… It does not follow… that this makes God dependent on creation. It is God alone who wills that creation should exist as a condition of realizing the divine nature as love. That is not a question of God being dependent on something completely independent of God” (194).

In a related passage, he says that “if some creation was necessary to God, that would not make God dependent upon something other than God. God would still be the creator of everything other than God, and creation would then be an essential divine property, rather than as I think it is, a contingent and gratuitous act of divine grace” (220-221). I agree. God can exist necessarily while simultaneously necessarily create and relate to creatures.

A third common criticism of the idea that God necessarily and everlastingly creates is that this notion requires an eternal universe. Ward does not ward off this criticism. And his comments about God necessarily creating make me wonder if it worries him. He writes, “Love may be God's nature, but even supposing that such love entails that God must create an object for God to love, it seems obvious that this object must be genuinely other than God and need not exist everlastingly but only for a finite time” (194).

I agree that the creatures God creates do not exist everlastingly but only for a finite time. But this is not an argument against the idea that God everlastingly creates. After all, God could everlastingly create creatures, one after another, who each exist for a finite time. No one creature would be essential to God’s nature. And each would be contingent. Each creature, world, or universe, to use Ward’s words, “could have been different or might not have existed - God did not have to create this universe in particular” (19). But according to the view I’m proposing, relating to contingent creation would be essential to God. And God would everlastingly be creating contingent creatures whom God loves.

Of course, accepting that God everlastingly creates out of creation in love would mean rejecting creatio ex nihilo. Some might criticize the view because it undermines this long-standing view in the Christian tradition. But I don’t think Ward would worry too much about foregoing creatio ex nihilo. There’s no explicit reference to the doctrine in the Bible. And the tradition has embraced it for reasons that, as I mentioned above, he think are not legitimate. Besides, Ward could embrace an alternative view, something like creatio ex creatione en amore: God always creates out of creation in love

Saying God always creates out of creation in love and has been doing so everlastingly also provides Ward a way to avoid saying, as I quoted him earlier, that God is the source of evil. Ward rightly says the possibility for evil emerges by necessity. But affirming a God who necessarily and everlastingly creates from what God previously created offers a simpler explanation for evil’s origin. The possibility for evil is necessary among creaturely action, because some creaturely causation is at play whenever God creates, and a God of uncontrolling love cannot control creatures entirely.

Conclusion

Keith Ward is right about so much of what he says in Christ and the Cosmos. But I encourage him to endorse that God “naturally” creates creaturely others. I encourage him to say that such creating is necessary for a God who essentially loves. I encourage him to endorse the idea that God has everlastingly been creating finite others. The God who has always been creating others has relational love as an essential attribute. If we endorse this view of God, we need not be tempted to embrace the concept of the social Trinity, with its implicit tritheism.

Notes

  1. Keith Ward, Christ and the Cosmos: A Reformulation of Trinitarian Doctrine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015).

 

Biology, Relatedness, and Full-Orbed Love

A relatively unexplored field of scholarly interest is emerging, and I call it the “love-and-science symbiosis.” While in one sense from antiquity many have at least implicitly affirmed a relationship between science and love, the contemporary discussion addresses various issues arising in this exchange overtly and methodologically.[1] Many are finding that the association of love and science generates abundant possibilities for creative transformation.[2] If love resides at the core of humanity’s moral and religious concerns and if science continues to sculpt humanity’s ways of living and its worldviews, those engaged in the love-and-science exchange will likely find themselves engaged in matters of enormous consequence.

It is my belief that process and relational thought can provide constructive resources for forming theories of science and love adequate for this budding field. Process and relational thought provides a philosophical vision that corresponds with general hypotheses and presuppositions of science while also opposing metaphysical schemes that have undermined coherent conceptions of love. Hypotheses pertaining to interrelatedness, freedom, values, and deity comprise the heart of what I contend are vital elements for a coherent and adequate theory for the love-and-science exchange. Perhaps Schubert Ogden’s words best express the importance of process and relational thought for an adequate notion of religious love:

At worst, faith’s testimony to God’s love has been all but completely obscured by an idolatrous exaltation of absolute and unchanging Being, while, even at best, it has been given only [a] kind of broken or inconstant conceptual expression . . .. Consequently, the deep reason for a theological rejection of classical metaphysics is not that such an outlook no longer commends itself to reasonable men, important as it is that we should recognize that fact and face up to its implications. No, the more profound reason is that such a metaphysics never has allowed, and, in principle, never could allow, an appropriate theological explication of the central theme of [John] Wesley’s evangelical witness, that God is love.[3]

The remainder of this essay explores one aspect – organismic relatedness – of a theory of love that I believe is most adequate for the science-of-love exchange.[4]

Love

To date, most work in the love-and-science field has involved accounting for what scientists typically call “altruism” and many religious leaders influenced by Christianity have called “agape.”[5] The issues are complex and the language often confuses.

The philosophy of biology has presented the raw materials for various theories of love and their implications as they pertain to altruism and egoism. Most engaged in sociobiology and evolutionary psychology accept as empirically justified the claim that organisms must act selfishly if they are to survive and thrive.[6] In this context, accounting for what seems to be altruistic behavior is at issue. Dominant evolutionary theory suggests that organisms inevitably act egoistically when securing their own existence at the expense of others.[7] Whenever organisms seem to act altruistically, they are actually motivated by or survive because of selfish reasons. For instance, the reciprocal (or tit-for-tat) altruism explanation suggests that organisms act self-sacrificially only when expecting a beneficial response.[8] Kin-selection altruism suggests that organisms act in ways that undermine their own survival in order to propagate their genetic lineage. The selfish inclination to insure the proliferation of one’s genes motivates these altruistic actions toward kin.[9] The group-selection explanation for altruism suggests that altruists gather so that as a group they can thrive in competition with groups inhabited by predominately selfish individuals. While group-selection theory accounts for how altruism might emerge and succeed, it also suggests that “niceness” can predominate within a group while “nastiness” prevails between groups.[10]

An examination of the literature pertaining to agape reveals that scholars of ethics, culture, and religion propose widely divergent definitions of this love word. Some merely adopt agape as a way to distinguish their love theories from romantic or popular theories.[11] Others, following Anders Nygren’s lead, employ agape to distinguish it from other love-types, particularly eros and philia.[12] Ethicist Gene Outka uses it to refer to an ethics of impartiality or equal-regard.[13] Some draw upon agape to specify what they call variously “unconditional,” “pure,” or “unlimited” love, with the latter designation entailing universal acceptance of others.[14] Sometimes agape is defined as the mutuality of God-others-self relations.[15] A few equate it with altruism.[16] Agape has been equated with self-sacrifice, gift-love,[17] and bestowal.[18] Some theists believe that agape, unlike other love types, is derived from or inspired by deity.[19] Elsewhere, I have defined agape love as action that promotes well-being when responding to activity that has generated ill-being, which is another way of saying that agape repays evil with good. These definitions obviously generate or reflect widely divergent agendas, expectations, religious orientations, and philosophical presuppositions. The words of Robert Adams apply well to the love-and-science exchange: “‘Agape’ is a blank canvas on which one can paint whatever ideal of . . . love one favors.”[20]

One of my own responses/contributions to the love-and-science exchange has been to argue for what I call “full-orbed love.” I believe that those in the exchange should consider full-orbed love as a potentially more adequate conception of love.[21] By “love,” I mean intentional actions done in sympathetic response to others and motivated to increase the common good. To say it another way, love acts are influenced by previous actions and executed in the hope of attaining a high degree of overall well-being. The “full-orbed” element indicates that diverse types of love are required for the enhancement of overall well-being. For instance, any one of the three love archetypes, agape, eros, and philia, may need to be expressed in a particular situation; furthermore, no one archetype is privileged in full-orbed love. In terms of altruism and egoism, full-orbed love contends that overall well-being requires both motivations. This contention dulls the edge of a charge often raised in debates of evolutionary psychology that discounts the legitimacy of altruism by claiming that every altruistic act incorporates an egoistic element.[22] In short, I contend that greater progress can be made in the love-and-science exchange if the concept and principles of full-orbed love were employed, rather the exclusive employment of agape, altruism, or other single love types.

Organismic Relatedess

Love requires relations.[23] While this may seem as obvious as saying “snow is cold,” what is meant by “relations” is typically not clearly delineated. In the remainder of this essay, I address implications of the experiential truth that love requires relatedness. In doing so, I turn first to presuppositions of science and then to a philosophical vision inspired by process philosophy. These two general realms provide vital resources for conceptualizing one element – organismic relatedness – essential for a coherent and adequate theory of love that corresponds with the emphasis upon love arising from Wesleyanism.

The general principles of science and the practices of scientists presuppose that existing things relate to other existing things. Unfortunately, this presupposition is rarely made explicit in scientific writing. From theories of relativity and the interaction in micro-world explored by physicists to social theories related to global politics and economics proposed by social scientists, the often unstated assumption is that cause and effect occurs because existing things relate one with another.

The relatedness of existence is perhaps most effectively assumed in evolutionary theory. Although a great deal of debate occurs about which mechanisms drive evolution, the majority of those engaged in research and debate agree that biological life emerges through a process of random variations, natural selection, and adaptation in an environment. Evolutionary theory assumes that nature is a network of interacting organisms, and various forms of organismic life arise through interaction and, at least to some degree, chance.

Mendelian-inspired genetic theory points to the variations of genes as a crucial factor in the evolution of life. The thesis that evolution implies relatedness is evident in the Mendelian claim that genetic variations are passed on through reproduction. Although few today would argue that the organism purposefully acts in ways to change its own genetic structure (as LaMarck more than a century ago), many do assume that mutations occur among genes because of relations within an environment. Often tragic occurrences, like the effects of radiation on humans by the Chernobyl nuclear disaster, illustrate the profound influence of a gene’s environmental relations. Furthermore, because some organisms select the environment in which they relate – at least to some extent – these organisms indirectly affect the mutation of their own genes. For example, some people choose to remain in homes in which high levels of radon have been detected, and this choice results in these individuals being exposed to genetic altering radiation. Furthermore, some scientists, such as Stuart Kaufman, make the controversial argument that proteins affect genes, and this relationship in turn affects the mutation or recombination of the genetic structure.[24] Ford Doolittle argues even more strongly for what amounts to inter-genetic acquisition and exchange, and this relational activity “may be the dominant force over the evolutionary long run.”[25] Often those outside the field of biology remind biological theorists that sub-genetic interaction at the quantum level influences DNA.[26] A full explanation of the variety of genetic relations, however, has not been successfully advanced: “Causation is not thought about very deeply in genomics,” admits biologist Adam Arkin of the University of California at Berkeley. “We have not derived the dynamical laws for the genomes. We are simply hitting the cell and hearing what the ring sounds like.”[27]

Darwin’s classic evolutionary position is that the particular environment in which an individual organism emerges largely shapes whether that organism will survive and/or thrive. In other words, relations in an environment play a large role in determining how an organism gains an advantage over other organisms competing for the same resources. In fact, the negative effects of environmental damage on individual organisms have been documented and often raised to public awareness by those acutely concerned with the practices that destroy ecosystems in which these individuals live. This individual selection approach remains a powerful explanatory force in contemporary biology, although some suggest that a multi-level selection approach accounts for more of the data.

While for several decades individual selection has played an almost exclusive explanatory role in evolutionary theory and the role of genetic mutation has come to play a dominant role today in evolutionary theory, recent years witness a shift to the explanatory power of the group-selection theory. Group-selection theory powerfully illustrates my thesis that evolutionary theory presupposes organismic relatedness. Some survive or thrive and others do not, says the group-selection hypothesis, because of intra-group cooperation and intra-species interaction. Biologist David Sloan Wilson and philosopher Elliott Sober document growing evidence that groups serve as adaptive units, and the selection factors related to how one group fares compared to other groups function as a key evolution operant.[28] In his research published as Cooperation Among Animals: An Evolutionary Perspective, biologist Lee Alan Dugatkin chronicles the fitness advantage of intra-group cooperative relatedness. In fact, Dugatkin devotes individual chapters to disclosing scientific research on cooperation through relations among fish, birds, nonprimate mammals, nonhuman primate mammals, and insects.[29]

Perhaps biologists detect examples of relational interaction more readily among complex nonhuman creatures, because the behavior of these creatures more closely corresponds with human behavior than behavior among entities at the molecular level. In fact, one might argue that these examples of relations and interaction by nonhuman entities are nothing more than anthropomorphic projections by scientific observers. This debate hinges on an epistemological question: How can we know about the experience and behavior of those beyond ourselves?

An essential aspect of an adequate epistemology is the contention that what we know best – our own experience – should greatly inform our theories of knowledge. An epistemology based upon introspection and extrapolation from personal experience is a necessary element in speculating about how we know the experiences and behaviors of those beyond ourselves. This epistemological principle also applies to what might be said about our knowledge of nonhuman relations.[30] This does not mean that we take all elements we detect in our experience, including, for instance, self-consciousness, and read these into the behavior of all organisms. But to begin with what we know least, including, for instance, the activity of genes, and then impose this meager data upon what we know best also cannot suffice. This practice led to the many unlivable scientific philosophies proposed in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.[31] The speculative work to be done comes in formulating the ways and degrees to which nonhuman experiences, including relatedness, are analogous to our own experience, including our own awareness of relatedness. In terms of love, this involves analyzing the structures of human experience while also accounting for what can be perceived of nonhuman experience as outside observers. The love humans express is likely not different in kind from the love of nonhumans; while observers will likely find that human love differs from nonhuman love in degree and complexity.[32]

That humans relate one with another via cause and effect can only be denied at the peril of committing a performative self-contradiction. Our knowledge of this is as definite as almost anything we claim to know. That is, someone may deny verbally the notion that humans are influenced through relations with others, but each of us inevitably exhibits in practice cause-and-effect relations. Whitehead formulated this performative principle as “the metaphysical rule of evidence: that we must bow to those presumptions, which, in despite of criticism, we still employ for the regulation of our lives.”[33]

Drawing upon Whitehead’s scattered statements about this matter, David Ray Griffin calls these presumptions “hard-core commonsense notions,” by which he means those beliefs that everyone affirms in practice although some may deny verbally. “We can be confident that particular ideas belong to our set of hard-core commonsense beliefs,” argues Griffin, “insofar as we see that they are inevitably presupposed by all human beings, regardless of cultural-linguistic shaping.”[34] This means that, “any scientific, philosophical, or theological theory is irrational,” contends Griffin, “to the extent that it contradicts whatever notions we inevitably presuppose in practice.”[35]

Relatedness through causal influence is one hard-core commonsense notion that everyone assumes in practice. Scientists assume causal influence through relatedness each time they engage in scientific experimentation. The actions of scientists toward and observation of data beyond themselves reveal their implicit acknowledgement that they experience cause and effect relations with what they study. Ironically, any scientist who attempts to convince others that cause-and-effect relations do not exist would be affirming such relations in that very attempt.

I conclude this segment with one further suggestion. If love requires relations, if humans inevitably relate in cause-and-effect interaction, and if nonhuman organisms down to the smallest of entities also express interactive relations, then one appears justified in claiming that relations as a requirement for love is a natural expression of what it means to be. To say it another way, organismic relatedness is not an emergent property requiring unnatural forces for its appearance. The ability to love – at least as far as relatedness is concerned – is also available to nonhumans. In future chapters, I will argue that the other love requisites – freedom, values, and relations with God – are also available to nonhumans and need not be imposed by unnatural forces.

A Theory of Relations Adequate for Love

Previous paragraphs briefly indicate that scientific theory and the actual practice of scientists presuppose that existing things relate to other existing things. Organismic relatedness resides at the heart of how we understand the world and act in it. General science not only refrains from creating obstacles to the speculation that organismic relatedness is a love requisite, but one who attempts to construct a theory of love adequate for the love-and-science exchange can turn to science for an ally.

To acknowledge that (1) love requires relations and (2) scientific theory and practice presuppose organismic relatedness does not, in itself, supply a conceptual framework for comprehending love relations.[36] For such a framework, I turn to the process philosophy of Whitehead. Those in the science-and-religion dialogue have often acknowledged that their conversation actually involves a triad of speakers, with philosophy entering as the third party. Whitehead himself believed this triad to be necessary, arguing that we “cannot shelter theology from science, or science from theology; nor can [we] shelter either one from metaphysics, or metaphysics from either one of them. There is no shortcut to the truth.”[37] In recent decades, many in the science and religion dialogue have turned to process thought as a philosophical resource.[38] I believe that the love-and-science exchange would do well to turn to Whitehead, in specific, and process thought, in general, for the philosophical element of its conversational triad.

The ultimacy of relations in Whitehead’s metaphysical scheme leads many to consider him a “relational” philosopher and the theology that has emerged from his influence has been referred to as “relational theology.” Because all organisms are influenced through their relations with others, Whitehead speculates that existence consists of the “essential relatedness of all things.”[39] This emphasis upon relations and its implications for what might be said about organismic relations as a requisite for love is one reason why Whitehead’s thought is helpful for the love-and-science exchange.

At the heart of Whitehead’s philosophical proposals is his speculation that all existing things are experiential. Moments of experience are, as he put it, “the final real things of which the world is made up.”[40] Although the specific constitutions of each experiential entity differ radically, “in the principles which actuality exemplifies, all are on the same level.”[41] Whitehead contrasts existing things as experiential with that which he believed to be fictional: nonexperiencing substances he called “vacuous actualities.”[42] David Ray Griffin employs the word “panexperientialism” to capture the claim that all existing entities, from complex creatures like humans to less complex organisms, are experiential. The value that the panexperientialist hypothesis might contribute for science, culture, religion, and philosophy is, as Griffin has recently pointed out, enormous.[43]

The vast majority of experiential entities studied by scientists are what Whitehead called enduring individuals. To be more technical, Whitehead said that such organisms are personally ordered society of occasions of experience. A “society” is a set of entities whose members share a defining characteristic due mainly to the environment provided by the society itself.[44] “Personal order” means that the society inherits the form of the whole from its predecessor and then hands that form on to its successor.[45] A living person is an enduring individual that inherits its basic structure from its personal past but whose immediate self-determination is unique.[46] This accounts for the continuous self-identity creatures typically experience without making self-identity absolute, in the sense of absence of any personal change.[47] Enduring individuals are experiential organisms that relate to others.

The hypothesis that all existing organisms are fundamentally experiential provides a crucial basis for constructing various elements of an adequate and coherent theory of love. With regard to its value for understanding organismic relatedness as a love requisite, it provides a basis for conceptualizing how it is that organisms are both internally and externally related to others. While it may be obvious to many that love requires relations, distinguishing relatedness into these two types of relations allows one to clarify more precisely what it means to say that all organisms relate and that love requires relations.

By “internal relations,” I mean that each experiential organism becomes what it is by its partial inclusion of prior experiences. Whitehead calls the activity of past organisms upon an organism presently in the throes of becoming “prehension.”[48] Through an organism’s internal relations with past others, the “production of novel togetherness” occurs.[49] This means that “every actual entity is what it is and is with its definite status in the universe,” says Whitehead, because “its internal relations to other actual entities” shape it.[50] Each experiential organism begins with an openness to the past, and this open window makes possible the organism’s internal relations. Once the influence from the past has entered in, the window closes. The organism enjoys a moment of what biologists call “autopoesis” as it forms itself in response to past influences. To be constituted by internal relations to those who have come before is the very nature of what it means to arise into existence.[51] To say it another way, every actuality has arisen from the multiplicity its internal relations.

My definition of love includes the phrase, “in sympathetic response,” to account for the internal relations of organisms. I suppose that the actions of lovers do not emerge ex nihilo and that relations with one’s community come prior to individual decision and contribution. Love arises out of sympathetic response to preceding actions; it begins by feeling the feelings of others. This corresponds with the practice of ethicists, philosophers, and religious scholars who speak of love as tendential, compassionate, or affective-centered.[52] It is this sympathetic response possible due to internal relatedness that provides the basis what biologists call an organism’s “plasticity.”

By the phrase “external relations,” I mean that once an organism comes to be, it affects other organisms that will arise in the future and those who come after it cannot change it. Whitehead likes to explain this asymmetrical influence upon future others by saying that “it belongs to the nature of a ‘being’ that it is a potential for every ‘becoming’.”[53] Just as each organism, through its internal relations drew upon its relations with others as it came into existence, each organism subsequently becomes datum for future organisms as they come into being. Or, as Whitehead puts it, “Life is an internal fact for its own sake, before it is an external fact relating itself to others.”[54] Charles Hartshorne refers to the cause-and-effect relationality of existence when he speaks of “the social nature of reality,” in which “to be decided in part by others is essential to being as such.”[55]

My definition of love includes the notion that love entails attaining a high degree of overall well-being. This often, but not always, includes attaining a high degree of well-being for oneself. Here, the interrelatedness of existence is expressed in reciprocity. In a cosmos in which all existing things are interrelated, each one’s own fulfillment is linked with the fulfillment of others. The loving act done to attain a high degree of overall well-being often results in the lover enjoying the benefits secured for all. Jesus expressed this principle of reciprocal altruism when he urged his listeners to “give and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back” (Lk. 6:38). In the theory of love I propose, which is undergirded by the presupposition that organisms are interrelated, altruism and egoism become blurred.[56]

Although, by hypothesis, all creatures are relational organisms, this does not mean that any one creature is affected by or affects absolutely all others via cause-and-effect relations. The influence that an organism has through external relations with others is limited. So too, the influence upon the present individual by those who have come before is also limited. Localized individuals sympathize positively with only some others, and the complexity of an organism’s perceptive capacities partially affects the scope of an organism’s sympathy. Relatively simple organisms will feel, in a positive way, relatively few others. And simple organisms are likely to feel positively only those with whom they are most closely associated, which is a hypothesis that supports the core notion of kin altruism. One reason that creatures do not always act to increase overall well-being (i.e., love) is that their finitude necessarily limits their capacity for sympathy.

The father of the modern love-and-science exchange, Pitirim Sorokin, calls the range of relations an organism possesses its “extensivity.” While he states that the extensivity of humans is inevitably higher than that of an ant, his main argument is that humans themselves act from an extensive range of awareness of the good of others. Sorokin interviewed people and found that many are altruistic only toward friends and family, which means that their altruistic extensivity was low. From his interviews, he concludes that what he calls “the tragedy of tribal altruism” is a major obstacle to the worldwide pursuit of love. Like biologists who speak of kin altruism and group-selection theory, the sociologist Sorokin found that individuals rarely express in-group altruistic behavior alongside out-group altruism.[57]

One element for acting in ways that increase overall well-being, then, is the broadening, to the extent possible, of one’s relational sympathies. In other words, effective expressions of love occur when individuals act out of broad awareness and the interest that accompanies broad awareness. Whitehead puts it this way: “Morality of outlook is inseparably conjoined with generality of outlook.”[58] However, the fact that creatures sympathize more with those nearest and to whom they most often relate (which includes family, friends, and their personal futures) does not mean that acting in the interest of those near and dear precludes acting for the common good. The essential interrelatedness of all existence entails that actions done for the genuine good of those family, friends, and self affect the common good, and how one expresses love to those near and dear must involve awareness, to the extent possible, of how this action might impact the whole. In this way, what seem to be our natural preferences for those we know intimately need not be in conflict with the increase of overall well-being.

The essential relatedness of all existents implies that there is no individual, including God, who is wholly independent or isolated. All existents are relational. The theistic tradition that has emerged from Whitehead’s influence has developed his intuition that God, like creatures, also exhibits internal and external relations. God’s internal relations entail that creatures affect deity and this influence partially constitutes the divine experience. God’s external relations, which have been most emphasized in theistic traditions, entail God’s influence upon creatures as they come into begin as experiential organisms. I believe that Wesleyans would be wise to adopt the process conception of divine relations to undergird their contention that love is God’s primary attribute.[59]

Charles Hartshorne calls the essential relatedness of God and the world “panentheism,” which literally means that all things are in God.[60] Panentheism agrees with classical pantheism in its affirmation that God is essentially related to the finite order, without agreeing that God’s essence requires this particular finite order. It agrees with classical theism by affirming that God is distinct from, and not fully governed by, finite relations, without agreeing that God could have chosen not to be in relation with a world. The implication is that panentheism affirms God’s essential internal and external relations with creation. The love-and-science exchange would make greater progress if divine-creaturely interaction were conceived of in terms panentheistic relatedness.[61]

Part of the explanation for why God steadfastly expresses love perfectly is that deity possesses maximal relational extensivity. In other words, one reason God is perfectly good is that deity sympathizes fully with all others. If creaturely organisms had access to the all-inclusive perspective, the likelihood that they would continuously act to secure overall well-being would increase. As I will argue in my final chapter, organismic relations with one who possesses an all-inclusive perspective provides grounds for an optimism that creatures will express love in whatever ways necessary to secure the common good. The Christian notion of prevenient grace provides a general conceptual scheme for speculating how creatures, including humans, interact and rely upon divine love for their own attempts to love in ways that secure greater well-being.

I conclude having argued that Whitehead’s speculation on relationality provides a preferable philosophy for love-and-science exchange as it considers love and organismic relatedness. This speculation provides a philosophical basis that might be used by those who wish to engage in this exchange while carrying into it various beliefs pertaining to the primacy of love.

For more from the author Thomas Jay Oord, see his website https://thomasjayoord.com or the Center for Open and Relational Theology https://c4ort.com

  1. The leader in the overt and methodological approach is The Institute for Research on Unlimited Love, directed by Stephen G. Post.

  2. Noteworthy among those whose books explore some relationship between “religious” love and science are Ralph Burhoe, Toward a Scientific Theology (Belfast: Christian Journals Limited, 1981), Ronald Cole-Turner, The New Genesis: Theology and the Genetic Revolution (Louisville: Westminister/ John Knox, 1992), Philip Hefner, The Human Factor: Evolution, Culture and Religion (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), Thomas Lewis, Fari Amini, and Richard Lannon. A General Theory of Love (New York: Random House, 2000); Nancey Murphy, and George F.R. Ellis, On the Moral Nature of the Universe: Theology, Cosmology, and Ethics (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996); Michel Odent, The Scientification of Love, rev. ed. (London: Free Association, 2001); Pearl M. Oliner, Samuel P. Oliner, Lawrence Baron, Lawrence A. Blum, Dennis L. Krebs, M. Zuzanna Smolenska, eds., Embracing the Other: Philosophical, Psychological, and Historical Perspectives on Altruism (New York: New York University Press, 1992); John Polkinghorne, ed., The Work of Love: Creation as Kenosis (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2001); Stephen J. Pope, The Evolution of Altruism and the Ordering of Love (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1994); Stephen G. Post, Lynn G. Underwood, Jeffrey S. Schloss, and William B. Hurlbutt, eds., Altruism and Altruistic Love: Science, Philosophy, and Religion in Dialogue (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002); Pitirim Sorokin, The Ways and Power of Love: Types, Factors, and Techniques of Moral Transformation (Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation, [1954] 2002); Anthony Walsh, The Science of Love: Understanding Love and Its Effects on Mind and Body (Buffalo, N.Y.: Prometheus, 1991).

  3. Ogden, referring to John Wesley’s evangelical witness, in “Love Unbounded: The Doctrine of God,” The Perkins School of Theology Journal, vol. 19, no. 3 (Spring 1996): 16.

  4. This chapter is the fourth in a projected six-chapter book I am writing on the love-and-science exchange.

  5. Anders Nygren initiated the contemporary emphasis upon agape in his widely influential tome, Agape and Eros (tr. Philip S. Watson [New York: Harper & Row, 1969]). Although the vast majority of love scholars disagree with aspects of Nygren’s proposals, most still wrestle with issues that Nygren raised.

  6. Some participants in the science and religion dialogue make a distinction between evolutionary altruism and psychological altruism. Evolutionary altruism is defined as the enhancement of other’s well-being in terms of the other’s reproductive success. An organism can be said to be altruistic, in this sense, despite having no mode of mind or mentality. Psychological altruism, on the other hand, is defined more generally as merely the enhancement of the other’s general well-being. Unlike evolutionary altruism, psychological altruism assumes the mentality of the actor.

  7. Those most often quoted as advocating this position are Richard Dawkins, The Selfish Gene 2nd ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989) and E.O. Wilson, Sociobiology, On Human Nature (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1978). Although Dawkins claims that his reference to “selfishness” is metaphorical, the use he makes of selfishness leads one to assume that he means that genes really do exhibit selfish behavior.

  8. See R. L. Trivers, “The Evolution of Reciprocal Altruism,” Quarterly Review of Biology 46 (1971): 35-57. This idea is also advanced in what is referred to as “game theory.” See R. Axelrod and W. D. Hamilton, “The Evolution of Cooperation,” Science 211 (1981): 1390-1396.

  9. W. D. Hamilton is generally regarded as the father of modern kin selection, although others spoke of the theory prior to his published work. See Hamilton’s essays, “The Evolution of Altruistic Behavior,” American Naturalist 97 (1963): 354-56; “The Genetical Evolution of Social Behavior I,” Journal of Theoretical Biology 7 (1964): 1-16; “The Genetical Evolution of Social Behavior II,” Journal of Theoretical Biology 7 (1964): 17-52.

  10. With regard to group selection theory, see what is becoming a classic text on the subject: Elliott Sober and David Sloan Wilson, Unto Others: The Evolution and Psychology of Unselfish Behavior (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998).

  11. This is at least how many interpret Denis de Rougemont’s work in Love in the Western World, trans. Montgomery Belgion. rev. ed. (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, [1940] 1983).

  12. Alan Soble, Eros, Agape, and Philia (New York: Paragon, 1989).

  13. Gene Outka, “Agapeistic Ethics,” in A Companion to Philosophy of Religion, ed. Philip L. Quinn and Charles Taliaferro (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1997), 481-488.

  14. Sir John Templeton defines agape as unconditional love and universal acceptance (Agape Love: A Tradition Found in Eight World Religions [Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation Press, 1999]). Stephen G. Post uses “unlimited love” in the way I describe here.

  15. Stephen Post regards agape in this way in his book, A Theory of Agape: On the Meaning of Christian Love. Daniel Day William’s understanding of love is similar (The Spirit and the Forms of Love [New York: Harper and Row, 1968]).

  16. Philip Hefner equates agape and altruism (The Human Factor: Evolution, Culture, and Religion [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993],208).

  17. C. S. Lewis equated agape and gift-love in his widely read book, The Four Loves (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1960).

  18. Irving Singer equates agape with bestowal in his philosophical trilogy, the first and most influential of which is The Nature of Love: Plato to Luther, Vol. 1, 2nd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966, 1984).

  19. Among the more influential or more helpful philosophical and theological texts pertaining to agape and its definition are these: John Burnaby, Amor Dei (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1938), Martin C. D’Arcy, The Mind and Heart of Love, Lion and Unicorn: A Study in Eros and Agape (Cleveland: World, 1964), C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1960), Douglas N. Morgan, Love: Plato, The Bible, and Freud (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1964), David L. Norton and Mary F. Kille, Philosophies of Love (Totowa, N.J.: Rowman and Littlefield), 1988, Nygren, Agape and Eros, Osborne, Eros Unveiled, Outka, Agape, Pope, The Evolution of Altruism and the Ordering of Love, Post, A Theory of Agape, Alan Soble, The Structure of Love (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), Paul Tillich, Love, Power, and Justice: Ontological Analyses and Ethical Applications (New York: Oxford University Press, 1963), Vacek, Love, Human and Divine, and Williams, The Spirit and the Forms of Love.

  20. Robert Merrihew Adams, Finite and Infinite Goods: A Framework for Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 136.

  21. See, for instance, Thomas Jay Oord, “Agape, Altruism, and Well-Being: Full-Orbed Love for the Science and Religion Dialogue,” in Contemporary Philosophy: Philosophic Research, Analysis and Resolution, 25 (2002); An Essentially Loving God: An Open and Relational Theology of Love (In search of a publisher); and “Love Archetypes and Moral Virtue,” in Contemporary Philosophy: Philosophic Research, Analysis and Resolution. 22: 1&2 (Jan/Feb & Mar/Apr 2000), 13-17.

  22. For a discussion of this issue, which is sometimes called the psychological paradox, see Sober and Wilson, Unto Others, chs. 8-10.

  23. Someone may object to the notion that love implies relations between individuals on the ground that a solitary individual could love an ideal, possibility, mathematical formula, or other abstract form – none of which are actual individuals that enjoy internal relations. Attraction to these abstractions should be considered love, it might be claimed, because this attraction is an activity that results in the promotion of greater overall well-being among actual individuals. While I would agree that attraction to abstractions might result in the attainment of greater overall well-being, I contend that actual individuals become aware of such ideals only because of prior influence by other actual individuals – be those individuals creaturely or divine. This prior influence, then, amounts to relatedness.

  24. Stuart Kaufman, “Self-Organization, Selective Adaptationism, and Its Limits: A New Pattern of Inference in Evolution and Development,” in Evolution at the Crossroads, eds. David Depew and Bruce Weber (Cambridge, Ma.: MIT Press, 1985). See also Kaufman’s work, At Home in the Universe (London: Penguin Books, 1995)/

  25. Quoted in “Grappling with Bioterrorism at AAAS,” by Thomas Jay Oord, in Research News and Opportunities in Science and Theology 2:8 (April 2002): 30.

  26. Lothar Shafer makes this argument, and he summarizes his view nicely in “Lothar Shafer’s Quantum View of Evolution,” Research News and Opportunities in Science and Theology 2:8 (April 2002): 26, 31.

  27. Quoted in “Grappling with Bioterrorism at AAAS,” by Thomas Jay Oord, in Research News and Opportunities in Science and Theology 2:8 (April 2002): 30.

  28. Elliot Sober and David Sloan Wilson, Unto Others: The Evolution and Psychology of Unselfish Behavior (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998), chs. 1-5.

  29. Lee Alan Dugatkin, Cooperation Among Animals: An Evolutionary Perspective (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), chs. 3-7.

  30. See Whitehead’s discussion of this as a core element in what he calls the “reformed subjectivist principle” (Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology, corrected edition, ed. David Ray Griffin and Donald W. Sherburne [New York: Free Press, 1978; orig. ed., 1929], 157-167).

  31. I have in mind here those philosophies that emerged from the thought of Thomas Hobbes, David Hume, and Logical Positivism.

  32. If one begins with human love and extrapolates about what this means for nonhuman loving, the question inevitably arises: At what level of organismic complexity did the capacity for love emerge? While the actions of dolphins, dogs, and even mice can be understood in the sense of low-grade intentionality that affects well-being, what about the activity of microorganism? John Cobb has argued that in a loose sense, we can say that all entities love. But he suggests that it is "better to use the term 'love' for something much more limited" (The Structure of Christian Existence [New York: Seabury Press, 1979], 126). That limited realm, according to Cobb, applies to complex organisms like people and animals; but Cobb never explains why this limited attribution is better. I am currently searching for good reasons to opt for either of these two alternatives: (1) love can only be expressed by complex creatures who act ideally or (2) love can be expressed by any entity whatsoever who acts ideally.

  33. Whitehead, Adventures of Ideas, 223.

  34. David Ray Griffin, Reenchantment without Supernaturalism: A Process Philosophy of Religion (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2001), 362.

  35. Ibid., 30.

  36. The necessity of relations with others, it should be noted, does not exclude love of oneself. Even the love of oneself is either (1) action promoting the well-being of the members of one’s own body, or (2) action promoting well-being done in appreciation of one’s past personal interaction with others, or (3) action promoting well-being with one’s future interaction with others in mind. These cases express interrelatedness powerfully. In the first, relations exist between members of one’s own body, in the second, one acknowledges a relationship with others in one’s personal past, and, in the third, one assumes that a future self will someday relate to others and one’s present self. Charles Hartshorne identifies his notion that the second of the great love commands – to love others as ourselves – if the self is understood as exactly identical through time. He writes: “We can love the other as ourselves because even the self as future is also another. . . . On this ground alone I would not give up the even doctrine without the most rigorous proofs of its erroneous” (Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method [LaSalle, Ill.: Open Court, 1970], 198).

  37. Religion in the Making, 79.

  38. Footnote Barbour, Clayton, Cobb, Griffin, Howell, Peacocke, Polkinghorne, Stapp, Stengers, and others.

  39. Whitehead, Adventures of Ideas, 227-228.

  40. Process and Reality, 18.

  41. Ibid.

  42. Ibid., 29, 167, among many other places in his writing.

  43. Especially see Griffin’s Reenchantment without Supernaturalism, ch. 3.

  44. Whitehead, Process and Reality, 89.

  45. Ibid., 34, 35.

  46. John B. Cobb, Jr. and David Ray Griffin, Process Theology: An Introductory Exposition (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1976), 15. See also Whitehead, Process and Reality, 89-91.

  47. Hartshorne calls this self-identity the “quasi-primordial” feature of every enduring individual, because it points to the “individual quality which a man, say, has had during all his life as a person.” Only God has a literally primordial character, having always existed (“Whitehead’s Idea of God,” 531).

  48. Whitehead distinguishes between positive and negative prehensions. A positive prehension is the definite inclusion of an entity into positive contribution to the subject’s own real internal constitution. A negative prehension is the definite exclusion of an entity from positive contribution to the subject’s own internal constitution (Process and Reality, 41).

  49. Process and Reality, 21.

  50. Ibid., 59.

  51. Whitehead writes: “The how of feeling, though it is germane to the data, is not fully determined by the data. The relevant feeling is not settled, as to its inclusions or exclusions of ‘subjective form,’ by the data about which the feeling is concerned” (Process and Reality, 85).

  52. On this, Robert G. Hazo, (The Idea of Love (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1967), 11, passim.; and Stephen Pope, “Love in Contemporary Christian Ethics,” Journal of Religious Ethics 23.1 (Spring 1995): 167.

  53. Ibid., 22, 45, 65, 166.

  54. Alfred North Whitehead, Religion in the Making (New York: Macmillan, 1926; New York: Fordham University Press, 1996), 15-16.

  55. Hartshorne, “Whitehead’s Idea of God,” 527.

  56. There are times, however, when one may love at one’s own personal expense: “We know love by this, that [Jesus] laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another,” the author of First John said to believers (1 Jn. 3:16). God sometimes calls creatures to sacrifice their own well-being for the good of the whole. This means that, as Vacek states, “because God loves not only us but others and also all of creation, we cannot . . . conclude that what God is doing in the world will always be entirely for our good. Some loss to our own well-being will be necessary” (Love, Human and Divine, 188). Unlike localized creatures, however, the good of the omnipresent individual and the common good coincide. Because creatures are not omnipresent, the common good sometimes requires creatures to sacrifice their own present good.

  57. Pitirim Sorokin, The Ways and Power of Love: Types, Factors, and Techniques of Moral Transformation (Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation, [1954] 2002), 459.

  58. Process and Reality, 15.

  59. I argue this point in my currently unpublished manuscript, An Essentially Loving God: An Open and Relational Theology of Love, chs 8-9.

  60. Hartshorne and Reese, Philosophers Speak of God, 499-514. I have come to prefer the word “theocosmocentrism” to describe the necessary relationship between God and the universe, because “panentheism” does not stress the metaphysical necessity of God’s relations with the world.

  61. This is an argument Philip Clayton makes with regard to the science-and-religion dialogue, although, unlike Hartshorne’s theory of panentheism and my own theocosmocentrism (see note above), Clayton understands panentheism to entail God’s contingent relations with all others.

 

Boston Personalism’s Affinities and Disparities with Wesleyan Theology and Process Philosophy

A collection of essays pertaining to the relationship between Wesleyan theology and process thought has been recently published under the title, Thy Name and Thy Nature is Love: Wesleyan and Process Theologies in Dialogue.[2] As co-editor (with Bryan Stone) of this book, I was encouraged by the publisher’s general editorial committee to engage in historical research pertaining to previous interactions between Wesleyan and process thinkers. Given the present-day interest concerning the ideological correlation of these two theological traditions, I was surprised at how little had been written about the affinities these trajectories share.[3] After all, when one considers the general affinities Wesleyan theologies have with various philosophical traditions and ideas, and when one examines the philosophical underpinnings of process theologies, remarkable overlaps and common tendencies become evident. These two traditions often end up on the same side of debates about principal philosophical issues.

A particularly important philosophical tradition to address, when considering these overlaps and common tendencies, is the personalist philosophical tradition. In particular, Boston Personalism has influenced, and been influenced by, both Wesleyanism and process thought. Given the basic affinities between Wesleyanism and Boston Personalism, on the one hand, and between Boston Personalism and process thought, on the other, it may be that the present correlation of Wesleyan theology with process thought is a natural development. In this essay, I will explore this possibility by (1) identifying key ideas and figures in Boston Personalism and noting the general influence this philosophical tradition has had upon American Wesleyan theology and (2) discussing the points of contact between Boston Personalism and process thought. Although there are many Wesleyan theologies and process theologies, I will attempt to address main strands in these complex and diverse theological trajectories.

I. Boston Personalism and Wesleyan Theology

John H. Lavely defines personalism as “a philosophical perspective or system for which person is the ontological ultimate and for which personality is thus the fundamental explanatory principle.”[4] As Edgar S. Brightman explains, “any theory that makes personality the supreme philosophical principle (that is, supreme in the sense that the ultimate causes and reasons of all reality are found in some process of personal experience) is given the name personalism.”[5] While, in a broad sense, we might call many philosophers and schools of philosophy “personalist,” the school of thought at Boston University known as “Boston Personalism” is the most representative of the more narrowly designated personalist tradition and the most closely associated with the Wesleyan tradition.

Given personalism’s emphasis upon the person as ultimate explanatory principle, philosophers in this tradition have understandably concentrated upon explicating just what personhood entails. Brightman, for example, defines person as “a complex unity of consciousness, which identifies itself with its past in memory, determines itself by its freedom, is purposive and value-seeking, private yet communicating, and potentially rational.”[6] Personalism, at least in its Boston form, is also identified with the philosophical tradition of idealism, specifically, a theistic form of idealism. As Brightman explains, “idealistic personalism, or personal idealism, makes the . . . assertion that persons and selves are the only reality, that is, that the whole universe is a system or society of interacting selves and persons – one infinite person who is the creator, and many dependent created persons.”[7] At its core, this project of theistic idealism is a metaphysical enterprise by which one seeks to develop the most coherent and plausible theory possible to account for what is given in conscious experience.[8]

Borden Parker Bowne (1847-1910) initiated Boston Personalism. During the late nineteenth and the early twentieth centuries, Bowne’s personalist influence upon American Christianity was immense. In 1936, Henry Nelson Wieman and Bernard Eugene Meland claimed, “[Bowne’s] thinking has probably reached the minds of more professing Christian people than any other philosophy of religion in the United States.”[9] Bowne’s influence upon scholars like Brightman, Lavely, Peter A. Bertocci, L. Harold DeWolf, Ralph T. Flewelling, Georgia Harkness, Albert C. Knudson, and Walter Muelder demonstrates this far-reaching influence.[10] His influence even extends to well-known religious leaders such as Harry Emerson Fosdick and Martin Luther King, Jr.

That personalism should have such a broad impact suggests that many religious leaders found its worldview intellectually and religiously satisfying. Indeed, Boston Personalists attempted quite consciously to provide what they considered the most adequate philosophical structure for Christian theology.[11] Apparently, many theologians considered this effort successful. Wieman and Meland state flatly, “a survey of prevalent philosophies yields the conviction that, of them all, the philosophy of personalism is most true to the Christian tradition.”[12]

Of those influenced by Boston Personalism, clearly Wesleyans were in the majority. Bowne’s thought was more important for the work of Wesleyan-oriented scholars in America than any other philosopher’s was in the early decades of the twentieth century. He provided Wesleyans, says Thomas A. Langford, with “a generative philosophical foundation for theological construction.”[13] This made Bowne “the seminal source of the most generally influential school of theology produced by American Methodism.”[14] Bowne and those in Boston’s personalist tradition guarded “the intellectual life of religion,” says F. Thomas Trotter, “[and] clung to the Wesleyan insistence on the practice of vital piety.”[15] This insistence on vital piety in the Wesleyan spirit coincided with the Boston Personalists’ private theological inclinations; all were Methodist.[16]

One reason that Bowne-inspired personalism was so influential in America comes down to sheer numbers. Ministerial students from Wesleyan traditions flocked to Boston University and later left the school to serve as college presidents, professors, and church leaders. Partly because of these graduate masses, personalism was the dominant philosophical position in scores of colleges and churches across the land.[17]

For what reasons did personalism come to hold such an attraction for Wesleyans? In the first place, one of Boston Personalism’s core conceptions was congruent with a basic Wesleyan tenet: God is personal, interactive, and relational.[18] “What we especially have in mind, when from the religious view we speak of the personality of God, is the thought of fellowship with him,” says Knudson. “He is a Being who knows us and loves us and whom we can trust.”[19] “On every count,” argues Brightman, “the metaphysics of personality interprets [deity] more adequately than does any competing view.” To illustrate, he notes that

prayer, contemplation, mystical communion, ethical loyalty, are all personal attitudes and experiences, which acquire their highest worth when directed toward a personal object. Any impersonal view of God is either vague or unsuited to serve as the object of prayer and worship . . . . Such experiences as redemption and salvation have to be interpreted most awkwardly and unnaturally on the basis of an impersonal view of God. The eternal ideals of goodness and beauty, truth and holiness, by which we seek to measure our human vales, are given a clear and rational metaphysical status when thought of as the conscious goals of God’s purpose.[20]

It comes as little surprise that Wesleyans would be attracted to such a conception of deity. John Wesley understood God as a relational deity who intimately interacts with the created order.[21] Certainly, the biblical witness amply attests to the God who is personal in this way. Still, other metaphysical schemes that have dominated the theologies of Western Christianity did not represent this conception of God well. Personalism’s alternative metaphysics came as a breath of fresh air to Wesleyans who sought a philosophical basis for their central convictions about relations with a personal God.

A second reason that Wesleyans found Boston Personalism attractive was that it emphasized the freedom of persons,[22] while opposing mechanistic, behavioristic, or theistic theories that denied persons a measure of self-determination. The personalist claim that God created persons with the capacity to act freely corresponds well with the central Wesleyan doctrine that prevenient grace enables humans to act in free response to God. And, once again, it can be said that this notion of human freedom dominates the biblical witness. Wesleyans felt that the philosophies at the heart of theologies espoused by Augustine and Aquinas, and those at the heart of the Reformed theologies of Luther and Calvin, were not conducive to this emphasis upon genuine personal freedom. Boston Personalism offered a philosophical alternative to these traditions – one that was more consistent with the spirit of Wesleyan thought.

Thirdly, Boston Personalism offered Wesleyans a structure to support the Christian demand for personal morality and social responsibility. “Personality implies freedom and moral responsibility,” argued Knudson.[23] Personalists claim that the world is social; it is a world of mutually dependent and interacting moral beings. “In such a world,” says Knudson, “love is necessarily the basic moral law.”[24] For Ralph Flewelling, this implies that society “should be so organized as to present every person the best possible opportunity for self-development, physically, mentally, and spiritually.”[25] Given statements such as these, those who agreed both with Wesley’s rejection of antinomianism and with his conviction that there is no holiness but social holiness, were likely to find personalism inviting. The fact that Georgia Harkness, the first female theologian at an American seminary, and Martin Luther King, Jr., the most well-known American civil rights leader, were personalists suggests that personalism played a vital role in how some American Christians were responding to matters of gender and race.

A final reason Wesleyans were attracted to Boston Personalism was its emphasis upon love. Wesley’s own words illustrate the primacy of love in Wesleyan theology: “Love is the end of all the commandments of God. Love is the end, the sole end, of every dispensation of God, from the beginning of the world to the consummation of all things.”[26] Wesley also reminds us, “It is not written, ‘God is justice,’ or ‘God is truth’ (although he is just and true in all his ways). But it is written, ‘God is love’.”[27] Boston Personalists likewise argued that God’s primary volition is love.[28] Furthermore, the nature of love requires interpersonal relationships, both for deity and creatures. Brightman contended that, “if God is love, his love needs free companions who return his love.”[29] God seeks to increase love in others: “the personal God is one who works – whether with us or in spite of us – to attain the highest values and the most perfect love.”[30] What made personalism so attractive to those who placed love at the center of their theological construction, then, was its personal and interpersonal categories, which lent themselves to lucid analysis of divine and creaturely love relations.

The fact that many Wesleyans were drawn to Boston Personalism in the twentieth century does not mean, however, that it was accepted by everyone as the most adequate philosophy for the Christian faith. Some Wesleyans were suspicious of the idealism at the root of personalism; they preferred, instead, the realism of a commonsense philosopher such as Thomas Reid.[31] Others opposed various novel theological formulations proposed by specific Boston Personalists. For example, many considered Brightman’s notion of a finite God, for whom evil is something of a “given” within the divine self, religiously inadequate. So too, some recognized that traditional Christian doctrines were not easily couched in the theistic idealism of personalism. Even Knudson admits, “the traditional doctrines of the Trinity, Incarnation, and Atonement do not easily fit into the framework of our current personal idealism.” He maintains, however, “this may point to the need of the reformulation of these doctrines rather than to any want of harmony between personalistic philosophy and the essentials of the Christian faith.”[32] Wesleyans varied among themselves regarding the extent to which they thought such doctrines needed reformulation.

II. Boston Personalism and Process Thought

With even this introductory sketch, we can perhaps already recognize some significant commonalities between Boston Personalism and Whiteheadian-Hartshornian process thought. It is understandable, then, that personalist and process philosophers have been generally appreciative of each other’s views since the early decades of the twentieth century. In fact, Brightman called both Whitehead and Hartshorne “personalists,” and he praised Whitehead, saying, “the greatest Anglo-American philosopher of recent times, A.N. Whitehead, came from a realistic tradition, but his doctrines . . . all point to panpsychistic personalism.”[33] Brightman’s published work and personal correspondence reveal that, through his reading of Whitehead and his exchanges with Hartshorne, he slowly drifted away from hard-core personal idealism toward doctrines more characteristic of process thought. However, although Hartshorne considered Brightman to be a process theist and was influenced somewhat by Brightman, Whitehead did not appear to be significantly influenced by Bowne, Brightman, or others in the Boston Personalist tradition.[34]

A number of similarities – both thematic and methodological – between process and personalist philosophies have proved to be of great interest to Wesleyans. Both philosophies are adventures in speculative metaphysics; both are grounded in an analysis of experience, which leads to the testing and construction of metaphysical suppositions in the light of that experience. The resulting philosophy is hypothetical; it is always subject to reassessment and revision.[35] Lavely suggests that “the affinities between and the common motifs of personalism and panpsychism are such that both positions have more at stake in reinforcing each other than in repudiating each other. . . . Jointly panpsychism and personalism may be the . . . best hope of metaphysics.”[36]

The epistemological point of departure for both Whiteheadian process thought and Boston Personalism is self-experience. Bowne contends that self-conscious and active intelligence is the presupposition for knowledge of ourselves, others, the world, and God.[37] “What we immediately experience is the starting-point of all our thought and action,” says Brightman, “and the present fact at all times is our own self.”[38] Personalists claim that what we find in our personal relationships provides the basis to construe everything in terms of personality. Here, however, process thought differs from personalism as to the types of self-experience that inform epistemology. Boston Personalists limit their notion of self-experience to experience that is conscious, sensory, and value-based. Process philosophers, in the tradition of Whitehead and Hartshorne, also acknowledge the epistemological validity of unconscious and nonsensory experience. This broader approach to experience is seemingly more suitable to Wesleyan concerns about how God relates to creation and, specifically, how God guides and assures us through what Wesley calls the “spiritual senses.”

Especially appealing to Wesleyans is another current running through both personalist and process philosophies – namely, the relational metaphysics of each. For process thought, all actual existence involves, in Whitehead’s words, “an essential interconnectedness of things.”[39] Bowne, sounding like a relational metaphysician, also argues, “the notion of interaction implies that a thing is [influenced] by others, and hence that it cannot be all that it is apart from all others. . . . Its existence is involved in its relations.”[40] At least later in his life, Brightman spoke of interconnectedness when claiming that personalism posits “an interacting and intercommunicating universe,” which means that the basis for this philosophy “is essentially interpersonal, and therefore social.”[41] However, as contemporary personalist Rufus Burrow, Jr., admits, “it must be conceded that neither Bowne nor Brightman worked out the fuller implications of a relational metaphysics.”[42] An illustration of this failure to work out a relational metaphysics is Brightman’s denial of literal participation of selves in one another; he concludes that “monads have no windows through which existences or concrete realities may interact. Only purposes may interact.”[43] Whitehead and process metaphysicians contend that monads do have “windows,” whereby each actuality is internally related to others who have preceded them.[44] The uniquely process way of conceiving real internal relations shares strong affinities with the Wesleyan emphasis on the prevenience of grace and the transforming presence of God within all creation.

Continuing in the philosophical tradition of Gottfried Leibniz, personalism affirms what Brightman calls “quantitative pluralism” and “qualitative monism.” Quantitative pluralism refers to the claim that human persons are to be distinguished from each other and from the divine person. Qualitative monism refers to the claim that only persons are truly real, with God and conscious non-divine individuals sharing the common characteristic “personhood.”[45] Process thought also affirms the essence of Brightman’s understanding of pluralism and monism, although its qualitative monism extends to all actual existents. Process philosophy’s quantitative pluralism is more thoroughgoing, because each actuality essentially enjoys a moment in its becoming that is causa sui. Or, as Whitehead puts it, “every actual entity . . . is something individual for its own sake; and thereby transcends the rest of actuality.”[46] Furthermore, Hartshorne’s qualitative monism is more thoroughgoing than Boston Personalism’s, because, for Hartshorne, even God embodies the metaphysical characteristics conditioning all persons. Brightman’s God remains an exception to these metaphysical principles.

I have already noted that the emphasis on God as personal, which resides at the core of Boston Personalism, is attractive to Wesleyans. Although the similarities between Whitehead and Hartshorne are so great that both are generally regarded as the primary inspirations for process theology, Hartshorne’s thought is decidedly more congruent with Boston Personalism at this point; his doctrine of God more easily generates a conception of God as personal. In the section of The Divine Relativity that Hartshorne entitles “Divine Personality,” he argues that God should be conceived “as a supreme person.”[47] As person, God enjoys successive “states” of existence analogous with the states of existence enjoyed by other personally ordered societies of occasions of experience.[48] Whitehead’s God, however, does not lend itself to personalist categories, because deity subsists in a single, ever-becoming state.[49]

Process theism also shares important similarities to personalism with regard to theodicy. A glimpse at how prominent scholars in these traditions address the problem of evil reveals that, in general, both personalism and process thought seek to reconceptualize divine power to account for divine love. Sounding like Whitehead, although writing nearly twenty years earlier, Bowne rejects classical theology’s construal of divine power: “A great deal of our theology was written when men believed in the divine right and irresponsibility of kings, and this conception also crept into and corrupted theological thinking, so that God was conceived less as a truly moral being than as a magnified and irresponsible despot.”[50] Wesley reconceived divine power similarly, although he hammered this out in the context of broader soteriological concerns, especially related to the question of predestination.

Chief among notable answers to the problem of evil given by Boston Personalists is the relatively controversial one offered by Brightman. The fact of evil, he claims, “indicates that the Supreme Self is achieving value in the temporal order under difficulties.”[51] The impetus of these difficulties is found in the improper use of human freedom and in God’s own self-imposed conditions of reason and goodness, but these impetuses do not account entirely for the presence of evil. A crucial aspect of what Brightman considers an adequate theodicy developed through his reflection upon the divine nature. He speculates that, residing within Godself, is a measure of recalcitrance and perversity he calls “the given.” This resistant and retarding factor “constitutes a real problem to divine power and explains the ‘evil’ features of the natural world.”[52] Although neither created nor condoned by God, this nonrational given inevitably conditions the divine experience internally making it impossible for God to overcome all evil.

In contrast to Brightman’s controversial solution, Boston Personalists have generally simply affirmed divine self-limitation as a way to preserve perfect divine love in the face of genuine evil. In providing power for freedom to creatures, they say, God became self-limited; most prefer the notion of divine self-limitation, then, to Brightman’s notion of a finite God. Although many process theists also reject the language of divine finitude, they do not embrace the personalist notion of divine self-limitation. Process theology’s criticism of a self-limited God is that this deity, who incessantly enjoys the capacity to become un-self-limited, ought to overcome self-imposed limitations periodically in the name of love.[53] Process theologian David Ray Griffin, for example, rejects Brightman’s notion of a God internally burdened with a nonrational given, and calls this deity an imperfect Being unworthy of worship.[54] Unlike Brightman’s God, whose internal conflict prevents unqualified expressions of love, the process deity Griffin proposes expresses perfect love everlastingly, albeit through the metaphysical conditions that God and all other actualities embody.

Personalism and process thought both emphasize the immanence of God. Speaking like a naturalistic theist in the process tradition, Bowne begins his book, The Immanence of God, with these words: “The undivineness of the natural and the unnaturalness of the divine is the great heresy of popular thought.”[55] However, Boston Personalists speculate that God’s immanent relation with the world, in contrast to the immanent relations of process God, is volitional rather than necessary. Personalism “insists on God’s free relation to the world,” says Knudson.[56] Or, as Bowne says more subtly, God “is the most deeply obligated being in the universe. And, having started a race under human conditions, he is bound to treat it in accordance with those conditions. God is bound to be the great Burden-bearer of our world because of his relations to men.”[57] Process thought, in contrast, denies that God voluntarily relates with nondivine creatures, or, as Whitehead says, “the relationships of God to the World should lie beyond the accidents of will.” Instead, these relationships should be founded “upon the necessities of the nature of God and the nature of the World.”[58] This implies that some realm of finite actualities or another has always existed;[59] God does not omnipotently dispose “a wholly derivative world” ex nihilo.[60]

Ultimately, we can trace the greatest differences between process and personalist thought to the philosophical traditions upon which they draw; process thought draws heavily from realist traditions and Boston Personalism draws heavily from idealist traditions. These different starting points lead each to regard the non-personal entities of nature quite differently. For Bowne and other theistic idealists of the Boston Personalist tradition, unconscious entities, e.g., rocks, plants, and cells, have no degree of independent reality. One reason that non-personal entities possess no independence whatsoever is that, for these personalists, individual “experience” is synonymous with “consciousness.” Personalists account for the presence of the non-personal world by claiming that it depends entirely upon, and acts as an element of, the divine mind.[61] Brightman states this idealist position succinctly:

Personalism may be taken to be that philosophical system which holds that the universe is a society of selves, unified by the will and immanent causality of a Supreme Self, and which, therefore, defines matter and the whole system of physical nature in terms of the active, conscious will of that Supreme Self, while it regards human selves (and whatever other selves there may be) as enjoying an existence of their own, dependent, it is true, upon the will of the Supreme Self, yet no part of it.[62]

Process theism, arising out of realist philosophies, postulates that the unconscious actualities of the natural world do have a degree of independence, and even autonomy, vis-à-vis God. Without this postulation, say process philosophers, persons have no good reason to claim that unconscious entities even exist, let alone possess intrinsic value. The postulation that non-personal and unconscious actualities have a measure of independent reality does not lead process thought to espouse mindless materialism, however. Instead, process thought puts mind in matter; experience occurs at all levels of existence. This avowal of panpsychism or, more happily, panexperientialism[63] offers a way to affirm the reality of mentality generating purpose, freedom, and value; it also offers a way to affirm the commonsense notion that a real world of unconscious natural actualities exists with a measure of autonomy. One way to characterize process panexperientialism, then, would be to claim this doctrine considers “personhood” to extend from the most complex to the least complex of all entities in the world. In this postulation, personhood need entail neither consciousness nor the degree of complexity required to sustain enduring individuals. At the risk of oversimplification, one might say that if, as Boston Personalists contend, idealism is the antithesis of materialism, panexperientialism is the synthesis.

The implications of panexperientialism for process thought are significant, and the extent to which these implications result in significant differences between process theology and the idealism of Boston Personalism is far-reaching. I mention three briefly. First, although Boston Personalists sometimes argued for a responsible environmental ethic, their idealist presuppositions made it difficult to formulate ethical schemes that regard non-human individuals and the elemental actualities of nature as intrinsically valuable.[64] Only persons are real, which implies that only persons can be intrinsically valuable. Second, Boston Personalism, because of its adherence to idealist premises, struggles to provide a satisfying solution to the mind-body problem; it provides no adequate theory for how a person (human self or mind) could interact naturally with a person’s bodily members (matter). Third, because of its idealism, Boston Personalism aligned itself with a position in the science and religion dialogue that many today find unsatisfactory.[65] Knudson expresses this position when he argues that, “If both scientists and theologians had understood that science is by its very nature confined to the phenomenal realm and that religion by its nature is concerned simply with the ultimate power and purpose that lie back of the phenomena, most of the conflicts between them in the past would have been avoided.”[66] “It is [best],” he concludes, “to adopt Bowne’s distinction between phenomenal and ontological reality, and then to say that science is concerned with the former and religion with the latter.”[67] Process thought rejects the distinction between phenomenal and ontological reality – and, therefore rejects a hard and fast distinction between science and religion – partly because of its doctrine of panexperientialism.

Although personalism still shapes Wesleyans and personalism is by no means a dead philosophical school,[68] the last half of the twentieth century has witnessed a stronger Wesleyan attraction to process thought. I have addressed reasons for this attraction in this essay; a fuller exposure of such reasons is found in the essays of Thy Name and Thy Nature is Love: Wesleyan and Process Theologies in Dialogue. My present task, however, has involved proposing rationale for why Boston Personalism has been attractive to Wesleyans and for why this attraction naturally carries over to a contemporary process thought.

For more from the author Thomas Jay Oord, see his website https://thomasjayoord.com or the Center for Open and Relational Theology https://c4ort.com

  1. This essay is dedicated to the memory of the many scholars within the Wesleyan/Holiness tradition who were strongly influenced by Boston Personalism. In many ways, I consider myself an heir to their legacy.

  2. Bryan P Stone and Thomas Jay Oord, eds., Thy Name and Thy Nature is Love: Wesleyan and Process Theologies in Dialogue (Nashville: Kingswood, 2001). Special thanks are due to Bryan Stone, who not only read and made various suggestions regarding this essay, but who also suggested a few sentences here and there. I believe the essay is much stronger because of his help.

  3. See the introduction of Thy Name and Thy Nature is Love for an account of Bryan Stone’s research on this matter.

  4. . John H. Lavely, “Personalism,” in Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Paul Edwards (New York: Collier-Macmillan, 1967, 1972), 5:107.

  5. . Edgar Sheffield Brightman, An Introduction to Philosophy, 3rd ed., rev. Robert N. Beck (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1963), 330.

  6. . Edgar Sheffield Brightman, “Personalism,” in A History of Philosophical Systems, ed. Vergilius Ferm (New York: The Philosophical Library, 1950), 341.

  7. . Brightman, An Introduction to Philosophy, 330.

  8. . Ibid., 331.

  9. . Henry Nelson Wieman and Bernard Eugene Meland, American Philosophies of Religion (Chicago: Willett, Clark, and Company, 1936), 134.

  10. . Others strongly influenced either directly or indirectly by Bowne’s brand of personalism include John W. E. Bowen, Olin A. Curtis, Paul Deats, Jr., Nels F.S. Ferre, Carroll D. Hildebrand, Francis J. McConnell, Richard M. Millard, Wilbur Mullen, Harris F. Rall, Edward T. Ramsdell, Carol Sue Robb, J. Deotis Roberts, S. Paul Schilling, William H. Werkmeister, H. Orton Wiley, and J. Philip Wogaman.

  11. . In the words of Albert C. Knudson, Boston Personalism “seeks to provide religion with a philosophical underpinning, to give it a cosmic framework in which it will fit, to create for it an intellectual atmosphere in which it will thrive” (The Philosophy of Personalism: A Study in the Metaphysics of Religion [New York: Abingdon, 1927], 328).

  12. . Wieman and Meland, American Philosophies of Religion, 133.

  13. . Thomas A. Langford, Wesleyan Theology: A Sourcebook (Durham, NC: Labyrinth, 1984), 149.

  14. . Thomas A. Langford, Practical Divinity: Theology in the Wesleyan Tradition (Nashville: Abingdon, 1983), 175.

  15. . F. Thomas Trotter, “Boston Personalism’s Contributions to Faith and Learning,” in The Boston Personalist Tradition in Philosophy, Social Ethics, and Theology, eds. Paul Deats and Carol Robb (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1986), 21.

  16. . Paul Deats, “Introduction to Boston Personalism,” in The Boston Personalist Tradition in Philosophy, Social Ethics, and Theology, 13.

  17. . Ibid.

  18. . This was presented in a more coherent way by Brightman and his students. Bowne argued for a personal, interactive, and/or relational God, but rejected divine mutability and temporality. For a discussion of the problems Bowne faced because of this rejection, see Jose Franquiz Ventura, Borden Parker Bowne’s Treatment of the Problem of Change and Identity (Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico: University of Puerto Rico, 1942).

  19. . Albert C. Knudson, The Doctrine of God (New York: Abingdon, 1930), 298.

  20. . Edgar S. Brightman, “Personality,” in Personalism in Theology: A Symposium in Honor of Albert Cornelius Knudson, ed. Edgar S. Brightman (Boston: Boston University Press, 1943), 62-63.

  21. . See Randy L. Maddox’s discussion of Wesley’s relational, interactive God in Responsible Grace: John Wesley’s Practical Theology (Nashville: Kingswood, 1994), ch. 2.

  22. . Knudson reports that “personalism . . . holds to the libertarian as against the deterministic view of [humans]” (The Philosophy of Personalism, 74).

  23. . Ibid., 83.

  24. . Albert C. Knudson, Principles of Christian Ethics (New York: Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1943), 118.

  25. . Ralph T. Flewelling, “Personalism,” in Twentieth Century Philosophy: Living Schools of Thought, ed. Dagobert D. Runes (New York: Philosophical Library, 1943), 325.

  26. . Sermon 36, “The Law Established through Faith, II, Works, 2:39.

  27. . Predestination Calmly Considered, §43, John Wesley, 445.

  28. . Borden Parker Bowne, Studies in Christianity (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1909), 94.

  29. . Edgar S. Brightman, Is God Personal? (New York: Association Press, 1932), 64.

  30. . Ibid., 46-47.

  31. . James E. Hamilton makes this claim in “Epistemology and Theology in American Methodism,” Wesleyan Theological Journal 10 (1975).

  32. . Knudson, The Philosophy of Personalism, 80.

  33. . Brightman, “Personalism,” 344.

  34. . The key word in this sentence is “significantly.” On this and related subjects, see Randall E. Auxier, “God, Process, and Persons: Charles Hartshorne and Personalism,” Process Studies 27/3-4 (Fall-Winter 1998): 175-199.

  35. . Brightman, “Personalism,” 345-47.

  36. . John Lavely, “Personalism Supports the Dignity of Nature,” The Personalist Forum 2:1 (Spring 1986), 37.

  37. . Borden Parker Bowne, Personalism (Norwood, MA: Plimpton, 1908, 1936), 217.

  38. . Edgar S. Brightman, quoted by Wieman and Meland in American Philosophies of Religion, 140.

  39. . Alfred North Whitehead, Adventures of Ideas (New York: Free Press, 1968; New York: Macmillan, 1933), 227.

  40. . Borden Parker Bowne, Theism (New York: American Book Co., 1902), 57.

  41. . Brightman, “Personalism,” 347, 350.

  42. . Rufus Burrow, Jr., Personalism: A Critical Introduction (St. Louis, Mo.: Chalice, 1999), 232.

  43. . Brightman, Letter of May 13, 1939. Quoted in Auxier, “God, Process, and Persons,” 181.

  44. . Later in his life, and subsequent to reflection upon the thought of Hartshorne and Whitehead, Brightman attempted to correct his deficient hypothesis regarding internal relations. See Auxier’s article regarding Hartshorne’s influence upon Brightman pertaining to this matter (“God, Process, and Persons,” 175-199).

  45. Edgar S. Brightman, “Personalistic Metaphysics of the Self: Its Distinctive Features” in Studies in Personalism: Selected Writings of Edgar Sheffield Brightman, ed. Warren E. Steinkraus and Robert N. Beck (Utica, N.Y.: Meridian, 1984), 18.

  46. Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology, corrected edition, ed. David Ray Griffin and Donald W. Sherburne (New York: Free Press, 1978; orig. ed., 1929), 88.

  47. . Charles Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity: A Social Conception of God (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1948), 142. See also Hartshorne, “God, as personal” in Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Virgilius Ferm, (New York: Philosophical Library, 1945), 302-303.

  48. . Charles Hartshorne, “Whitehead’s Idea of God,” in The Philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead, ed. Paul Arthur Schilpp (New York: Tudor, 1951), 530.

  49. . Whitehead’s doctrine of God does not easily lend itself to speaking of God as personal, because he conceived God to be a single, ever-concrescing, actual entity. Although interaction with others is part of what it means to be personal, it is difficult to imagine how a single actual entity, which everlastingly becomes, can affect other actualities. That is, if interaction requires an individual to oscillate between being and becoming, or object and subject, as Whitehead contends, it is unclear how God could interact personally. For a critique of Whitehead on this point, and for an alternative doctrine of God similar to Hartshorne’s, see the classic work on the subject: John B. Cobb Jr., A Christian Natural Theology: Based on the Thought of Alfred North Whitehead (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1965).

  50. . Borden Parker Bowne, Studies in Christianity, 151.

  51. . Brightman, quoted by Wieman and Meland in American Philosophies of Religion, 142.

  52. . Ibid.

  53. . Among pertinent material criticizing divine self-limitation from a process theological perspective, see Tyron L. Inbody, The Transforming God: An Interpretation of Suffering and Evil (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 148-50.

  54. . David Ray Griffin, God, Power, and Evil: A Process Theodicy (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1976), 246.

  55. . Bowne, The Immanence of God (New York: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1905), preface.

  56. . Knudson, The Philosophy of Personalism, 329.

  57. . Bowne, Studies in Christianity, 144.

  58. . Whitehead, Adventures of Ideas, 215.

  59. . This does not deny, in principle, the theory that our particular universe may have begun with a Big Bang, only that such an event, if it occurred, was not the beginning of finite existence.

  60. . Whitehead, Adventures of Ideas, 166. For an examination of the relevance of God’s voluntary or necessary relations with the world, see Thomas Jay Oord, Matching Theology and Piety: An Evangelical Process Theology of Love (Ph.D. Dissertation, Claremont Graduate University), chs. 6-7; and Mark Lloyd Taylor, God is Love: A Study in the Theology of Karl Rahner (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986), ch. 11.

  61. . Borden Parker Bowne, Kant and Spencer (Port Washington, N.Y.: Kennikat, 1967), 133ff.

  62. . Brightman, quoted by Wieman and Meland in American Philosophies of Religion, 139.

  63. . David Ray Griffin suggests that “panexperientialism” better depicts what is entailed in process philosophy’s version of panpsychism (“Some Whiteheadian Comments,” in Mind in Nature: Essays on the Interface of Science and Philosophy, eds. John B. Cobb, Jr., and David Ray Griffin (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1977).

  64. . Rufus Burrow, Jr., wrestles with this criticism in Personalism, 235-240.

  65. . For a brief explanation and criticism of the kind of position Boston Personalists take regarding the relationship between religion and science, see Ian Barbour, Religion in an Age of Science (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1990), 10-17.

  66. . Knudson, Philosophy of Personalism, 253.

  67. . Ibid., 330.

  68. . Contemporary personalists include Douglas R. Anderson, Randall E. Auxier, Thomas Buford, Rufus Burrow, Jr., Charles Conti, Mark Y. A. Davies, Frederick Ferre, Erazim Kohak, James McLachlan, and Josef Seifert.

Attaining Perfection: Love for God and Neighbor

“Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly father is perfect” (Mt 5:48).

This sentence may be the most vexing in all of scripture. Yet many Christians – especially those in the Wesleyan tradition – consider Jesus’ words crucial for spiritual formation. John Wesley formed his theology of Christian perfection around them. Ever since, folks even as famous as Reinhold Niebuhr have chided Wesleyans for being fanatical about perfection.[1]

The possibility of fulfilling Jesus’ command seems unrealistic to many people. When I talk to audiences about perfection, I often ask, “Would every perfect person raise a hand?” After an awkward moment or two, a jokester typically shoots his arm upward, hoping to get a laugh from the crowd.

The command Jesus gives to be perfect parallels the Old and New Testament command to be holy. Wesley highlighted this parallel in his preaching ministry. In his New Testament writings, Peter draws from Leviticus when he talks about imitating God’s holiness. The passage reads, “I am the Lord your God; sanctify yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am holy” (Lev. 11:44; 1 Pt. 1:16). For many people, perfection and holiness are synonymous.

Wesleyans aren’t the only Christians concerned with perfection, of course. A rich Roman Catholic tradition offers resources for thinking about the issue. And Christians in the Orthodox tradition are quite interested in what it means to be perfect. Other Christian traditions are less helpful when it comes to understanding perfection.

John Calvin’s Deceptive View of Perfection

Some in the Christian tradition believe we can call ourselves perfect when in fact we are not.  God sees us as perfect, they say, because God looks at us through the lens of Jesus. In actuality, however, we remain imperfect.

Classically trained theologians like to use the technical word “impute” to talk about this view. John Calvin's Institutes illustrate what theologians mean when they speak of imputation and perfection:

“A man is righteous not in himself, but because the righteousness of Christ is communicated to him by imputation…”

“We are accounted righteous only because [Christ’s] obedience is accepted for us as if it were our own…”

“[If] we may appear before the face of God to salvation, it is necessary for us to be perfumed with [Christ’s] fragrance, and to have all our deformities concealed and absorbed in his perfection.”[2]

Calvin’s claim that we must be “perfumed with Christ’s fragrance” helps us understand the problem with imputation. He rightfully thinks that as sinners, we stink!  In fact, the stench of our sin can be nauseating. 

His view of imputation doesn’t free us of our stench. Instead, Christ’s strong and sweet aroma covers over – masks – our persistent odor.  Christ’s fragrance overpowers God’s nostrils so that God fails to realize that we reek.

Instead of believing that God must be deceived, others have interpreted Jesus’ command to be perfect as merely him setting a goal. We should strive for perfection, but we also know we cannot attain it. God sets an unreachable bar to motivate us.

One advocate of this paradox put it this way: “Our goal is to think and act the same way Jesus lived (perfectly), but we will be sinners until our last breath. The standard is perfection, but we will always be profoundly flawed.”[3]

This explanation of Jesus’ call to be perfect is also unsatisfying. When I hear it, I picture greyhounds chasing the unattainable plastic rabbit around a racetrack.

This way of thinking about perfection presents Jesus as inherently unloving. What kind of person would demand something that he knows we cannot ever do – especially knowing that failing to do the impossible results in sickness, destruction and death? The God who calls us to be perfect, all the while knowing we never can, is a tyrant. This explanation of the call to be perfect portrays Jesus as cruel and conniving.

Aristotle and Perfection

A more helpful explanation of the call to be perfect comes from the great mind of Aristotle. He believed something could be perfect if it acted in accord with its purpose. A perfect object is not without some flaws. But it can be perfect if used in the manner for which it was created.

My undergraduate professor of philosophy and later colleague, Ed Crawford, prefers Aristotle when pondering perfection. Aristotle argues that perfection involves being in the process of moving from potential to actual.  The perfect acorn naturally moves toward being an oak tree, because acorns were designed to become oak trees.

Humans also move naturally from potential to actual. When they are moving in the correct direction, they become more like what they were designed to be: Christ-like. Perfection, then, entails becoming conformed to the image of Jesus (Rm. 8:29).

This way of understanding perfection is helpful. But it leaves a huge question unanswered: What does it mean to be Christ-like?

Christlikeness?

Does Christ-likeness mean speaking Aramaic? Are we becoming perfect like Jesus when we wear robes, tunics, and sandals? Is the essence of perfection having twelve disciples, eating a diet mainly of fish and bread, and lecturing religious authorities?

In our attempt to figure out what it means to be perfect, we may forget that Jesus presents God as the example of what our perfection ought to be. Jesus tells his listeners to be perfect as their heavenly Father is perfect.

Amazingly, a central aspect of spiritual formation is becoming like God!

Before we begin worrying about the omnipotence problems of Bruce Almighty or the omniscience problems inherent in knowing every past sin of our kids, spouses, or parents, we should look at the context of Jesus’ command to be perfect.

Jesus and Perfection

The call comes at the conclusion of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Read Jesus’ words preceding it:

You have heard it said, ‘You should love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children to your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and good, and sends rains on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect (Mt. 5:43-48).

The context of Jesus’ command suggests that love – not perfect power or knowledge – is what it means to be perfect as God is perfect.  God loves everyone.  God loves even those who do not return love. We ought to imitate God in this. We ought to love our enemies, for even God loves those who declare themselves enemies of God.

Luke’s memory of the sermon Jesus preached is different from Matthew’s memory.  While Matthew remembers Jesus concluding by saying “be perfect,” Luke remember Jesus concluding with “be compassionate” (Lk. 6:36). This serves as an important clue for deciphering what it means to be perfect.

How is God Perfect?

To “be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect” means to be like God. Too many Christians have thought God to be an impersonal force field. Believing God is personal and living helps us imagine what we should do to fulfill Jesus’ command to be perfect.

In my opinion, the Wesleyan tradition is best for helping us make sense of what it means to be perfect. John Wesley understood perfection primarily in terms of love.[4] The Wesleyan tradition affirms the general biblical view that God is loving, relational, and living.        

Envisioning God as relational and living may seem so obvious and hardly worth mentioning.  But it makes a whale of difference for understanding how we might be perfect like God is perfect!

Unfortunately, Aristotle’s view that God is the Unmoved Mover has influenced many in the Christian tradition. Thomas Aquinas, for instance, said God was in all ways unchanging and nonrelated to creation as pure act (actus purus) without potentiality.[5] Augustine regarded God as in all ways “fixed and changeless.”[6] Thinking of God as an Unmoved Mover does not mesh with the biblical idea that God is relational and living.

The reason these theologians envisioned God as in all ways unchanging relates directly to the issue of perfection. Their logic is that a perfect being would not and, in fact, cannot change. Any change in a perfect being could only be from perfection to imperfection. Perfection requires static immutability.

One of the most important 20th century Evangelical theologians, Carl F. H. Henry, agrees with Aquinas and Augustine on this issue. “God is perfect,” he says, “and, if imperfect, can only change for the worse.”[7]A perfect God apparently cannot change in any sense, and therefore God cannot be relational or living.

Christian theologians have argued that God is in all ways unchanging despite numerous biblical passages suggesting otherwise. More than forty times in the Old Testament, for instance, biblical authors say God repent – changes his mind.[8] Many, many biblical accounts portray God as being affected by what creatures do – God responds to creatures by expressing sadness, joy, frustration, pleasure, anger, forgiveness, redemption, comfort, helpfulness, etc.

Charles Hartshorne’s Doubly Perfect God

We have a problem. We know that creatures are inherently changing beings. That fact is apparently fixed. So how can those who inevitably change imitate a God who never changes?

If being perfect means never changing (because God never changes), we cannot obey Jesus’ command to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect.

The best answer to this conceptual problem comes from an unlikely source: philosopher Charles Hartshorne. Unfortunately, Hartshorne’s ideas are not well known.  Those few Christians who have heard about him typically know only his notorious view of divine omnipotence.

Hartshorne is the most important thinker for helping us understand God’s perfection. And getting a good idea of God’s perfection is crucial if we are to be perfect as God is perfect.

The key to Hartshorne’s view of divine perfection is his distinction between God’s eternal nature as unchangingly perfect and God’s living experience as changingly perfect. Notice: God is doubly perfect. But one aspect of perfection is unchanging and the other changes.

Suppose God is “that individual being than which no other individual being could conceivably be greater,” says Hartshorne, “but which itself, in another ‘state,’ could become greater.”[9]

If God is a living person with moment-by-moment experiences, God’s perfect experience in one moment could be surpassed by God’s perfect experience in the next. “The numerically distinct God-tomorrow will also be perfect,” says Hartshorne, “though He will exhibit perfection in an enriched state of actuality.”[10]

We know that we cannot imitate God’s eternal unchanging nature. Perfection, in this sense, is unattainable. This is one way God transcends creatures.

But we can imitate God’s living and changing experience. As living creatures, we share with God the capacity for moment-by-moment experience. This may be part of what it means to be made in the image of God (Gen. 1:27)

In sum, God’s eternal nature is unchangingly perfect. We do not have an unchanging and eternal nature. But God’s living experience is changingly perfect. As changing beings ourselves, we might be able to imitate God in this respect.

Moment-by-Moment Perfection

We need one final conceptual element to make sense of what it means to follow Jesus command to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect. That final piece comes in thinking about what it means to have a moment-by-moment, give-and-receive relationship of love.

Biblical writers repeatedly use relationship analogies to talk about God’s love for us. God is a loving Father, husband, hen, friend, parent, king, and among others. The Bible portrays God as personal, relational, and living. God loves us perfectly.

To love is to act intentionally, in response to God and others, to promote overall well-being. God loves all of us, all the time. We can love too. But we love, because God first loves us.[11]

The God who gives and receives love in relationship is one whose experiential life persists moment by moment.  God loves us in one moment. We may or may not love in return. God receives our response and loves us in the next moment. We may or may not love in return. God receives our response again and loves us in the next moment. On it goes. This is part of what relational theology suggests constitutes an ongoing love relationship.

We can be perfect in any particular moment, if we love in that moment. If we respond appropriately to God’s empowering and inspiring call to love, we can act perfectly in that instant. We can be like God – in that moment.

We Are Perfect In Each Moment as We Love

John Wesley understood spiritual formation primarily as expressing love in each moment. “We are every moment pleasing or displeasing to God,” he wrote, “according to our works; according to the whole of our present inward tempers and outward behavior.”[12]

If we love as God calls us to love, we are perfect.  More precisely: if in any particular moment, we respond to God by loving as God asks us to love, we are perfect in that moment as God is perfect in every moment.

Of course, we cannot claim to do this on our own. In fact, God acts first to empower, inspire, and call us to love. Wesleyans call this “prevenient grace.” We are, to use the language of Friedrich Schleiermacher, “utterly dependent” upon God.[13]

This means that perfection is not something we conjure up on our own. Instead, we are perfect when we respond appropriately to God in any particular instant.  But it does mean that we can be perfect now.  We don’t have to wait until heaven.

In his letter to the Ephesians, the apostle Paul turns to the idea that Christians are to act like God. Paul says, “Be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love as Christ has loved us…” (Ephesians 5:1)

We can love in any moment when we respond appropriately in that moment to God’s call to love. And as we respond well repeatedly, we develop the virtuous characters. We act as saints. God uses our moment-by-moment responses of love to form us into a people – both as individuals and as a Church – who live lives of love.

For more from the author Thomas Jay Oord, see his website https://thomasjayoord.com or the Center for Open and Relational Theology https://c4ort.com

  1. See The Nature and Destiny of Man: Human Destiny, vol. 2 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1943).

  2. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, John Allen, trans. (Grand Rapids, Mich. Eerdmans, 1949), all quotes from book III, ch. 11, # 23.

  3. See http://brianmccormack.wordpress.com/2007/01/09/michael-jordan-the-pursuit-of-the-unattainable. Accessed 12/15/09

  4. For an argument that love is the core notion of holiness, see Thomas Jay Oord and Michael Lodahl, Relational Holiness: Responding to the Call of Love (Kansas City, Mo.: Beacon Hill, 2005).

  5. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I, Q. 3, arts. 2 & 6.

  6. Augustine, De Musica, vol. 6, xiv, 48.

  7. Carl F. H. Henry, God, Revelation, and Authority: The God who Stands and Stays, Part One, vol. 5 (Waco: Word, 1982), 304.

  8. For an analysis of the idea that God repents and suffers, see Terence E. Fretheim, The Suffering of God: An Old Testament Perspective (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984).

  9. Charles Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity: A Social Conception of God (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1948), 20.

  10. Charles Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, (LaSalle, Ill.: Open Court, 1962), 66.

  11. For in-depth analysis of love and its meaning, see Thomas Jay Oord, Defining Love: A Philosophical, Scientific, and Theological Engagement (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Brazos, 2010) and The Nature of Love: A Theology (St. Louis, Mo.: Chalice, 2010).

  12. Methodist Conference Minutes, 1744-98 (London: John Mason, 1862), I, 95-96.

  13. Friedrich Schleiermacher, The Christian Faith (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1989 [2nd Ed., 1830]).

 

An Open Theology Doctrine of Creation and Solution to the Problem of Evil

Open theology pursues the logic of love.

Open theology is probably better known for affirming an open future without actual content and thus not yet known by God. It is probably better known for claiming that God relates to and thus in some sense depends upon creatures. Open theology is better known for affirming creaturely freedom and the notion that in some sense God takes risks. But less well known is that most Open theists believe all of these affirmations are secondary to the theo-logic of love.

Atop the list of Open theology affirmations is this simple three-word phrase: God is love. Open theists emphasize the first and second commandments to love God and to love others as ourselves. God loved the world so much that God gave Jesus so that the world might find salvation. When Jesus’ disciples express love, all people come to find out who Jesus’ disciples really are. From beginning to end, love is the central theme of Scripture, the core ethic for humans, and God’s reigning attribute.

The logic of love insists that no Christian doctrine or practice contradict love. Open theists argue that some conventional theological beliefs, however, contradict what we know about love from the Bible and personal experience. The problem with the conventional concept that God is an unchanging and unmoved mover, say Open theists, is this concept contradicts the giving and receiving relationality (moving and being moved) inherent in love. The problem with conceiving of God as one who eternally knows the future as actual is this concept means the future is already settled; creatures cannot freely respond to God’s call to love in a future eternally settled. The problem with conceiving of divine power in such a way as to regard God as controlling all things is that God must be regarded a source and cause of evil. The list of conventional theological beliefs that undermine love goes on.

Typical Open theists admit, however, that they have difficulty providing a theoretical answer to the problem of evil.[1] They know that Open theism does a better job with the problem than conventional theism. Open theists blame free or indeterminate creatures for causing genuine evil. But most admit that they cannot fully resolve why a loving and almighty God does not prevent genuine evils.[2]

Open theists are wary of theoretical solutions to the problem of evil some process theists propose.[3] While they admire the process notion that God always acts persuasively, the typical Open theist worries that process theology either makes God overly dependent upon creation or is overly constrained by external conditions such that God is not the most powerful being plausibly conceived.[4] Most Open theists also believe, rightly or wrongly, that process formulations of divine power conflict with biblical miracle accounts, the resurrection of Jesus, and eschatology.[5]

Open theists are careful about how they want to conceive the origination of our universe. They are adamant that God is the original and ongoing Creator. But Open theists are not of one accord about exactly what occurred in the first moments of our universe. Some have affirmed the classical doctrine of creation out of nothing.[6] Others have questioned the biblical basis for that doctrine and are open to creation theories that do not require creation ex nihilo.[7] Greg Boyd has suggested that at the beginning of our universe, God confronted rebellious agents with power of their own to combat God’s good plans. These agents, speculates Boyd, were demonic.[8] Michael Lodahl has fruitfully explored various implications for it means to accept or reject creation ex nihilo.[9]

In this essay, I both offer an Open theology doctrine of original creation and propose that this doctrine coheres with notions of divine love, power, and relatedness that solve the theoretical aspect of the problem evil. To address main points of the creation doctrine, I briefly explore major themes in the award-winning work of Nancey Murphy and George Ellis, On the Moral Nature of the Universe. I endorse the basic scientific aspects Murphy and Ellis identify, and I find their insistence upon creaturely freedom and/or indeterminacy helpful. I reject, however, the particular formulation of kenosis that they and John Polkinghorne accept. I explore the difficulty the doctrine of creation out of absolutely nothing creates for solving the problem of evil, and I examine an alternative creation doctrine that process theologians David Ray Griffin and Catherine Keller offer.[10] The cyclic universe cosmology model developed by physicists Neil Turok and Paul Steinhardt provides a scientific basis for this alternative creation theory. I conclude with my theory of divine self-limitation – what I call “essential kenosis”— that solves the theoretical aspect of the problem of evil and affirms God’s noncoercive creative activity at the beginning (and throughout the history) of our universe.[11]

A Universe Finely Tuned

On the Moral Nature of the Universe: Theology, Cosmology, and Ethics is one of the best contemporary attempts to address issues in origins, scientific cosmology, divine action, and love. Ellis, a mathematician and physicist, and Murphy, a theologian and philosopher, argue that an adequate overall account of existence must include research in physical cosmology alongside other research disciplines.[12] The scope of their work is breathtakingly expansive: they consult various sciences, theologies, ethics, and philosophies.

Murphy and Ellis assume the truth of major theories in physics that describe both the macro and micro levels of existence. The authors note the formational role that elemental constituents played in the formation of the universe. They affirm the hot big bang theory of the origin of the universe. Hubble telescope observations in the mid-twentieth century show that the rate distant galaxies recede from our planet is proportional to the distance these galaxies exist from us. The red shift observed in star movement is the primary basis for speaking of our universe as expanding. The expansion of the universe was likely much more rapid in its very early stages.

The basic idea of big bang theory is that our universe exploded into existence about 10 to 20 billion years ago. Within the first second after that explosion, basic physical forces and fundamental particles of matter emerged. Over time, fundamental elements of existence were drawn together by gravity and other forces. From this emerged the basic and the massive structures of existence, including nuclei, atoms, molecules, dust, rocks, planets, stars, galaxies, galaxy clusters, and superclusters. The formation of more complex entities gives reason to speak of the universe’s development in evolutionary terms.

Scientists call the question of why life is possible at all “the anthropic question.”[13] The anthropic principle states that life as we know it required very specific laws and conditions in the beginning of the universe. If these laws and conditions had been altered ever so slightly, the evolution of life would not have been possible. Only very particular laws of physics and very specific initial conditions allow the existence of intelligent life.[14] Physicist Paul Davies refers to the anthropic principle as “the Goldilocks factor,” because the evidence suggests that our universe is “just right” for life.[15] In light of the finely-tuned universe, physicist Freeman Dyson suggests that “as we look out into the universe and identify the many accidents of physics and astronomy that have worked together to our benefit, it almost seems as if the universe must in some sense have known we were coming.”[16]

The anthropic principle does not provide a scientific answer to the basic question of why life exists at all. Science alone cannot answer the question of ultimate causation. Ellis and Murphy argue that a general theory of design best accounts for the fine-tuning of the universe: “The symmetries and delicate balances we observe in the universe require an extraordinary coherence of conditions and cooperation of laws and effects, suggesting that in some sense they have been purposefully designed.”[17] The authors are aware that the claim of purpose and design slips into the domains of metaphysics and theology. “The design concept is one of the most satisfying overall approaches,” they argue, but it necessarily takes one “outside the strictly scientific arena.”[18]

Murphy and Ellis believe that cosmology in general and the apparent fine-tuning of our universe in particular “add important evidence to some theories of ultimate reality.”[19] Fine-tuning alone does not provide the ultimate ground for a grand theory about ultimate reality, but it gives weight to some theories and not others. The authors also acknowledge that “fine-tuning alone does not provide a great deal of support for any particular designer hypothesis.”[20] Extra evidence is required to distinguish which designer hypothesis among the many possible is most adequate.

One of Ellis and Murphy’s central claims is that noncoercive, self-renouncing love fits well with the fine-tuning that cosmologists have discovered was necessary for life to emerge.[21] The authors draw upon the Christian theology of kenosis to support their argument. Kenosis is a Greek New Testament word found in Philippians 2:5-11, and it is often translated as “self-giving,” “self-renunciation,” or “self-denying.” A Christian theology of kenosis suggests that God and at least some creatures are capable of loving self-giving. The authors suggest that the kenotic ethic reflects the moral character of God, and divine kenosis is the basis for creaturely kenosis.

God’s kenotic purpose for creating the universe is reflected in the structures and characteristics of the universe itself. This is especially evident in the fine-tuning of the universe. “While the fine-tuning does not logically require the assumption of a designer,” say Murphy and Ellis, the existence of a God provides a suitable explanation of fine-tuning. [22] The anthropic features of the universe can be interpreted as the necessary conditions not only for life but for intelligence, freedom, and morality. “The anthropic universe is … a moral universe,” say the authors. And “once the universe is seen as a moral universe, it becomes possible to explain added cosmological features that other (nontheistic) accounts of the anthropic features cannot explain: Why is there a universe at all and why is it law like?” This suggests that “while the purpose of creating free creatures cannot be ‘read off’ from cosmology alone, both life and lawlike behavior of the nonhuman universe are necessary conditions for freedom.”[23]

If the ultimate purpose of the universe is to make possible free and moral responses, the universe needs to have been created in such a way that ordered patterns of events occur. Without order, free will is meaningless. “We envisage the creator at all times maintaining the nature and processes of the physical world so that a chosen set of laws of physics describe its evolution,” say Murphy and Ellis. We also “assume freedom of action, albeit constrained by many biological, psychological, and social factors, for without this the concept of morality is meaningless.”[24] After all, “any moral response requires an ordered and predictable universe, as well as creatures with free will.”[25]

Indeterminacy at the quantum level of existence – the micro-level – plays an important part in the moral universe hypothesis Murphy and Ellis propose. Contemporary research in quantum physics in part grounds this proposal. And indeterminacy at the quantum level makes possible scientific denial of an entirely deterministic universe. Many cosmologists affirm that indeterminacy is the ontological character of entities at the micro-level, because to claim that indeterminacy is merely an epistemological issue undermines claims about the ontological status of other phenomena scientists examine.

Murphy and Ellis make a claim that moves beyond affirming indeterminacy at the quantum level. They argue that genuine freedom – self-determination – is present among at least some creatures in the universe. They offer no causal explanation in their book, however, as to how freedom emerged from indeterminacy.[26]

The arguments from Murphy and Ellis for creaturely freedom have direct implications for Open theology. To say that creatures are not entirely determined at the micro-level and that freedom is present among at least humans fits well with Open theology’s claims about the necessity of freedom for love. Freedom plays a key role in love, if love is defined, as I have often done, as acting intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (including God), to promote overall well-being.[27] Complete causal determination contradicts the freedom required for love. Coercion and love are antithetical.

Ellis and Murphy make particular claims about the relevance of Christian theology for their enterprise. They note that the Christian paradigm for divine activity is the revelation of God found best in Jesus. This means, say the authors, that “the relevant feature of God’s action is its self-sacrificial and noncoercive character.”[28] After all, Jesus was self-sacrificial and noncoercive.

A corresponding claim to the notion that God is noncoercive is that God does not overrule or dominate creatures. Murphy and Ellis argue that such coercive action would be necessary for divine intervention in the world, and they reject such intervention. God acts consistently. Cosmology supports this view, say the authors, because “fine-tuning suggests a ‘uniformitarian’ and noninterventionist pattern of divine action – God achieves the divine purposes within the carefully planned system rather than by overriding the natural system.”[29]

The authors conclude their book with a brief look at the problem of evil. The problem, as Ellis and Murphy see it, amounts to why God does not occasionally intervene in the natural order by “overruling natural processes when greater good will come from the exception than from following the rule.”[30] Their proposed response to the problem of evil is that God is voluntarily noninterventionist. “God voluntarily withholds divine power,” the authors speculate, “out of respect for the freedom and integrity of the creatures.”[31] God has decided not to violate the rights of created entities to be what they are. “This mode of action is a voluntary choice on the part of the Creator,” writes Ellis in an article that summarizes the argument, “made because it is the only mode of attaining the goal of eliciting a free response of love and sacrifice from individuals endowed with free will. It implies total restraint in the use of God’s omnipotent power, for otherwise a free response to God’s actions is not possible.”[32]

Voluntarily deciding not to violate the freedom and integrity of creatures entails divine risks and potential costs. The language of risk fits well with some Open theology affirmations. God accepts these risks and costs, say Murphy and Ellis, “in order to achieve a higher goal: the free and intelligent cooperation of the creature in divine activity.”[33] This, too, sounds like something an Open theist might say.

The authors speculate that “at the human level, God action is limited by human limitations but also by free choices in rebellion against God. At the lower levels of complexity, the issue is not sin, but simply the limitations imposed by the fact that the creature is only what it is, and is not God.”[34] Suffering and evil occur because of free humans who sin and because of the long, noncoercive creative process that aims at developing free and intelligent beings.

This cooperative, noncoercive activity of God fits well with an evolutionary picture of existence. The process of creating creatures from recalcitrant matter is slow, indirect, and sometimes painful. But this process, say Ellis and Murphy, reflects God’s “noncoercive, persuasive, painstaking love all the way from the beginning to the end, from the least of God’s creatures to the most splendid.”[35] In fact, the universe’s “fine-tuning can be taken up into a theology that sees God’s noncoercive respect for the freedom and integrity of creatures go all the way back to the initial design of an anthropic (intelligence- and freedom-producing) universe.” For, say the authors, “the freedom of the creature is central to God’s eighteen-billion-year project.”[36]

The emphasis that Murphy and Ellis place upon divine loving persuasion and creaturely freedom coheres well with basic affirmations in Open theology. These affirmations should also play central roles in an adequate Open theology doctrine of creation and an Open theology solution to the theoretical aspect of the problem of evil.

Cosmology, Nothingness, Scripture

Contemporary cosmology suggests a limited number of viable over-arching theories to account for the beginning and expansion of the universe. Paul Davies identifies six main theories: [37]

  1. An absolute beginning to the universe and subsequent everlasting expansion.
  2. An absolute beginning to the universe followed by the termination of the universe after a period of expansion.
  3. An absolute beginning to the universe, expansion to a maximum state, and a return to a state identical to the absolute beginning.
  4. An everlastingly cyclic universe, in which expansion and contraction is followed by a “big bounce” into another cycle of expansion and contraction.
  5. A steady state universe with no beginning or end but everlasting expansion.
  6. An everlasting multiverse in which our universe is one among others.[38]

Each of these theories supports various emotional, theological, and metaphysical preferences.

Open theists are committed to the biblical notion that God is Creator. None of the six main options Davies lists are essentially incompatible with this claim. But some are more compatible than others, and some are more compatible with big bang cosmology widely accepted by contemporary cosmologists. Davies’ option five, for instance, does not fit well with big bang cosmology, because it denies a beginning to the universe. Option six is deemed conceptually incoherent by some, especially when the emphasis is placed upon an infinite number of simultaneously existing universes that have existed infinitely. Other versions of option six may someday prove compelling, but the theoretical issues pertaining to infinity will need to be resolved for it to be viable.

Options one through three that Davies lists share a common commitment to an absolute beginning to the universe. This affirmation coheres well with the notion of creation out of absolutely nothing, a doctrine that has played a principal part in Christian, Jewish, and Muslim creation narratives. Advocates of creatio ex nihilo typically believe the first verses of the Old Testament affirm the doctrine: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters” (Gen. 1:1-2).

We saw at the outset of this essay that Open theists are not uniform in their views on creation ex nihilo. However, one prominent Open theist, John Polkinghorne, affirms the classic doctrine for theological reasons. Polkinghorne argues that Christian theology should draw from research in physical cosmology, but theology should regard “the world as the consequence of a free act of divine decision and as separate from deity. The universe’s inherent contingency is conventionally and vividly expressed in the idea of creation ex nihilo.”[39] The doctrine that God creates from absolutely nothing implies, says Polkinghorne, that “the divine will alone is the source of created being.”[40]

Crucial to Polkinghorne’s view of creation from nothing is the idea that no conditions bind God’s free and omnipotent decision to create. “To hold a doctrine of creation ex nihilo is to hold that all that is depends, now and always, on the freely exercised will of God. It is certainly not to believe that God started things off by manipulating a curious kind of stuff called ‘nothing.’”[41]

Polkinghorne affirms that creatures – at least humans – are not entirely determined by God or others. God’s conveys respect for the integrity of the natural processes by his gift of freedom to creation. “In the case of inanimate creation, the outworking of these principles will not be overruled,” says Polkinghorne. “In the case of animate creatures, there is a much greater degree of autonomy to be respected, and I believe that God will interact with them in ways that are appropriate to their natures.”[42]

Like Murphy and Ellis, Polkinghorne appeals to kenosis theology to account for existence. “God interacts with the world but is not in total control of all its process,” he says. This involves a “curtailment of divine power” that comes through voluntary self-limitation. “God remains omnipotent in the sense that he can do whatever he wills,” says Polkinghorne, “but it is not in accordance with his will and nature to insist on total control.”[43]

Although some Open theologians affirm creation ex nihilo, nearly all know that the opening verses of Genesis do not refer to an absolute nothingness from which God allegedly created. Many contemporary biblical scholars believe that none of the biblical texts support creatio ex nihilo in its literal sense.[44]

Perhaps the most eloquent of biblical scholars on this issue is Jon D. Levenson, author of Creation and the Persistence of Evil: The Jewish Drama of Divine Omnipotence.[45] Levenson notes that biblical scholars have argued that we best interpret Genesis 1:1 as a temporal clause: “When God began to create the heaven and the earth” [emphasis mine].[46] This temporal clause does not suggest an absolute beginning of time. Furthermore, the phrase translated “formless void” (tohu wabohu), says Levenson, is best translated as “primordial chaos.”[47] Following the biblical reference to the Spirit hovering over this primordial chaos, the author of Genesis speaks of darkness on the “face of the deep.” The “deep,” which is tehom in Hebrew, refers to something nondivine and primordially present when God began to create. Biblical scholar, Brevard Childs, says that “the tehom signifies here the primeval waters which were also uncreated.”[48]

Levenson and other biblical authors argue that Genesis 1 suggests that even in the first moments of creation, God encounters other forces. These forces oppose, at least partially, God’s creative will. The concern of creation theology in Hebrew scripture is not creatio ex nihilo but the establishment of a benevolent and life-sustaining order founded upon God’s demonstrated authority and triumphs over all rivals.[49] “We can capture the essence of the idea of creation in the Hebrew Bible with the word ‘mastery,’” argues Levenson.[50] In that mastery, God is the victor in combat, but God’s foes continue to survive.[51] “Properly understood,” says Levenson in summary, Genesis 1:1-2:3 “cannot be invoked in support of the developed Jewish, Christian, and Muslim doctrine of creatio ex nihilo.”[52]

The first Christian theologian to use unambiguously the substance and the terminology of the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo was Theophilus of Antioch. It would be early church theologian Irenaeus, however, who solidified creatio ex nihilo in the Church. The doctrine fit well with the Neo-platonic doctrine of God gaining influence in the early Christianity. Neo-platonism taught that God is eternal, self-sufficient, simple, impassible, omnipotent, immutable, and commands the world through the divine will.[53] The omni-sovereignty of God was an especially important element in creatio ex nihilo.[54] “The will of God must rule and dominate in everything,” Irenaeus argued, “everything else must give way to it, be subordinated to it and be a servant to it.”[55] Open theists have often been critical of the Neo-platonic view of God, in general, and the view that God dominates everything, in particular.

Creatio ex Chaosmos

If God created our fine-tuned universe billions of years ago out of absolutely nothing, God must have a particular kind of power. As we have seen, some theologians defend creatio ex nihilo because of what the concept implies about God’s sovereignty. But creation out of nothing also implies that God has the kind of power required to prevent evil unilaterally. If God can single-handedly bring something from nothing, God can single-handedly prevent genuinely evil events. A perfectly loving God would always work to prevent genuine evil, if preventing such evil were possible. An adequate view of the origin of the universe seems to require a theory of divine power that accounts both for the big bang and for why our loving God does not prevent the occurrence of genuine evil.

Two process theologians have done detailed and persuasive work to show the problems inherent in creation ex nihilo for conceiving of divine power in relation to creaturely freedom. David Ray Griffin has addressed the issues of initial creation, evil, and divine power in several writings. Griffin affirms that God loves perfectly and that God created the universe. But he argues that creatio ex nihilo implies that God has the kind of power that makes God culpable for failing to prevent genuinely evil occurrences. A God who can unilaterally create from absolutely nothing could also unilaterally prevent any genuine evil. Because evil occurs, says Griffin, God must not have that kind of power.

The implication of the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo, says Griffin, “is that the world has no inherent power, no power of its own, with which it could resist the divine will.” This means that God can unilaterally determine creatures, and God can arbitrarily suspend the laws of nature.[56] But a God with the power to control creatures entirely is culpable for making evil possible in the first place and for failing to prevent genuine evils that subsequently occur. “If God is said to have created the world out of absolute nothingness,” says Griffin, “the origin of evil cannot be explained, at least without implying that God’s goodness is less than perfect.”[57]

As an alternative to creatio ex nihilo, Griffin speculates that our universe began from the relative chaos – what we might call a “chaosmos” – of a previous universe. We can suppose, says Griffin, “that between the decay of the previous cosmic epoch and the beginning of the present one … there would have been no social order, no societies – no electrons, protons, photons, or even quarks.”[58] All finite occasions would have been extremely trivial. “The first stage of the creation of our cosmic epoch,” suggests Griffin, “would have involved the formation of very low-grade serially-ordered societies (perhaps quarks) out of such a chaotic state. Later stages would have involved the creation of more complex societies out of these simpler ones.”[59]

Griffin’s alternative creation proposal is important for what it means for divine power. “There was no stage at which God could unilaterally determine the states of affairs…. Divine creativity can never obliterate or override the creativity of the creatures.”[60] The God unable to obliterate or override the freedom of creatures even at the creation of the universe cannot be held culpable for failing to override creaturely freedom to prevent genuine evil any time in the history of the universe.

Griffin argues that his proposal fits with central notions of fine-tuning most contemporary cosmologists affirm. According to Griffin’s view, God can set the laws and constraints for a particular universe in its initial moments and yet not have the capacity to control others entirely at any time before or after. Divine coercion, even at the big bang, is not necessary to regard God as Creator.

Although God always interacts with others, the competition to God’s activity prior to the big bang is different in degree than the competition thereafter. “Prior to the beginning of our particular cosmic epoch…the realm of finite actualities was (by hypothesis) in a state of chaos, in the sense that there were no societies, not even extremely simple serially-ordered societies such as photos and quarks.” There was “a multiplicity of finite actual occasions, but they were extremely brief events … happening at random.”[61] In the first instant of our particular universe, God’s noncoercive power could be nearly coercive, given the simplicity of occasions that existed in the chaosmos with which God related. “A divine spirit, brooding over the chaos, would only have had to think, ‘Let there be X!’ (with X standing for the complex interconnected set of contingent principles embodied in our world at the outset, constituting its fine tuning).”[62] Before the big bang, during it, and thereafter, God’s power is always and necessarily persuasive.

Griffin is careful to point out that although entities predated the big bang of our universe, his hypothesis does not require any particular world to exist necessarily. “What exists necessarily,” he says, “is God-with-a-realm-of-finite-existents.” Although God is the only being who exists necessarily, God is necessarily related to some world or another. “The necessary existence of God,” Griffin says summarily, “implies the necessary existence of a world – not of our world, of course, and not even a world in the sense of an ordered cosmos, but simply a realm of finite existents, which can exist either in an ordered or a chaotic state.”[63]

Catherine Keller is the second process theologian whose work on creation and divine power is particularly relevant. Keller’s work in The Face of the Deep: A Theology of Becoming, is similar to Griffin’s in its denial of creatio ex nihilo. Keller offers, however, perhaps the fullest creation theology available built upon the notion that God as creator does not create out of absolutely nothing.[64]

Keller begins The Face of the Deep by addressing biblical and historical scholarship pertaining to creatio ex nihilo. “The author of Genesis,” says Keller, “assumed that the universe was created from a primal chaos: something uncreated, something Other, something that a creator could mold, form, or call to order.”[65] This assumption was suppressed in early Christian history, however. “The Christian theology that early came to dominate the church,” says Keller, “could not tolerate this constraint upon God’s power: for why should “He” have had to reckon with an Other? This prevenient chaos cramped the growling Christian imagery of mastery – what we may call its dominology, its logos of lordship.”[66] Contemporary theology, says Keller, has largely disregarded the biblical case against the ex nihilo, and it is still coming to grips with the negative realities of union with empires.

Keller calls her alternative to creatio ex nihilo a tehomic theology of creatio ex profundis. The word “tehomic” is a derivative of the Hebrew word tehom found in Genesis 1 and typically translated “the deep.” Profundis refers to the chaos from which God creates. Keller’s creation theology, then, explores and expands the Genesis motif of God creating from the watery depths.

The tehomic theology Keller proposes is relational at its core. Its relational God “remains enmeshed in the vulnerabilities and potentialities of an indeterminate creativity.”[67] This indeterminate creativity, says Keller, is never before or outside time and space. God’s essential relatedness to others means that God is never immune from response to creatures, including creaturely suffering. This integral Creator-creation relationship makes tehomic theology “a theological alternative to the dangerously unavowed amorality of omnipotence.”[68]

To say that God always relates to or enmeshes in the creativity of others undermines the idea that creation is entirely independent of God. A God related to creation also undermines the idea that the tehom of scripture is inherently evil. Creatio ex chaosmos does not require one to say that the chaos from which God creates is absolutely autonomous or essentially evil. Instead, Keller affirms that the chaosmic other from which God creates intimately relates to and depends upon God. “If beginning takes place in the interplay between the possible future and the given past,” she argues, “it presupposes always a tangled complexity of relations. These relations remain largely unconscious, dim, unformed. Thus the nexus of relations may be felt as chaos…. Chaos is not just prevenient; it is also…created.”[69] In fact, says Keller, the interaction between God and the tehom might be labeled in Latin as creatio cooperationis. The creativity with which God relates is “the active potentiality for both good and evil.”[70]

In light of contemporary cosmology, Keller refers to the Genesis 1 narrative of creation as “seven days of self-organization.” Keller notes that scientific autocatalysis makes no such presumption of creation from absolutely nothing: “on the contrary, it signifies emergence as creation from the chaos of prevenient conditions.”[71] But this self-organization requires divine influence. While God does not unilaterally order a world into existence, God does attract multi-tiered cooperation. “Creation takes place as invitation and cooperation,” suggests Keller.[72] She asks rhetorically, “Could what scientists call ‘self-organizing complexity’ now be read as an articulation of divine creativity?”[73]

Conceiving of God as Creator in relation to a God-created chaosmos, suggests Keller, can “also shed light on divine love.” But this love is divine eros. And it neither controls entirely nor guarantees dominion over others.[74] In fact, says Keller, “to love is to bear with the chaos.”[75]

The Science of an Endless Universe

The work of Griffin and Keller provides theological reasons to reject contemporary cosmology options one through three that Davies lists – cosmologies that require an absolute beginning to the universe and can be expressed theologically as creation out of absolutely nothing. I suggested earlier that options five and six are problematic for scientific and conceptual reasons. Option four -- an everlastingly cyclic universe – remains. At first glance, it seems to cohere with Griffin and Keller’s theological proposals, because they argue that God always relates to some universe or another. This everlastingly relational and persuasive God would need to be powerful enough, however, to initiate the big bang of our universe and every universe before and after. Yet this God must not possess the kind of power to be held culpable for failing to prevent genuine evils caused by free or indeterminate creatures.

We need to look briefly at the scientific side of option four to be sure it does not oppose Open theology’s claim that God is Creator. The idea that our universe emerged from the chaos of a previous universe is growing in popularity among contemporary cosmologists. “A persistently compelling picture,” says physicist John Barrow, “is one in which the universe undergoes a cyclic history, periodically disappearing in a great conflagration before reappearing phoenix-like from the ashes.” Our universe would be a singularity, although one singularity in an everlasting succession of singularities. “It is possible for any particular domain to have a history that has a definite beginning in an inflationary quantum event,” says Barrow, “but the process as a whole could just go on in a steady fashion for all eternity, past and present.”[76]

Physicists Paul J. Steinhardt and Neil Turok offer perhaps the most complete cyclic universe proposal. In their book, Endless Universe: Beyond the Big Bang, the authors consider the creation of our universe part of an infinite cycle of collisions. According to them, the big bang was not the beginning of time. The “big bang might not be the ‘beginning’ of the universe after all,” say Turok and Steinhardt, “but instead a physically explicable event with a ‘before’ and an ‘after’.”[77] The big bang is part of an endless cycle of emerging new universes, each with new materials and new entities. “The cyclic tale pictures a universe in which galaxies, stars, and life have been formed over and over again long before the most recent big bang, and will be remade cycle after cycle far into the future.”[78]

The absolute beginning theory of the universe has no answer to one of the most fundamental questions of existence: How did the universe begin, if there was nothing existing before it? Theories that propose an absolute beginning to the universe are problematic, say Turok and Steinhardt, because “there are no rigorous physical principles that dictate how to go from ‘nothing’ to ‘something’.”[79]

The cyclic model builds on several key elements. From string theory and M theory come the ideas of branes and extra dimensions. These theories allow for a big bang where the density of matter and radiation is finite. Furthermore, observations of the present universe indicate the existence of dark energy, and dark energy is ideal for smoothing and flattening the universe. Steinhardt and Turok speculate that the same dark energy acting before the big bang could explain why the universe is smooth and flat on large scales today. Finally, the decay of the dark energy leads to a buildup of energy sufficient to power the big bang. Yet this dark energy can simultaneously generate density variations that can give rise to galaxies after the bang.[80] “A combination of branes and an extra dimension, with regular assists from gravity and dark energy,” suggest the authors, “can cause the universe to repeatedly replenish itself with galaxies, stars, and life at regular intervals while always obeying the second law of thermodynamics.”[81]

The cyclic model offers several advantages to the notion that our universe had an absolute beginning from absolutely nothing. First, instead of the big bang being the absolute beginning of space and time, the cyclic model suggests that our universe began with a collision of materials that pre-date the big bang. According to the cyclic theory, say Turok and Steinhardt, “the big bang was triggered by the decay of dark energy that existed before the big bang.”[82]

The cyclic model says, secondly, that big bangs occur at intervals of about one trillion years, with many big bangs occurring before ours and many yet to come. “Each bang creates new matter and radiation and initiates a new period of cosmic expansion,” say Turok and Steinhardt, “leading to the formation of new galaxies, stars, planets and life. Space naturally smooths and flattens itself after each cycle of galaxy formation and before the next big bang.”[83]

Third, some features of our current universe were present in and influenced by previous universes. “All the physical properties of the universe are the same, on average, from cycle to cycle,” say Steinhardt and Turok. “Some properties thought to be constants, like the masses of elementary particles, the strengths of the various forces, and the cosmological constant, could actually vary over very long periods.”[84] From before to after the bang,” say Turok and Steinhardt, “the fabric of space remains intact, the energy is always finite, and time proceeds smoothly.”[85]

The conclusion of each universe involves a big crunch as the universe completes its contraction. But a new big bang follows this crunch. Some features from the previous universe persist, but “every cycle is different in fine details because the quantum jumps are random and governed by the laws of chance,” say Turok and Steinhardt. The average properties of each universe remain the same. Galaxies, stars, and planets like Earth on which intelligent forms of life may develop will be created anew in each universe.[86]

Contemporary advocates of the cyclic universe model that Turok and Steinhardt propose are quick to note that this hypothesis does not entail a Nietzschean eternal repetition of the exact same. Paul Davies, for instance, argues that we should distinguish between cyclic models for which time is a closed circle occupied by creatures doomed to repeat the same events endlessly and cyclic models in which the most basic metaphysical features are passed from one universe to a succeeding one. The second cyclic model involves the emergence of genuine novelty while maintaining metaphysical continuity.[87]

Affirming both continuity and discontinuity is crucial for the Open theology of creation I am proposing. I argue that the cyclic model that Steinhardt and Turok advocate finds analogies to both the resurrection of Jesus and the Pauline claim that Christians become new creations. Both the resurrected body of Christ and Christians who enjoy new creation enjoy both continuity and discontinuity with their past. What is new, is genuinely new. But the genuinely new also retains some similarities to what has come before. The cyclic universe being advocated is one in which each successive universe both retains metaphysical similarities with past universes and emerge (as created by God) as genuinely novel creations.

The cyclic model I advocate also offers a directionality missing in either the model based on an absolute beginning from absolutely nothing or cyclic universe models supposing an eternal recurrence of the same. A universe with an absolute beginning and headed for an uninhabitable everlasting state sounds ultimately misanthropic and potentially undermines the call to take earth care seriously. And an eternally identical cycle of universes is nonpurposive. A universe bound to repeat endlessly offers no hope for genuine transformation. But multiply successive universes initially created and constantly sustained by God, with each possessing the possibility for something new and actually new life forms, is a cyclic universe proposal that is purposive, proanthropic, and hopeful. And this version of a cyclic universe is compatible with Open theology’s claim that God is Creator.

Essential Kenosis

The final element in this Open theology of creation and the key to solving the theoretical aspect of the problem of evil is a theory I call “essential kenosis.” I noted earlier that most Open theists are unsatisfied with the concepts of divine power they find in process theology. While process theology reformulates divine power in such a way as to resolve the problem of evil, the typical Open theist worries that process theology either makes God overly dependent upon creation or regards God as overly constrained by external conditions such that God is not the most powerful being plausibly conceivable.

In this final section, I propose that essential kenosis resolves these problems. It affirms that God never coerces and is thus not culpable for failing to prevent evil. But it also affirms that God is the most powerful existing being, does not depend upon creation to continue existing, and is not constrained by external conditions or forces. As almighty, the God of essential kenosis is capable of the miraculous, resurrecting Jesus, and a inspiring a triumphant eschaton.

The problem with the notion of kenosis that Murphy, Ellis, and Polkinghorne advocate is that it envisions God as voluntarily self-limited. A God who voluntarily chooses to refrain from controlling others remains culpable for failing to prevent genuine evils. A voluntarily self-limited God should at least occasionally become un-self-limited, in the name of love, to prevent the suffering and pain that victims of genuine evil experience.

It is not plausible that to maintain the freedom of the entire created order, God must refrain preventing any genuinely evil event. To make it personal: it is not plausible that God could stop the rape of someone you know – your wife, sister, or cousin – but God chooses to allow the rape because the overall balance of freedom in the universe requires God to do so. If we can think of one instance of genuine evil that God should prevent (and we can think of many), a God who voluntarily self-limits is culpable for failing to prevent that evil. The voluntarily self-limited God should be capable of keeping the liabilities of creaturely freedom in check to prevent genuinely evil occurrences. But such evils occur. A voluntarily self-limited God is culpable, and this God should not be considered perfectly loving.

Essential kenosis theory provides a solution to this problem. It proposes that God is unable to withdraw, fail to offer, or overcome the freedom and agency God gives creatures in each moment of their existence. God’s inability is not due to external forces or the laws of nature. God’s inability does not arise because of divine dependence upon creation. Essential kenosis suggests that God’s inability to withdraw, fail to offer, or overcome the freedom and agency God gives creatures derives from God’s essence of relational love. And the God not able to withdraw, fail to offer, or overcome the freedom and agency of creation is a God who cannot be held culpable for failing to prevent the genuine evil creatures cause.

Essential kenosis, as its names suggests, is a kenotic theory of divine agency. It says that God gives, self-empties, empowers, and inspires in the sense reflected in the Philippians passage in which the word is found. Out of a nature of love, God gives. Because self-giving love derives from God’s essence, however, God could no more fail to give than fail to exist. Self-giving love is one of God’s essential and, therefore, necessary attributes. Essential kenosis affirms that God’s nature and name is love, to quote the Charles Wesley hymn.

God’s self-giving love provides freedom and agency to all with whom God relates. Because God’s eternal essence has had no beginning and has no end, God has been providing freedom and agency to creatures forever. God is everlastingly faithful to grant freedom and agency to creatures, because God’s nature has everlastingly been love. God has always provided freedom and agencies to the creatures and creation that God creates.

God’s essential nature of everlasting love entails that God cannot not love. To use Old Testament language, God’s love is steadfast. Although God must love because love is in God’s eternal nature, God remains free to choose the particular ways in which God will love others. In an open future, God’s choices about how to express love are decided in relation to creation. Divine love necessarily and everlastingly involves kenosis: the giving of freedom and agency to creatures through God’s empowering, inspiring, and transforming presence.[88]

Some have suggested that the love of God is necessary in Trinitarian relations but accidental in relations with creation. To its benefit, essential kenosis does not require one to exclude creatures from God’s necessary love. God can love necessarily within Trinity and love the world necessarily. Both can be affirmed. To say it differently, the love God expresses is neither arbitrary among Trinitarian members nor arbitrary toward creation. God’s trustworthy, steadfast love never fails to give and receive love in the Trinity nor give love and receive whatever love creatures express in response to God’s enabling.[89]

The God of essential kenosis remains is the almighty God whom Christians should love and worship. This God is the most powerful being one can plausibly conceive (given divine love and creaturely freedom). The God envisioned here is mightier than all others and exerts might upon all others. The almighty God of essential kenosis should be credited with resurrecting Jesus, the primary actor in various biblical miracles, and ultimate ground for nonviolent eschatology.[90]

The God of essential kenosis theory also exists necessarily. God does not depend upon creatures, creation, or any world to continue to exist. And the God of essential kenosis is not constrained by outside forces or external agents. God’s inability to prevent genuine evil results from God’s essence as self-giving love. Rather than others imposing restrictions on God’s ability to control others, God’s very nature is self-giving, others-empowering love.

Conclusion

I have proposed that Open theists should embrace the theory of essential kenosis as part of an adequate Open theology of original creation and as the heart of the theoretical solution to the problem of evil. Both the theology of creation and the solution to the problem of evil I propose are firmly grounded in divine love.

This Open theology of creation adopts a cosmology that affirms the big bang origination of our universe. But it says that God’s creative action to initiate this big bang was also creative action at work prior to our universe. God will continue to create universes after ours runs down. God does not create ex nihilo; God created our universe from chaosmos. Because God’s very nature is self-giving love, God is always creating, and relating to, and loving creaturely others.

The kenotic love of God’s necessary nature is love that gives freedom and agency to all creaturely entities. God cannot fail to offer, withdraw, or overcome divinely-given freedom and agency. When self-determinate or indeterminate creatures use their God-given freedom and agency wrongly, God cannot be held culpable for failing to prevent the evil that ensues. Free and indeterminate creatures should be blamed for evil.

Essential kenosis provides a way for Open theists to follow the logic of love. The logic of love in essential kenosis generates a theology of creation that consistently affirms divine love and provides a solution to why an almighty and all-loving God fails to prevent genuine evil.

For more from the author Thomas Jay Oord, see his website https://thomasjayoord.com or the Center for Open and Relational Theology https://c4ort.com

Notes

  1. I distinguish between five aspects of the problem of evil: theoretical, pedagogical, empathetic, therapeutic, and strategic. The theoretical aspect refers to the traditional formulation of the problem of why a loving and almighty God does not prevent evil. The solution to the theoretical aspect requires formulating divine power, divine love, or genuine evil in some way as to affirm all three. The other aspects pertain to other important responses by God and creatures to the pain and suffering evil generates.

  2. On the problem with the typical Open theology answer to the problem of evil, see Clark H. Pinnock, Most Moved Mover: A Theology of God’s Openness (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker, 2001), 140-151. Perhaps the best formulation of an Open theology answer to the problem of evil from the perspective that God is voluntarily self-limited is William Hasker, Providence, Evil, and the Openness of God (London: Routledge, 2004) and The Triumph of God over Evil: Theodicy for a World of Suffering (Downers Grove, Ill.: Intervarsity, 2008). My comments in this paper, however, indicate my belief that Hasker does not answer adequately the question of why God does not prevent genuine evil.

  3. For a comparison of similarities and differences between Open and Process theologies, see Thomas Jay Oord, “Evangelical Theologies,” in Handbook of Process Theology, Jay McDaniel and Donna Bowman, eds. (St. Louis, Mo.: Chalice, 2006).

  4. See, for instance, David Basinger, Divine Power in Process Theism: A Philosophical Critique (Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1988).

  5. David Ray Griffin argues otherwise in “Process Theology and the Christian Good News: A Response to Classical Free Will Theism,” in Searching for an Adequate God: A Dialogue between Process and Free Will Theists, John B. Cobb, Jr., and Clark H. Pinnock, eds. (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2000).

  6. This is the position taken by Clark Pinnock and others in Pinnock, et. al., The Openness of God: A Biblical Challenge to the Traditional Understanding of God (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1994).

  7. See Pinnock, Most Moved Mover, ch. 3. Pinnock acknowledges “that Genesis 1 does not itself teach ex nihilo creation but presents God as imposing order on chaos . . .” (Most Moved Mover, 146).

  8. See Gregory Boyd’s essay in this volume, references to his other work, and God at War: The Bible and Spiritual Conflict (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1997).

  9. Michael E. Lodahl, “Creation Out of Nothing? Or is Next to Nothing Good Enough?” in Thy Nature and Thy Name is Love: Wesleyan and Process Theologies in Dialogue, Bryan P. Stone and Thomas Jay Oord, eds. (Nashville, Tenn.: Kingswood, 2001), ch. 9. See also Amos Yong, a Pentecostal theologian whose work addresses doctrines of creation in “Possibility and Actuality: The Doctrine of Creation and Its Implications for Divine Omniscience,” The Wesleyan Philosophical Society Online Journal [http://david.snu.edu/~brint.fs/wpsjnl/v1n1.htm] 1:1 (2001).

  10. The similarities and differences between my proposal and Philip Clayton’s revolve primarily around creatio ex nihilo. For a concise summary of his position, see “Open Panentheism and Creatio ex Nihilo,” in Process Studies, 37:1 (Spring-Summer 2008): 166-183.

  11. I lay out the argument for essential kenosis in various books, most specifically in The Uncontrolling Love of God: An Open and Relational Account of Providence (Downers Grove, Ill.: Intervarsity Press Academic, 2015).

  12. Nancy Murphy and George F. R. Ellis, On the Moral Nature of the Universe: Theology, Cosmology, and Ethics (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996). See also, Ellis, “The Theology of the Anthropic Principle,” in Quantum Cosmology and the Laws of Nature, Robert Russell, et. al., eds. (Vatican Observatory/CTNS, 1993).

  13. Key texts explaining the anthropic principle, fine-tuning, and their various features include John Barrow and Frank Tipler, The Anthropic Cosmological Principle (Oxford: Clarendon, 1986) and Paul Davies, The Accidental Universe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982).

  14. Murphy and Ellis, On the Moral Nature of the Universe, 52.

  15. Paul Davies, Cosmic Jackpot: Why Our Universe is Just Right for Life (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2007).

  16. Freeman Dyson, Disturbing the Universe (New York: Harper and Row, 1979), 250.

  17. Murphy and Ellis, On the Moral Nature of the Universe, 57.

  18. Ibid., 59.

  19. Ibid., 63.

  20. Ibid., 202.

  21. Ibid., 249.

  22. Ibid., 208.

  23. Ibid., 203.

  24. Ibid., 207.

  25. Ibid., 208.

  26. Some of Murphy’s thoughts on the subject are found in her book with Warren Brown, Did My Neurons Make Me Do It? Philosophical and Neurobiological Perspectives on Moral Responsibility and Free Will (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).

  27. See, for instance, Thomas Jay Oord, The Altruism Reader: Selections from Writings on Love, Religion and Science (Philadelphia: Templeton, 2008); Science of Love: The Wisdom of Well-Being (Philadelphia: Templeton, 2004); and A Turn to Love: The Love, Theology, and Science Symbiosis (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Brazos, forthcoming).

  28. Ibid., 214.

  29. Ibid., 230.

  30. Ibid., 246.

  31. Ibid.

  32. George F. R. Ellis, “Kenosis as a Unifying Theme for Life and Cosmology,” in The Work of Love: Creation as Kenosis, John Polkinghorne, ed. (Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans, 2001), 144.

  33. Ibid.

  34. Ibid., 247.

  35. Ibid.

  36. Ibid., 249.

  37. Paul Davies, “Eternity: Who Needs It?” in The Far-Future Universe: Eschatology from a Cosmic Perspective, George F. R. Ellis, ed. (Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation, 2002), 42-44.

  38. For a well-written explanation of the multiverse possibility, see Alex Vilenkin, Many Worlds in One: The Search for Other Universes (New York: Hill and Wang, 2006).

  39. Ibid., 73.

  40. Ibid., 74.

  41. Ibid.

  42. Ibid., 79.

  43. Ibid.

  44. Of course, some Hebrew Bible scholars still interpret that Genesis 1 as affirming creatio ex nihilo. But they are in the minority. See Paul Copan and William Lane Craig, Creation out of Nothing: A Biblical, Philosophical, and Scientific Exploration (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker, 2004).

  45. Jon D. Levenson, Creation and the Persistence of Evil: The Jewish Drama of Divine Omnipotence (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1994; New York: Harper & Row, 1987).

  46. Ibid., 121.

  47. Ibid., xx. Levenson also notes that nowhere in the seven-day creation scheme does God create the waters; they are also most likely primordial (5).

  48. Brevard S. Childs, Myth and Reality in the Old Testament, Studies in Biblical Theology, No. 27 (London: SCM, 1960), 33.

  49. Ibid., 47.

  50. Ibid., 3.

  51. Ibid., 17-18.

  52. Ibid., 121. Many other Genesis scholars agree with Levenson. Claus Westermann argues, for instance, that creatio ex nihilo “is foreign to both the language and thought of P (the unknown author of Genesis 1); it is clear that there can be here no question of a creatio ex nihilo; our query about the origin of matter is not answered; the idea of an initial chaos goes back to mythical and premythical thinking” (Genesis 1-11. A Commentary, John J. Scullion, S. J., trans. [London: SPCK, 1994], 110, 121). Terrence Fretheim writes that “God’s creating in Genesis 1…includes ordering that which already exists…. God works creatively with already existing reality to bring about newness” (God and World in the Old Testament: A Relational Theology of Creation [Nashville, Tenn.: Abingdon, 2005], 5).

  53. Gerhard May, 164-174.

  54. Ibid., 169, 172, 174, 175, 177.

  55. Irenaeus, Adversus haereses, II, ed. W. W. Harvey (n/a), 34:4; May, Creatio Ex Nihilo, 174.

  56. David Ray Griffin, Reenchantment without Supernaturalism: A Process Philosophy of Religion (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001), 137.

  57. David Ray Griffin, “Creation out of Nothing, Creation out of Chaos, and the Problem of Evil,” in Encountering Evil: Live Options in Theodicy, Stephen T. Davis, ed. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 114.

  58. Griffin, Reenchantment without Supernaturalism, 143.

  59. Ibid.

  60. Ibid.

  61. Ibid., 217.

  62. Ibid., 217-218.

  63. Griffin, “Creation out of Nothing, Creation out of Chaos, and the Problem of Evil,” 122.

  64. Catherine Keller, The Face of the Deep: A Theology of Becoming. See also Sjoerd L. Bonting, Chaos Theology: A Revised Creation Theology (Ottawa: Novalis, 2002) and James Edward Hutchingson, Pandemoneum Tremendum: Chaos and Mystery in the Life of God (Pilgrim, 2000).

  65. Keller, The Face of the Deep, xvii.

  66. Ibid.

  67. Ibid., 226.

  68. Ibid., 49.

  69. Ibid., 161.

  70. Ibid., 91.

  71. Ibid., 196.

  72. Ibid., 195.

  73. Ibid., 117.

  74. Ibid., 198-99.

  75. Ibid., 29.

  76. Barrow, 30. Other cosmologist finds the endless universe theory attractive. Alan Guth argues that “it seems far more plausible that our universe was the result of universe reproduction than that it was created by a unique cosmic event” (Quoted in Paul J. Steinhardt and Neil Turok, Endless Universe: Beyond the Big Bang [New York: Doubleday, 2007], 226). Paul Davies also finds the idea plausible, but he remains noncommittal on the options (see Davies material in the Ellis book quoted earlier).

  77. Steinhardt and Turok, Endless Universe, 15.

  78. Ibid., 61.

  79. Ibid., 226.

  80. Ibid., 164.

  81. Ibid., 193.

  82. Ibid., 60.

  83. Ibid., 61.

  84. Ibid., 166.

  85. Ibid., 61-62.

  86. Ibid., 65.

  87. Davies in Ellis, 45.

  88. I have been distinguishing between freedom and agency in this essay as a way to denote both self-determinate and indeterminate creatures. I do this to account for both the evil that free creatures generate and the evil resulting from simple entities that possibly lack self-determination and surely lack conscious intent. While on the one hand, I am attracted to the hypothesis of Ian Barbour, David Ray Griffin, and others influenced by Alfred North Whitehead that subjectivity and freedom should be expected at every level of complexity, I am also aware that physicists and many biologists fail to detect such freedom among simpler entities. I use agency, then, to account for the indeterminate state of these simple entities. The word “indeterminate” accounts for chance actions in aggregates, such as rocks, sticks, and metal bars. Essential kenosis claims that God cannot withdraw, fail to offer, or override the self-determinacy or indeterminacy of any entity whatsoever.

  89. The theory of essential kenosis does not require Trinitarian theories that suppose intratrinitarian relations. Theologians who do not find social Trinity formulations convincing can still affirm essential kenosis for what it claims about God’s essence as relational, self-giving, and other-empowering love for creatures.

  90. I don’t have essay space to defend this claim here. But I should at least say that essential kenosis does not undermine these Christian doctrines, although it certainly undermines those versions of the doctrines that require divine coercion.

 

A Metaphysics for the Love-and-Science Symbiosis

The enterprise of metaphysics is indispensable to religion and to science.[1]

Not long ago, this declaration would have seemed self-evident. Today, it strikes many as controversial. We live in an age in which many scholars are suspicious of the metaphysical enterprise. With Jean-Francois Lyotard, they are convinced of the “incredulity of metanarratives.”[2]

This paper bucks the current trend. It offers a metaphysics for that area of science-and-religion research that I call “the love-and-science symbiosis.” This field of research examines scientific and religious dimensions of love believing that the scholarship that emerges can profit society in a variety of ways.

I begin by delineating what I mean by “metaphysics.” The metaphysics that I suggest evades or overcomes legitimate objections to other metaphysical schemes. In the contemporary climate, an apologetic for metaphysics seems required.

After a brief defense of metaphysics, I offer main features of a metaphysical scheme that I believe is most adequate for the love-and-science symbiosis. Drawing from a variety of philosophical traditions, I suggest the bare outlines of what I call a “relational metaphysics.” Of course, a full explication and defense of a relational metaphysics would require more space than allotted here. Throughout the essay, I attempt to avoid technical philosophical language to reach across disciplines and boundaries.

In Defense of Metaphysics

In everyday language, one might define metaphysics minimally as a comprehensive proposal for how things work. In the way we act, if not also in our language, we all presuppose that things work in particular ways and for particular reasons. When our general ideas and experiences are critically analyzed and elaborated, explicit metaphysical thinking occurs.

The endeavor to construct a metaphysics involves a rigorous attempt to proffer an all-embracing hypothesis to explain the wide diversity of life’s experiences. Obviously, this is an awesome undertaking. But because we all assume some explanation for how things work, a rigorously constructed grand hypothesis – a metaphysics – can be profoundly helpful for assessing and addressing the multifarious questions of life.

Defining metaphysics as I do immediately overcomes some contemporary objections to metaphysics. For instance, some take the Greek word at face value and assume that “meta” + “physics” pertains to what is beyond physical experience. Metaphysics, in this sense, concerns the supra-sensible and ethereal whimsy. According to this view, metaphysics involves developing a system outside verification by, or exemplification in, experience.

In contrast to supra-sensible, ethereal metaphysics, the scheme I present accounts for concrete life experiences. It considers the shared characteristics of all experience, and my scheme ties its speculations to empirical roots. One might characterize the metaphysics that I suggest as empirically oriented.

Others suspicious of metaphysics join Soren Kierkegaard and Jacques Derrida in rejecting what might be called “a metaphysics of finality.” Kierkegaard rejected the assumption that one could arrive at a final system to explain everything for all time.[3] Derrida also rejects the assumption of finality and labels it a “metaphysics of closure.”[4] Today, critics call this finality a “closed system” to emphasize its pretentious claim to need no further adjustment to its account of reality.

In contrast to a metaphysics of finality, the scheme I present recognizes that metaphysical hypotheses are always amenable to adjustment in light of experience. I agree with the metaphysician Alfred North Whitehead when he states that in metaphysics, “the merest hint of dogmatic certainty as to finality of statement is an exhibition of folly.”[5] One might characterize the metaphysics I suggest as provisional.

A third reason metaphysics has fallen on hard times is that many classical systems fail to account for a wide variety of experiences. The makers of these schemes typically ignored the experiences of females, ethnic minorities, the marginalized, and non-humans. Consequently, some today equate metaphysics with patriarchal, ethnocentric, hierarchical, or anthropocentric oppression.

In contrast to a metaphysics built upon a narrow range of data, the scheme I suggest attempts to account adequately for the widest variety of experience. One test for its adequacy is its ability to account for both occasional and widespread events. It seems probable that if we consider the widest range of experience we are less likely to oppress others than if we adopt no explicit metaphysical scheme whatsoever. One might characterize the metaphysics that I suggest as intentionally inclusive.

Fourth, some have identified metaphysics with a series of true propositions about the world deduced from premises known with absolute certainty. Rightly or wrongly, Rene Descartes’ certainty about his own cognition leads some to assume that metaphysics extrapolates a comprehensive view of reality from indubitable bases. Today, many call this epistemic assumption “foundationalist.”

In contrast to foundationalism, this metaphysics denies that any creature possesses an indisputable basis from which to describe reality inerrantly.[6] Whitehead’s thoughts are also worth noting on this point: “Philosophy has been haunted by the unfortunate notion that its method is dogmatically to indicate premises which are severally clear, distinct, and certain; and to erect upon those premises a deductive system of thought . . . [However,] there are no precisely stated axiomatic certainties from which to start.”[7] One might characterize the metaphysics I suggest as speculative.

Finally, some object to metaphysics because of its identification with popular spiritualist or psychic types of thinking. If you walked into a Borders bookstore and asked for the metaphysics section, they would direct you to books on magic, fantasy, witchcraft, and New Age.

While these books point to types of experience that must be given a scientific account, what I mean by metaphysics is not directly concerned with fairy tales and magic. Rather than concerned with the incredible, one might characterize this metaphysics as aspiring to the most plausible.

The foregoing identifies some methodological features of the metaphysics that I proffer. To review, I assume that metaphysics should entail a comprehensive proposal for how things work that is empirically-oriented, provisional, intentionally inclusive, speculative, and aspiring toward greatest plausibility. I add to this line-up some additional features. Metaphysician William Hasker identifies these features well as the attempts to attain “factual adequacy,”[8] “logical consistency,” and “explanatory power.”[9]

A Love-and-Science Metaphysics

I turn now to a brief account of some general features of a metaphysics that I believe is most adequate for the love-and-science symbiosis. I call this a relational metaphysics, and I draw from a variety of philosophical traditions when constructing it.

Phenomenology, in the philosophical tradition of Edmund Husserl, provides a beginning point for this metaphysical endeavor. Although a variety of phenomenological philosophies exist, each shares the basic concern of describing the phenomena of existence. Descriptions emerge from intuitions that are, as Husserl puts it, “simply to be accepted as [an object] gives itself out to be.”[10] This acceptance does not mean that the things perceived are immune from further analysis. Nor does it mean that these perceptions contain the whole truth of the things apprehended. Rather, the phenomenological tradition reminds us that metaphysics must remain tied to our perceptions of the actual world – even if these perceptions are partly flawed.

Pragmatism’s chief insights should also be incorporated into a metaphysics adequate for the love-and-science symbiosis. One of its important insights is that our actions reveal general principles of reality. To say it another way, our actions demonstrate that we all suppose reality to be of a certain nature, even if we may sometimes verbally state otherwise. Pragmatist C. S. Peirce calls the principles of reality underlying our actions “functionally indubitable.” David Ray Griffin refers to them as “hard-core commonsense notions.” [11] In short, we all inevitably act in accord with these principles of existence. An adequate metaphysics must not only avoid proposing hypotheses that contradict the way we inevitably act, but it may also speculate about the identity of these functionally indubitable principles.

A phenomenological account of existence combined with pragmatism’s focus upon actions that reveal fundamental principles provide modes by which to proceed when considering a metaphysics for the love-and-science symbiosis. These philosophical traditions also undergird the love definition that informs the relational metaphysics that I propose.

I define love in this way: To love is to act intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (including God), to attain overall well-being. (Repeat) Loving acts are influenced by previous actions and executed in the hope of securing the common good. I believe that this definition best corresponds to our intuitions, experiences, and carefully considered concepts of love.[12] It also corresponds well with what Stephen G. Post calls “unlimited love.”[13]

The definition I offer suggests that a metaphysics adequate for the love-and-science symbiosis must account for various elements necessary for expressions of love. I call these the metaphysical love requisites, and in the remainder of this paper, I explore them.

1. Actual Individuals in Relation. The first requirement for love to be expressed is that individuals exist and be in relation. Love requires actual relations, and relations require more than one entity. To put it in terms that philosopher Martin Buber made famous, love requires an I-Thou relationship.[14] Or, as theologian Daniel Day Williams puts it, love requires “individuality in relation.”[15] Love is not possible for absolutely one; love requires at least two, although individuals typically love in the presence of countless others. Completely isolated individuals (if such existed) cannot love.[16] To love and be loved require relatedness.

Love not only requires relations between two individuals, it also requires that individuals be, to some degree, mutually influencing. Present individuals are internally related to what has happened in the past, because the past influences those who, moment-by-moment, establish their identities. Present individuals will be externally related to those who will arise in the future. As ecological philosophers have been insisting, interdependence within an environment is essential to what it means for an actual individual to be.

In my definition of love, the phrases, “loving acts are influenced by previous actions and executed in the hope of securing the common good,” are meant to account for this interrelatedness. One’s love always represents a response to the influence of others – whether those others are human, nonhuman, or divine. And loving acts have the common good in mind, because, as theologian Edward Collins Vacek puts it, “love tries to enhance the well-being of the beloved, and it does so not only in the short term and for this or that person but in the long run for as many persons.”[17]

Metaphysician Emmanuel Levinas, among other Continentalist philosophers, stresses the importance of recognizing the one to whom lovers relate as truly other (to accentuate this essential transcendence, he capitalizes “Other”).[18] “Metaphysics is enacted where the social relation is enacted,” he states matter-of-factly.[19] In his later writings, Levinas views love as reaching out toward the other – in a non-totalizing fashion – with the future of their relation in mind. Levinas puts it this way, “Transcendence, the for the Other, the goodness correlative of the face, founds a more profound relation: the goodness of goodness.”[20]

In this relational metaphysics, the necessity of relations with others does not exclude the possibility of love for oneself. The love of oneself is either (1) action promoting the well-being of the members of one’s own body, or (2) action promoting well-being done in appreciation of one’s past personal interaction with others, or (3) action promoting our future well-being – the self we will be – when expecting to interact with others in the future. All of these actions to love oneself involve relations with those who have come before.

Attaining greater overall well-being often, but not always, includes attaining greater well-being for oneself. Here the interrelatedness of existence is expressed in essential reciprocity. Environmental philosophers have suggested that in a cosmos of interrelated entities, each one’s fulfillment connects with the fulfillment of others. The loving action done to attain greater overall well-being often results in the lover enjoying the benefits secured for all.[21] Jesus of Nazareth expressed this concept when he urged his listeners, “give and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back” (Lk. 6:38). Love need not always be self-sacrificial.

Sometimes, however, one may love at one’s own personal expense. The author of First John in the Christian scriptures puts it this way: “We know love by this, that [Jesus] laid down his life for us -- and we ought to lay down our lives for one another” (1 Jn. 3:16). Various religious traditions express this altruistic principle in other ways. What these religions share is the belief that sometimes creatures must sacrifice their own well-being for the good of the whole. This idea of self-sacrifice has generated a debate about the meaning, extent, and impetus of altruism among all organisms. However, because of the cost to a lover’s own well-being, altruistic love is often highly admirable.

2. Power for Agency and Freedom. The second requisite for love is that a degree of power be present in individuals. To love is to act, and power is necessary for any action. Without power, nothing can be expressed, thought, believed, spoken, hated, felt, grasped, sensed, or, to encompass all these, experienced. If there is no power, expressions of love cannot be present. The role of power in my definition of love is found in the fact that individuals require power if love involves intentional action.

Philosophies of creativity provide categories upon which this relational metaphysics might draw to formulate its concept of power. “Creativity” is the technical word describing the underlying power manifest in the sheer ongoingness of space-time. Contemporary Eastern philosophers have portrayed this sense of sheer power as “pure energy.” Philosopher of nature Henri Bergson calls creativity, “reality itself.” Creativity is not an actual object; it is the power of causation expressed in all actual objects.

Perhaps the fullest explanation of creativity as power comes from process philosopher Alfred North Whitehead. According to him, “Creativity is the principle of novelty. . . . The creative advance is the application of this ultimate principle of creativity to each novel situation which it originates. . . . The many become one, and are increased by one.”[22]) With regards to love, creativity is love’s underlying power.

Power also provides the basis for talking about freedom in love. I define freedom as a choice one makes that is not entirely dependent upon external conditions that make it the case that one cannot do otherwise. Many Existentialist philosophers, notably John Paul Sartre, have stressed the ultimacy of this notion of freedom. And many in the science-and-religion dialogue contend that love is meaningless if individuals are not free. The commonsense notion that love cannot be coerced – in the sense of unilaterally determined – indicates the necessary role of an individual’s self-determination. In short, because love requires self-determination and power makes self-determination possible, love requires power.

The claim that love requires intentional action and, therefore, freedom leads to important questions about creaturely mentality, consciousness, and self-determination. Some in the science-and-religion dialogue suggest the evolutionary process led to the emergence of mentality, consciousness, and freedom in only the more complex species.

Others suggest that all existing species – from the largest and most complex to the smallest and simple – have some degree of mentality and self-determination. This second hypothesis suggests that consciousness is the only wholly emergent phenomenon of the three. Further scientific research may provide evidence to sway the majority of scholars to adopt one explanatory hypothesis over the other.

3. Value-Laden Possibilities. A third requirement for love is that a set of genuine possibilities be available from which actors choose when responding. Unless possibilities that take the shape of propositions for action are present, love cannot be expressed. Because of these possibilities, which arise from the influence of previous individuals and the previous action of the individual in question, actors choose among real options when attempting to love. Love requires that existence possesses genuine value.

We all suppose that some things are better than others. And the best actions done to enhance well-being are those that we typically identify as loving. The possibilities that love requires provide the context and means for affirming that love is a value-laden activity. Or, as Williams puts it, love “is not formless.”[23] Values pertain to that which we appraise as morally better or worse, more or less beautiful, more or less truthful, etc. To love is to actualize a possibility, within the range of what is possible, that secures a degree of overall well-being greater than would have been secured had another possibility been actualized. When an individual actualizes one of the preeminent possibilities presented in a given situation, that individual loves.

Of course, a variety of philosophical traditions have championed the role of values for understanding existence. The influence of Plato is pervasive in this regard.[24] The contemporary Personalist philosophical tradition also provides sophisticated reflection upon the role of values in metaphysics. Early in the twentieth century, Personalists were interested in values mainly as they pertain to humans. In recent decades, however, Personalists have argued that nonhuman interactions express value as well. Frederick Ferre, for example, calls his value-affirming metaphysics, “Personalistic Organicism,” and he argues, “the whole domain of actuality is a pulsing field of achieved and achieving value.”[25] It is only in what he calls a “Kalogenetic Universe” – a universe in which all existing things are intrinsically valuable – that one can meaningfully account for Valued Possibilities as fundamental to love. The person whose 20th century work is perhaps more important for the science-and-love symbiosis than any other, Pitirim Sorokin, also provides resources and a metaphysical vision for affirming the necessary role of values.[26]

The fact that love requires possibilities is also important for understanding freedom as inherent in love. I have argued previously that power partially accounts for origination of free choice. But the necessary role of possibilities also partially accounts for freedom. If prior conditions external to the actor were to leave it only one possibility, that individual would not be free. Freedom to love requires that a range of possibilities be available.

This relational metaphysics considers the freedom of individuals to be limited.[27] Freedom does not involve total spontaneity and completely random choice; rather, concrete circumstances limit what is genuinely possible. As Williams puts it, “freedom is never absent from love, neither is it ever unconditional freedom.”[28] Possibilities arise out of a context and a history. And those possibilities are laden with values necessary for assessing how one’s free decisions are loving. Freedom to love includes being impelled to choose between a limited number of possibilities that pertain to the chooser’s immediate context.

4. An Active and Relational Deity. The fourth requisite for love is the influence of an active and relational deity. An analysis of love is incomplete without reference to divine influence. At this point, I part with those who affirm the superiority of a nontheistic metaphysics.

In order to attain a high degree of well-being, a comprehensive vision of something better, an agent who entertains that vision, and that agent calling upon creatures to enact the vision are all necessary. An active and relational deity is such an agent possessing this vision. Power as such cannot be the ground of this vision, because power is neutral as to value. Furthermore, power is not an actuality, so it cannot act. Creatures also cannot be the basis for something better, because, as localized individuals, their vision is limited and their actions are often errant. Creatures cannot adequately envision overall well-being, because their points of view are limited. In order for creatures to express unlimited love, they need access to one with an unlimited perspective. In addition, creaturely limitations and errors, whether voluntary or involuntary, often result in ill-being. Finally, the value-laden possibilities cannot themselves guide lovers, because possibilities are not actual individuals. And like power, the possibilities themselves cannot act because, although real, they are not actual existents.

An adequate metaphysics of love requires the existence of an active and relational deity who is omnipresent. Only an omnipresent individual can have the knowledge (omniscience) required to guide individuals with limited perspectives to secure overall well-being. Localized individuals possess limited perception and the limited knowledge that accompanies such perception. And these limitations prevent creatures from possessing a vision large enough to judge what the common good requires.

In light of these considerations, it becomes apparent that love as the attainment of greater overall well-being requires something more. I submit that creaturely love requires divine activity as its inspiration. And not just any vision of deity will do. An adequate explanation of love requires that an active and relational God exist. A God whose nature includes love as an essential property and who sees all possibilities entertains a vision of something better. God not only entertains that vision but also, in acting in love, inspires love among creatures. When we respond appropriately to divine inspiration, we love. Because of this love synergism, my affirmation that God exists is neither an ad hoc addition included as an afterthought nor the sum total of all that must be said about love.

In the relational metaphysics that I propose, God is not an exception to the necessary categories for love. God’s loving activity also requires power, possibilities, the existence of other individuals, and, of course, God’s own existence. Divine love requires power so that God may act to attain greater degrees of overall well-being. Divine love requires that God envision possibilities that both divine and nondivine individuals can actualize. And God requires nondivine others for love relations to be established. The fact that God necessarily relates with others does not mean that God depends upon others to exist. Rather, deity necessarily exists. There was no force, power, nor individual that originally created God. And God cannot be destroyed by anyone. The fact that God exists is fully independent of any finite occurrence.

While no philosophical tradition has the inside scoop on God, some traditions are more helpful than others. Those traditions that present God as genuinely open and related to, while active in, the universe are most helpful for the love-and-science symbiosis. Such a God is the ground of each creature’s moment-by-moment existing, and God’s activity calls each creature to love. These calls take into account all genuine possibilities for action, including those in which love can be expressed. Having surveyed what is possible, God calls each individual to actualize the option whose effects will likely attain the highest degree of well-being truly possible to be attained in that moment in light of the possible future.[29]

The line in my definition of love, “in sympathetic response to the actions of others (including God),” provides the conceptual home for the claim that love requires divine action. Creatures require an omnipresent agent whose omniscience includes envisioning all possibilities for action and to whose actions they might respond sympathetically in ways that secure the common good. This sympathy occurs as creatures perceive God through their nonsensory perception, because an incorporeal actuality – like a mind – apparently cannot be perceived by our five senses.

In terms of love, highly complex individuals have the capacity to love, and their loving actions will affect others to some degree or another. As was pointed out earlier, this relational metaphysics adopts the hypothesis that all individuals are necessarily affected by others and necessarily affect others. These two notions can be articulated in terms of efficient and final causation. Creatures express final causation, understood as the freedom of self-determination, and exert efficient causation, understood as the effects of their free actions upon others who will subsequently exist.

For one to account adequately for divine love as pervasive and relentless, God must be considered unable to squelch entirely the freedom of finite individuals. Couched in the terms of causation, God cannot be the sufficient cause of creaturely acts if creatures are truly free. A sufficient cause is a condition that entirely guarantees the effect. I argue, however, that God is a necessary cause for every creaturely free act. A necessary cause is a condition without which an effect cannot occur. Supposing that God is unable to act as a sufficient cause allows one to avoid the negative consequences inherent in affirming divine unilateral determination. The problem of evil arises if God possesses the capacity to determine creatures unilaterally. If God can act as a sufficient cause, God is culpable for not having prevented genuine evils that occur in our world. And if God is culpable for genuine evil, God is not love. Because of this, I deny that God can unilaterally determine creatures.[30]

The causal scheme for love sketched out here bears resemblance to what eighteenth-century theologian John Wesley called “preventing” or “prevenient” grace.[31] Like Wesley, I suggest that God initiates relationships with creatures. In my conception of prevenient grace, however, God necessarily relates with creatures by initiating each moment of their lives. God also presents value-laden possibilities to creatures capable of loving, and God calls these creatures to actualize the love possibilities offered instead of those possibilities available that will not increase the common good.

Prevenient grace as a moment-by-moment gift begins when God acts. God’s actions take into account the previous actions by all other creatures. And God’s actions provide to each creature a range of value-laden possibilities for response. Divine action includes presenting possibilities to each individual that are relevant for each individual in each moment. Those possibilities that reflect the enhancement of overall well-being reflect God’s will for how each individual may love. God acts so that the ideal possibilities for each individual will have the maximum chance for implementation. But increased well-being is not guaranteed, because (1) creatures may freely choose an available possibility made possible by previous creaturely acts that have generated ill-being, and (2) God does not coerce individuals to select what is ideal.

Creatures subsequently feel God’s prevenient action as an efficient cause that furnishes for them options for their own self-determination. In this way, divine action becomes the efficient cause of prevenient grace upon others who, in response, express final causation. The creaturely response to divine prevenient grace in turn furnishes elements for God’s own next moment of decision in the divine life. We can love because God loves us, and God’s love is fully sensitive to the world in which we live. Or as the Christian biblical writer John would say it, "we love because He first loved us" (1 Jn. 4:19).

Prevenient grace also refers to the idea that deity establishes the basis for free creaturely responses. One of this doctrine’s advantages is that it allows one to insist coherently that God reveals Godself to every individual without also requiring that this divine self-disclosure entail unilateral determination. In other words, the doctrine of prevenient grace implies that God’s loving activity in establishing relationships is non-coercive. God’s prevenient provision of the power for freedom to every creature in every world derives from God’s very essence. Of course, claiming that God’s relatedness with some world or another is an aspect of the divine essence implies various metaphysical principles. Because God necessarily provides freedom to all individuals as God essentially relates to the world, it makes no sense to suggest that God could fail to provide freedom to creatures. In other words, prevenient grace as I understand it entails that God cannot withdraw, fail to offer, or override the power for freedom that creatures require in their moment-by-moment life decisions.[32]

This doctrine of prevenient grace that I suggest also accounts for the belief that all life depends upon God. It does so by entailing that God acts first to establish the conditions of every individual’s moment-by-moment existence. Various Christian theories of divine providence and creation express this creaturely dependence upon God. For instance, Friedrich Schleiermacher calls this dependence, “utter,” and he rightfully argues that Christian piety originates from the feeling of being utterly dependent upon God.[33] And of course, this dependence entails that creatures require divine action not only to receive value-laden possibilities for action and the freedom to act, they depend upon deity for life itself.

Finally, I should point out that to argue that a metaphysics adequate for the love-and-science symbiosis requires an active and relational God does not imply that those who do not believe that God exists cannot love. One may be inspired to love even though not conscious of the impetus of that inspiration.

Atheists, agnostics, and those of nontheistic religious traditions may join theists in recognizing and promoting the primacy of love. Of course, theists will differ from these as to love’s explanation and inspiration, and theists will likely believe firmly that this difference is highly significant. But varying visions of the Holy, while extremely significant and well worth discussing, need not be seen as the litmus test for who can and who cannot express love. It may be, however, that some visions more adequately explain the phenomena of life, provide a better basis for its purpose and meaning, and empower us to love more often.

Conclusion

I have argued that a relational metaphysics can help the love-and-science symbiosis as its participants propose theories to explain the meta issues that inevitably arise in this field. The relational metaphysics that I suggest evades or overcomes legitimate objections to metaphysics that some have voiced in recent days. It draws upon a wide array of philosophical traditions for its hypotheses about the way things work. I have defined love as an intentional act, in sympathetic response to others (including God), to attain overall well-being. An analysis of love suggests to me that an explanation of love requires at least four categories: actual individuals in relation, power for agency, value-laden possibilities, and an active and relational God. I suggest that God preveniently graces creatures by offering possibilities for free response. When creatures respond appropriately to divine love, they express love.

For more from the author Thomas Jay Oord, see his website https://thomasjayoord.com or the Center for Open and Relational Theology https://c4ort.com

Notes

  1. A convincing argument for the necessity of metaphysics for science is Michael T Ghiselin’s book, Metaphysics and the Origin of Species (Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1997).

  2. Jean-Francios Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, in From Modernism to Postmodernism: An Anthology, Lawrence Cahoone, ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996), 482.

  3. See, for instance, Soren Kierkegaard, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, trans. Howard V. and Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 107. Georg W.F. Hegel’s influential writing in this vein is The Philosophy of History, trans. J. Sibree (Buffalo, N.Y.: Prometheus Books, 1991).

  4. One of Derrida’s essays displaying his disdain for a metaphysics of finality is titled “Violence and Metaphysics: Essays on the Thought of Emmanual Levinas” (“Violence et metaphysique, essai sur la pensee d’Emmanuel Levinas,” Revue de Metaphysique et de Morale, 69 [1964], no.3, pp. 322-54; no. 4, pp. 425-73).

  5. Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology, corrected edition, David Ray Griffin and Donald W. Sherburne, eds. (New York: The Free Press, 1978), xiv.

  6. Richard Rorty rejects realism when understood as indisputable access to reality, and he also believes this claim to be tied directly to foundationalism. “The Priority of Democracy to Philosophy” Philosophical Papers I (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).

  7. Whitehead, Process and Reality, 8, 13.

  8. Charles Hartshorne says of the fundamental features of an adequate metaphysics that “no experience can contradict them” and “any experience must illustrate them” (The Logic of Perfection and Other Essays in Neoclassical Metaphysics [LaSalle, Ill.: Open Court, 1962], 285).

  9. William Hasker, Metaphysics: Constructing a World View (Downers Grove, Ill.: Intervarsity Press, 1983), 26.

  10. Quoted in the explanation of phenomenology, The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy, ed. Robert Audi (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 579.

  11. See, among many other his writings that refer to this concept, “Postmodern Theology and A/Theology: A Response to Mark C. Taylor,” in Varieties of Postmodernism, Griffin, et. al., eds. (Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1989).

  12. In this sense, it also corresponds with the chief insights of phenomenology and pragmatism just mentioned. Perhaps the most detailed philosophical analysis of love is found in Robert G. Hazo’s, The Idea of Love (New York: Praeger, 1967).

  13. See Post’s work, Unlimited Love: Altruism, Compassion, and Service (Philadelphia; Templeton Press, 2003).

  14. See Martin Buber, I and Thou, trans. Ronald Gregor Smith, 2nd ed. (New York: Scribner’s, 1958). Emmanuel Levinas expresses well the importance of the other in Existence and Existents, trans. A. Lingis (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1978). See also, Sean Hand, ed., The Levinas Reader: Emmanuel Levinas (Oxford: Blackwell, 1989).

  15. Williams, The Spirit and the Forms of Love (New York: Harper and Row, 1969), 126.

  16. Holmes Rolston, III, puts it succinctly: “Nothing lives alone” (Genes, Genesis, and God: Values and Their Origins in Natural and Human History [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999], 86).

  17. Vacek, Love, Human and Divine, 182.

  18. Levinas uses “love” (l’amour) in differing ways. Early on, it is nearly synonymous with Platonic eros. Later, however, he views love as having two aspects: love as ethical transcendence and as desire. For an excellent analysis of Levinasian love and metaphysics, see Stella Sanford, The Metaphysics of Love: Gender and Transcendence in Levinas (London: Athlone, 2000).

  19. Emmanual Levinas, Totality and Infinity: An Essay on Exteriority, trans. A. Lingis (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1992), 78.

  20. Ibid., 269.

  21. For recent scientific research on the relatedness and mutuality of organisms, see Lee Alan Dugatkin’s work, especially Cooperation Among Animals: An Evolutionary Perspective (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997).

  22. Whitehead, Process and Reality, 26.

  23. Williams, The Spirit and the Forms of Love, 42.

  24. Whitehead’s oft-quoted remark comes to mind: "The safest generalization that can be made about the history of western philosophy is that it is all a series of footnotes to Plato." A recent examination of value that reveals indebtedness to Plato is Robert Merrihew Adams’s, Finite and Infinite Goods (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999).

  25. Frederick Ferre, Being and Value: Toward a Constructive Postmodern Metaphysics (State University of New York Press, 1996), 373.

  26. Sorokin’s scientific interest was sociology, but he was a committed metaphysician. He, like others in the Russian philosophical tradition that influenced him, called his metaphysics, “integral knowledge.” Sorokin’s classic work on love is The Ways and Power of Love: Types, Factors, and Techniques of Moral Transformation (Radnor, Penn.: Templeton Foundation Press, 2002 [Beacon, 1954]).

  27. For a convincing and sustained argument for libertarian freedom, see Robert Kane, The Significance of Free Will (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998).

  28. Williams, The Spirit and Forms of Love, 116.

  29. The emphasis upon one or more possibilities being better than others is brought out well by John B. Cobb, Jr., in, A Christian Natural Theology: Based on the Thought of Alfred North Whitehead (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1965).

  30. I argue this point more fully in “A Process Wesleyan Theodicy,” in Thy Nature and Thy Name is Love: Wesleyan and Process Theologies in Dialogue, Bryan P. Stone and Thomas Jay Oord, eds. (Nashville: Kingswood, 2001). The argument that God cannot unilaterally determine is the heart of various process theodicies.

  31. The Wesleyan theological tradition has sometimes referred to prevenient grace as the impetus of divine-human “synergism,” as “cooperative grace,” or even as “responsible grace” (See Randy L. Maddox, Responsible Grace: John Wesley’s Practical Theology (Nashville, Tenn.: Kingswood, 1994).

  32. I have worked this out most fully in a recent article, “Evil, Providence, and a Relational God,” Quarterly Review (23:3 [Fall 2003]: 238-2501).

  33. Friedrich Schleiermacher, The Christian Faith (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1989 [2nd Ed., 1830]). The translation of schlechthinig as “utter” is my own, but this translation is not unique to me.

A Relational God and Unlimited Love

Love and agape are words with multiple meanings. We may say, for instance, that we love our country, local sports team, pepperoni pizza, spouse, or favorite movies. The fact that people talk of love in such varied ways prompted Sigmund Freud to say, “‘love’ is employed in language” in an “undifferentiated way.”[1] Theologian Mildred Bangs Wynkoop concurs, saying that love is a multifarious “weasel-word.”[2]

In various venues and publications, I have offered and defended a definition meant to add clarity to the confusion about how best to understand love.[3] I define love as acting intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (including God), to promote overall well-being. Loving actions are influenced by the previous actions of other creatures, oneself, and God, and these actions are carried out in the hope of encouraging flourishing.

A full explanation of each phrase in my definition of love lies beyond the scope of this essay, but to prepare us for what I want to address later, I should briefly describe here what each phrase in the definition entails. The phrase, “acting intentionally,” refers to the deliberateness, motive, and self-determination inherent in love. Love entails a degree of decisionality, limited freedom, and one’s intentions not an acts consequences are love’s primary measure.

I use the word “act” to cover a broad range of intended activities, both seen and unseen. “In sympathetic response to others (including God)” refers to the relatedness that love requires. While sympathetic response logically precedes the intentionality of love, both are present in a single responsive act of love. The “others” include humans, nonhumans, and the past actions of the lover. I will explain more about what the parenthetical statement “including God” entails later in this essay.

The final phrase, “to promote overall well-being,” points to the health, happiness, wholeness, blessedness, or flourishing that love advances. Jesus called well-being, “abundant life,” and Aristotle called it, “eudaimonia.” The qualifier “overall” refers to my claim that although we often love with a few recipients or a narrow context in mind, our actions should not be deemed loving if they obviously undermine the common good. Justice is an element of love.

While few people are surprised to hear that the word love carries various meanings in the English language, few seem aware that agape has been given a wide range of definitions. In general, agape is used to distinguish one particular notion of love from others. Those aligned with the Christian tradition are especially prone to afford agape privileged status or consider it to have special meaning.

I have shown in detail in other writings that the meanings scholars afford agape vary greatly. And these meanings are not always compatible. I have examined sixteen definitions of agape offered by scholars such as Colin Grant, Timothy Jackson, Martin Luther King, Jr., John Macquarrie, Reinhold Niebuhr, Gene Outka, Irving Singer, Alan Soble, and Daniel Day Williams. My examination shows the truth of Robert Adams’ statement: “agape is a blank canvas on which one can paint whatever ideal of Christian love one favors.”[4] The reasons for this variance have a great deal to do with the theological, ethical, anthropological, scientific, and metaphysical commitments of those who use agape to identify something they regard as unique about this form of love compared with others.

In this essay, I explore one particular meaning given agape. This meaning is apparent in the agape definition of Martin Luther King, Jr., as “good will for all men.”[5] Others have defined agape similarly as “unlimited love.”[6] The basic claim of these definitions agape should not be restricted only to a few, and I would argue that love should be extended also to nonhumans. Although this definition of agape is not one I personally prefer,[7] it identifies something that I propose is an essential element of love in general: love increases overall well-being. Agape when equated with unlimited love leads many to wonder, Can we really act in ways that promote overall well-being? Or are limited creatures restricted to expressing limited love? In this essay, I offer a doctrine of God meant to support the claim that creatures sometimes promote overall well-being or, what some call, unlimited love.

Love’s Extensivity

Scientific research provides evidence that at least some humans – and apparently some nonhumans – express love. Studies in fields such as psychology, sociology, primatology, animal behavior studies, neurology, and biology suggest that creatures act in ways that promote well-being. And sometimes the primary motive of creatures is to enhance the well-being of others.

Sociobiologists argue that kin selection, reciprocal altruism, and other theories generally explain altruistic action insofar as organisms act for the good of those near and dear. Those expected to reciprocate some good deed and those genetically similar to the altruist are candidates for altruistic love. Group-selection theory suggests, furthermore, that altruists may assist those with a different genetic lineage and those unable to reciprocate one’s love. Altruists may gather into groups, and evolution favors groups whose members act for the good of fellow members. Groups comprised of altruists flourish when competing with groups comprised of egoists.

Prominent theories in sociobiology cannot account well, however, for instances in which individuals act altruistically for the good of outsiders and opposition groups. Group-selection advocates, Elliot Sober and David Sloan Wilson, admit, “Group selection favors within group niceness and between group nastiness.”[8] Strangers and enemies are not loved.

Wilson extends the group-selection hypothesis as an explanation for religion. Religious groups are “rapidly evolving entities adapting to their current environments,” says Wilson.[9] These entities have moral systems that define appropriate behaviors for their members and prevent subversion from within. In particular, says Wilson, “a religion instructs believers to behave for the benefit of their group.”[10] Judaism, early Christianity, and Calvinism are examples of religious groups whose beliefs and rules benefit members and allow these groups to out-compete other groups. Religions that promote intra-member cooperation survive and reproduce better than competitors whose members do not cooperate. But religious groups do not promote well what Wilson calls, “universal brotherhood.”[11] Religions seek only to benefit faithful members.

The work of sociobiologists is insightful and the group-selection hypothesis instructive. However, these theories do not elucidate the drive to promote overall well-being, which includes love for outsiders and enemies. They do not endorse agape, at least when defined as unlimited love. Loving these “unlovables” is an ethic commanded by at least some religious traditions and Christianity in particular. And loving enemies and strangers is apparently put into practice at least some of the time. Many people would argue that such overall well-being must be promoted if interpersonal, inter-tribal, and inter-religious hostilities are overcome. In the end, we need a theory to account both for the truth that altruism can benefit those near and dear and those in one’s group as well as the truth that sometimes creatures act to benefit outsiders and enemies. We need a theory that conceptualizes the reality of unlimited love.

It is common for religious people to turn to theology for an explanation of unlimited love. One theory for why at least some humans can love all others says that God provides unnatural – or supernatural – power to enable love of outsiders and enemies. In their natural state, humans only promote their own well-being and the well-being of those near and dear. Proponents of this view say that science explains natural love, but God supernaturally empowers at least some to go above and beyond nature. Often part of this theory is the notion that creatures naturally express eros but require divine action to express agape.

Theologian Martin C. D’Arcy articulates the theory that creatures naturally love those near and dear but need supernatural help to love outsiders and enemies. “We can advance a high theory of love by making full use of natural love,” says D’Arcy, “but the keynote of it will always be possessiveness. Our neighbors will be loved like to ourselves; they will be as it were another self…. In Christian Agape the complete revelation of love is given. Here the finite is lifted to a new degree of being, whose limit is measured only by the necessity of its remaining a human person. This new life which is thus set going is a pure gift and beyond the natural capacity of the finite human person.”[12]

The natural/supernatural scheme that D’Arcy and like-minded theologians advocate presents several conceptual problems. It suggests, for instance, that important aspects of creaturely love can be adequately understood without any reference to God. Divine inspiration is only necessary when nature proves insufficient to empower love of those we consider difficult. The natural/supernatural scheme is vulnerable to the God-of-the-gaps problem, whereby science is believed to explain fully all but a few occurrences. These unexplained events, says the God-of-the-gaps theory, require appeal to the mysterious workings of deity. When science provides hypotheses to explain fully what was previously inexplicable, divine action provides no explanatory role either ontologically or epistemologically. A function for the supernatural disappears.

Instead of adopting the natural/supernatural scheme in which some love can be fully explained without reference to God, I suggest that an adequate explanation of all creaturely love – including love for oneself, love for those near and dear, and love for outsiders and enemies – must include a necessary role for divine action. A God hypothesis is required to account for how limited creatures can express both limited and unlimited love. This hypothesis must include a robust role for incessant divine action rather than seeing God’s influence as an occasional add-on. Yet it must include a necessary part of the kind of scientific research on love that many find valuable.

In contrast to the natural/supernatural scheme, another theological theory suggests that only God expresses authentic love. This theory, divine unilateralism, contends that creatures cannot love at all. Any expression of genuine love we might witness is entirely an act of God, and creatures contribute nothing. Only God loves.

Anders Nygren, perhaps the 20th century’s most influential love theologian and advocate of agape, advocates divine unilateralism. Nygren contends that the only authentic love is agape, and God is the only agent who expresses agape. “The Christian has nothing of his own to give,” says Nygren. “The love which he shows his neighbor is the love which God has infused in him.”[13] He likens creatures to tubes that pass genuine love received from above to others below. The tubes/creatures do not contribute to the character or shape of this love.[14] “It is God’s own agape,” Nygren asserts, “which seeks to make its way out into the world through the Christian as its channel. What we have here is a purely theocentric love, in which all choice on man’s part is excluded.”[15]

There are many reasons to reject Nygren’s understanding of agape in general and his divine unilateralism in particular.[16] For centuries, theologians have noted that it implies absolute determinism, divine predestination, and lack of significant creaturely value. Divine unilateralism should also be rejected for what it implies about science. It denies that science tells us anything important about creaturely love. Science is superfluous; all scientific love research ultimately amounts to nothing. And divine unilateralism implies that we can skirt any responsibility to choose love, because all responsibility rests upon God.

Instead of adopting divine unilateralism, an adequate explanation of love must include a necessary role for God and creatures. Creaturely love is not the work of God alone. Creatures are not tubes, channels, or conduits through which God unilaterally acts to promote well-being. Creatures love when responding appropriately to others to promote overall well-being. An adequate hypothesis for how creatures can express limited and unlimited love must include reference to divine and creaturely agency.

A Relational God

I assume that the evidence provided by scientific research on love tells us something true about existence in general and creaturely love in particular. Now we need a God hypothesis that affirms the scientific evidence while making theological sense. It must be a God hypothesis that avoids the supernatural/natural scheme, which proposes that divine action is only sometimes necessary for love. And this hypothesis must reject divine unilateralism, which states that God is the only loving agent and the scientific enterprise ultimately pointless.

The God hypothesis provided would be especially helpful if it offered a solution to why creatures sometimes love those near and dear and sometimes love outsiders and enemies. The God hypothesis would be crucial for conceptualizing how constrained creatures might promote overall well-being. If a doctrine of God were provided that offered an empirically-oriented explanation of how limited creatures express both limited and unlimited love, a way may be found to marry theology and science in the name of love.

The attributes and activity one postulates of God, therefore, are crucial to the explanation of unlimited love one might offer. I begin by contending that love is an essential attribute of God.[17] It is necessarily the case that God acts intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (which includes past divine actions), to promote overall well-being. Loving others is not an arbitrary divine decision but an aspect of God’s eternal, unchanging nature. God cannot not love. God is love.

By suggesting that love is an essential aspect of the divine nature, however, I am not suggesting that God has no choice whatsoever with regard to love.[18] That God will love others is necessarily the case. But how God loves others is a free choice on God’s part.[19] God may choose any number of options to promote overall well-being based upon divine concerns to promote the future common good. God freely chooses the ways of love.

In ongoing love relations, we can rest assured that God will always act intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (including God’s own past actions), to promote overall well-being. This steadfast love is necessary to what it means to be divine. The fact that God loves others is an aspect of God’s unchanging, eternal essence. But the manner in which God chooses to promote overall well-being arises from how God sympathetically responds to others. There is neither a formula nor circumstances exterior to God that entirely determines what these divine choices will be. How God loves others, therefore, is a matter of the divine will.

Presupposed in the claim that freely chooses how to love others is the notion that God is a relational being. As relational, God is affected by those with whom God relates. For some time, relational theologians have rejected the idea that God is an aloof and distant monarch uninfluenced by others.[20] Instead, relational theologians affirm that God suffers and is passible, to use the classic language. This means that God is influenced by the ups and downs, joys and sorrows, sins and loves of others. God is not in all ways transcendent; God is a living God who enjoys give-and-receive relations within history. God is the best and most moved mover.[21]

Although this relational God is affected by others, we should remind ourselves again that God’s nature as love is unchanging. God’s eternal nature remains constant, which is why we can always rely upon God to love. God’s nature is love, and that nature never alters. But the particular way God loves others is influenced by the condition of the beloved. Science suggests that a creature’s own characteristics and its relations with others influence the form and extent of a creature’s love. The doctrine of God that I propose suggests that God’s own characteristics and God’s relations with others influence the form and extent of divine love.

God is always present to all creatures, and God’s omnipresence plays a crucial role for understanding divine action in relation to creation. In fact, divine omnipresence provides empirical grounds for hypotheses about divine action in relation to creaturely love. An entirely transcendent God, who exists above all time and space, would not be an agent whose influence we should consider in our empirical accounts of existence. The vision of God I am proposing, by contrast, is of a deity whose immanent influence should be considered a crucial and necessary factor when attempting a comprehensive account of creation.

With the exception of divine love, omnipresence may be the divine attribute that theologians least emphasize. By omnipresence, I mean that God is present to all things. Nothing exists that is not graced by divinity.[22] Or as theologian John Wesley put it, “the universal God dwelleth in universal space.”[23] We might say that God is omni-immanent, so long as we do not regard omni-immanence as negating divine transcendence altogether. To say that God is omnipresent does not require one to say that all things are divine, however. Distinctions between creation and Creator remain.

For some time, many philosophers and theologians have called the omnipresent God, “the Soul of the universe.” If one understands a soul to be present to and influencing all parts of one’s body, the label is appropriate. Instead of referring to God as the Soul of the universe, however, some today adopt the label “panentheism” to emphasize God’s immanent omnipresence without denying divine transcendence.[24] God penetrates the entire universe, but the divine being is not identical to or exhausted by the universe. God is distinct from others, having God’s own essence, constitution, and agency. Elsewhere, I have also suggested that “theocosmocentrism” might be a helpful label to identify God as intimately and everlastingly present to all in the cosmos.[25]

God is not only present to all things, but God enters moment-by-moment into give-and-receive interaction with others. In this interaction, God is omni-relational. God acts in relation to others both as the Ideal Recipient and the Ideal Contributor. As the omnipresent Ideal Recipient, God takes in the experiences of all others. God does so not by looking at creation from a distance, as if a spectator on the sidelines who only occasionally gets in the game. Rather God is present to all things, all the time, and God experiences the experiences of others. Because God is the all-embracing one who sympathizes fully with all others, God possesses the capacity to assess flawlessly what is required to promote overall well-being at any particular moment in any particular place. God’s omnipresence sustains God’s omniscience and contributes in important ways to God’s love.

God not only loves incessantly and by virtue of divine omnipresence loves all others, God also calls creatures – both human and nonhuman – to promote overall well-being. God is the Ideal Contributor. This contributory call entails empowering and inspiring creatures to love given the capacities of each creature.[26] All feel God’s direct, causal call.

The call to love that God gives each creature is, in one sense, no different from the causal influence that other creatures exert. In a universe of cause and effect, divine efficient causation is a cause of the same metaphysical kind as creaturely causes. No appeal to mysterious divine action is necessary. Special pleas to inexplicable supernaturalism are not required. God’s influence upon creatures breaks no theoretical principles pertaining to the metaphysical laws that apply to all existents. Whitehead’s plea that God not be treated as an exception to the metaphysical principles is heeded. This is the empirical key to identifying divine action in the world.

If God exerts causal influence as an efficient cause and relationally assesses the states of all others, God must possess both physical and mental aspects. To say that God has a physical aspect that exerts causal influence need not conflict with the claim made by most theistic religions that God is a spirit. It does conflict, however, with the positivistic claim that the physical aspects of all beings must be perceptible by our five senses. One may affirm that a spiritual entity exists (and perhaps there are more than one), that this spiritual entity exerts efficient causation, and we perceive the influence of this entity nonsensorily. God is a spirit whose invisible physicality affects others in a way analogous to the physical influence – whether sensory or nonsensory -- that other beings exert.

Perhaps the best way to envision the constitution of the divine Spirit as including both physical and mental aspects is to compare the Spirit’s constitution to a creature’s mind. We might speculate that the divine Spirit has an element of physicality analogous to the physicality that creaturely minds possess. Just as a creature’s mind exerts causal influence upon bodily members despite its physicality remaining undetectable to our five senses, so God experts causal influence upon others despite possessing a physical dimension undetectable by sensory perception.[27]

While in some ways God’s causal influence is similar to the causal influence exerted by creatures, in other ways God’s causal call to love is different from the influence that creatures exert. Yet even in these different ways, God is not an exception to the metaphysical principles that science presupposes.

First, God’s causal call is different in that God always influences creatures to act in ways that optimize overall well-being. God’s essence is love, and this means that God loves relentlessly. God’s power invariably urges all things toward the common good. By contrast, creatures sometimes influence others to choose ill-being. All humans, at least, have sinned and fall short of God’s standard of relentless love. Whereas creatures love sporadically, God’s love is steadfast and never failing.

God’s causal influence in our cause-and-effect universe is different from other creatures, secondly, in that only God is a necessary cause in every creature’s love. Without divine influence, no creature can love. By contrast, any particular creature is a contingent cause for the love of others. No one creature’s influence is required for another creature to promote overall-well being. While divine action is required for creatures to live, and move, and have their being, creatures are, to use the words of theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher, “utterly dependent” upon God to be empowered and inspired to love.[28]

Third, God’s causal influence is different from creaturely influence in that God takes into account the influence of others and persuades each creature to respond in a way that promotes overall well-being. God presents the possible options for action to creatures, most of those options having arisen from the past actions of creatures. Divine causation inspires creatures to love given what is possible in the particular circumstances each faces.[29] Process theologians in the tradition of Whitehead have called this presentation of options a creature’s “initial aim.” This aim includes God’s call to a particular creature in a particular moment to love in a particular way. And God takes into account the influence of all others when presenting this call. Divine love is all-pervasive, optimally sensitive, and perfectly influential.

The similarities and differences between the divine agent and creaturely agents that I have briefly outlined provide the basis for overcoming the problems inherent in both the natural/supernatural and divine unilateralism schemes addressed previously. Divine causation is neither an occasional add-on nor an eclipse of creaturely causation. God’s empowering and inspiring call is required for creaturely love, and yet God does not interrupt the normal causal relations required for creatures to love. When creatures love, they synergistically act with God by responding to the divine call to promote overall well-being.

The divine/creaturely love synergism I advocate allows one to embrace what David Ray Griffin calls “variable divine influence.” God’s influence upon others, says Griffin, is always formally the same but variable in content.[30] God acts as a necessary cause to empower each creature in each moment of that creature’s life. I claim similarly that God calls each creature to act in ways that will promote overall well-being. In this, all creatures feel divine causation in the same formal way.

Divine influence, however, is variable in its content and effectiveness. The content of God’s call depends upon the particularities of each creature in each moment. Creatures are diverse, and they dwell in diverse environments. God’s specific influence upon an electron, for instance, will be different in content from God’s influence upon a worm. God’s specific call for a child will be different in content from God’s call for an adult. God’s omniscient assessment of all conditions provides God with the resources to tailor perfectly the call to love for each creature.

Divine causation is variable in its effectiveness, because creatures may respond in various ways to God’s calls. When creatures respond well, God’s activity to promote overall well-being is most effective. Because some creatures are highly complex and possess a great degree of freedom, God presents a vast array of possibilities to them in each moment. God empowers them to choose among these possibilities and inspires them to choose that which promotes overall well-being. When creatures respond appropriately to God’s calls to love, the common good increases. God acts, as John Wesley put it, by “strongly and sweetly influencing all, and yet without destroying the liberty of his rational creatures.”[31]

The variability of a call’s effectiveness is not based upon God’s decision to exert either maximal or minimal influence upon others. God’s desire for the promotion of overall well-being prompts maximum divine effort in each moment to enhance the common good. God need not be coaxed to care by the efforts of creatures, for it is by God’s steadfast, never-failing grace nature -- not by creaturely effort – that God promotes the common good. God never takes a holiday from love.

Given these hypotheses, we can now provide the answer the central question we asked early on. These hypotheses provide the basis for our explanation for how limited creatures can express unlimited love.

While the extensivity of localized creatures is necessary limited, creatures are constantly influenced by One whose awareness is universal. This omnipresent Being assesses in each moment what should be done to promote the common good. And this Being knows what each particular creature should do in any particular moment to promote over well-being. Creatures can express unlimited love, because they have access to the One with an unlimited perspective. To use the language of Pitirim Sorokin, unlimited love requires maximal extensivity.[32] Creatures with narrow sympathies and restricted extensivity are not prevented from contributing to the common good, because their maximally extensive Creator envisions the good of the whole and communicates to creatures what contribution each might make.

Most of the time, the best way for a particular creature to promote overall well-being is to act in ways that simultaneously promote the creature’s own well-being and the well-being of those near and dear. In an interrelated universe, the mutual benefit of the loving actor and others often overlaps. Sometimes the promotion of overall well-being, however, requires that the lover be self-sacrificial for the good of those near and dear. Scientific studies showing that creatures act for the good of those genetically similar to themselves or for the good of members of the same group verify this. Other times, love involves acting for one’s own well-being at the expense of the well-being of some others, because overall well-being is enhanced by this self-affirming action. Self-love that deprives resources from some others is sometimes appropriate.

My hypothesis that God’s love is all-pervasive, optimally sensitive, and perfectly influential also provides grounds to affirm that creatures sometimes act for the good of outsiders and enemies. A maximally extensive God can inspire and empower confined creatures to promote universal brotherhood. Limited creatures express unlimited love if they respond appropriately to the call of the omnipresent One who knows what the common good requires and assesses perfectly what each creature can contribute to that good. When the omnipresent God is not thought to be outside or beyond the universal laws of cause and effect, one can offer empirical grounds to hypothesize that God influences creatures in ways that encourage the enhancement of overall well-being. And when God is a necessary cause, it is plausible to speculate that creatures rely upon God’s call when choosing to love outsiders and enemies, those near and dear, and themselves. God’s influence is neither an occasional add-on required for unnatural creaturely love nor a unilateral intervention that destroys the agency of the creatures that science investigates.

To say that all creatures have access to a universal Agent who calls them to promote the common good should not be taken to imply, however, that creatures know with absolute certainty the specificity of these calls. Creaturely limitations remain. We discern God’s moment-by-moment calls in the context of a wide variety of relations, emotions, and obligations. God’s influence is part of a multi-lateral array of influences. Our ultimate justification for choosing to act in one way to express love rather than in another is the imprecise intuition that God calls us to act in such a way.

Tools and practices are available to help creatures better discern God’s call to love. Over the millennia, religious people have discovered means by which they can assess with greater accuracy – but not with absolute certainty – the call of God. Religious people improve their skills at discernment when they engage in activities such as contemplation, living in loving communities, confession, worship practices, education, meditation on sacred scriptures, and following the ways of the exemplars. Maturing in love involves honing these skills of discernment by engaging intentionally in these love-enhancing practices.

Conclusion

What is required for creaturely expressions of agape? If we follow Martin Luther King, Jr.’s definition of agape as “good will for all,” limited creatures must rely upon the empowering and inspiring call of an omnipresent God of love to express agape. After all, to love is to act intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (including God), to promote overall well-being. The loving call of an omnipresent God provides a crucial conceptual element to a scientifically and theologically adequate explanation of how creatures might express unlimited love.

For more from the author Thomas Jay Oord, see his website https://thomasjayoord.com or the Center for Open and Relational Theology https://c4ort.com

  1. Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents (New York: Random House, 1994), 49.

  2. Mildred Bangs Wynkoop, A Theology of Love: The Dynamic of Wesleyanism (Kansas City: Beacon Hill, 1972), 9.

  3. One can find more complete explanations of my definition of love in many publications, including “Divine Love” in Philosophy of Religion: Introductory Essays, Thomas Jay Oord, ed (Kansas City: Beacon Hill, 2003), “Love, Morals, and Relations in Evolutionary Theory,” in Evolutionary Ethics: Human Morality in Biological and Religious Perspective, Philip Clayton and Jeffrey Schloss, eds. (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2004), Love and Science: The Wisdom of Well-Being. Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation, 2004), “The Love Racket: Defining Love and Agape for the Love-and-Science Research Program,” Zygon 40:4 (December 2005): 919-938, and A Turn to Love: The Love, Science, and Theology Symbiosis (manuscript in preparation).

  4. Robert Merrihew Adams, Finite and Infinite Goods: A Framework for Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 136.

  5. Martin Luther King, Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr., James Washington, ed. (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1986), 19.

  6. See, for instance, Stephen G. Post, Unlimited Love: Altruism, Compassion and Service (Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation, 2003) and Sir John Templeton, Agape Love: A Tradition Found in Eight World Religions (Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation, 1999).

  7. I regard agape as one form of love, and I define it as acting intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (including God), to promote overall well-being when confronted by that which generates ill-being. Or to use the language of Jesus, agape “repays evil with good” (“The Love Racket,” 934).

  8. Unto Others, 9.

  9. David Sloan Wilson, Darwin’s Cathedral: Evolution, Religion, and the Nature of Society (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 35.

  10. Ibid., 96.

  11. Ibid., 217.

  12. M. C. D’Arcy, The Heart and Mind of Love: Lion and Unicorn: A Study in Eros and Agape (Cleveland: Meridian, 1956), 363, 370. This quote does not represent D’Arcy’s only view on the relation of nature and grace. D’Arcy presents a kaleidoscope of opinions on the relation, with no coherent explanation of the differences.

  13. Anders Nygren, Agape and Eros, tr. Philip S. Watson (New York: Harper and Row, 1957 [1930]), 129.

  14. Ibid., 735, 741.

  15. Ibid., 218, 213

  16. According to Nygren, agape is rightly understood as 1) unconditioned, spontaneous, groundless, or unmotivated, 2) indifferent to, but creative of, value, 3) directed toward sinners, 4) the sole initiator of creaturely fellowship with God, 5) in opposition to all that can be called self-love, 6) sacrificial giving to others, and 7) the only authentic Christian love as taught by the Bible (Anders Nygren, Agape and Eros, tr. Philip S. Watson [New York: Harper and Row, 1957 {1930}], 27-240).

    In addition to the reasons I give in this essay’s text to why Nygren’s understanding of agape ought to be rejected, let me add others. His understanding ought to be rejected because it opposes all that can be called self-love. We should reject it because, if genuine love only entails sacrificial giving, Christians cannot act lovingly when receiving gifts from others. And Nygren’s emphasis upon agape as the only appropriate Christian love neglects legitimate Christian philia and Christian eros.

    Those familiar with the agape debate are typically aware of these and similar criticisms. They are typically less familiar with a final criticism of Nygren’s concept of agape that influences love scholarship. That criticism arises in response to Nygren’s claim that agape is the distinctively Christian understanding of love, because, as he believes, the Bible proposes a relatively unique and uniform understanding of agape.

    An examination of Christian scripture reveals that, contrary to Nygren’s argument, biblical authors use the word agape to convey a wide variety and sometimes contradictory set of meanings. For instance, biblical writers sometimes use agape to refer to ideal ethical action, and other times biblical authors use agape to refer to sinful action (e.g., 2 Tim. 4:10; Rm. 12:9; 2 Cor. 8:8; Jn. 3:19; Lk. 11:43; Jn. 12:43; 2 Pt. 2:15; 1 Jn. 2:15; 2 Tm. 4:10). Sometimes biblical authors use agape to talk about unconditional love and other times about conditioned, response-dependent love. We find biblical authors using agape to talk about non-self-sacrificial love. Even the Apostle Paul – whom Nygren believes most supports his own agape theories – employs agape to talk about self-love (e.g., Eph. 5:28, 33). Because the context suggests it, biblical scholars translate agape in ways that we typically think the word eros or philia would be translated. For instance, agape is translated in ways that connote eros; it is rendered “to long for,” “to prefer,” “to desire,” “to prize,” “to value,” and “to be fond of” (e.g., 2 Tm. 4:8,10; Jn. 3:19 & 12:43; Hb. 1:9; Rv. 12:11; and Lk. 7:5). Sometimes agape is used to convey meanings traditionally assigned philia and, in many contexts, the two words seem interchangeable (James Moffatt, Love in the New Testament [London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1929], 51-56). In sum, the Bible is far from uniform in its understanding of agape. Neither the narrow claim that agape possesses a single meaning in the Bible nor the broader claim that one meaning of agape predominates in Christian Scripture find textual support. To be true to Christian Scripture, we should not talk about the biblical understanding of agape.

  17. Instead of “essential,” some philosophers prefer “superessential” to refer to divine attributes. The latter term implies that a particular attribute applies to God in all possible worlds. I mean for “essential” to imply the same.

  18. For a stimulating discussion of the relation between the divine will and divine nature with regard to love, see various essays in a book edited by John Polkinghorne, The Work of Love: Creation as Kenosis (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2001). See especially “God’s Power: A Process View,” by Ian Barbour, “Cosmos and Kenosis,” by Keith Ward, and “Creation out of Love,” by Paul Fiddes.

  19. On this, see Oord, “Divine Love,” in Philosophy of Religion.

  20. Ronald Goetz notes that “the rejection of the ancient doctrine of divine impassibility has become theological commonplace” (“The Rise of a New Orthodoxy,” The Christian Century 103/13 [1986], 385). The list of those who deny divine immutability and affirm divine suffering, at least in some way, is long. Works on that list, in addition to works by process theologians and philosophers, include the following: Marcus J. Borg, The God We Never Knew: Beyond Dogmatic Religion to a More Authentic Contemporary Faith (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1997); Barry L. Callen, God as Loving Grace: The Biblically Revealed Nature and Work of God (Nappanee Ind.: Evangel, 1996); Wendy Farley, Tragic Vision and Divine Compassion: A Contemporary Theodicy (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1990); Fiddes, The Creative Suffering of God; Elizabeth A. Johnson, She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse (New York: Crossroad, 1996); Catherine Mowry LaCugna, God For Us: The Trinity and Christian Life (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1991); Jung Young Lee, God Suffers for Us: A Systematic Inquiry into a Concept of Divine Passibility (The Hague: Marinus Nijhoff, 1974); Geddes MacGregor, He Who Lets Us Be: A Theology of Love (New York: Seabury, 1975); John Macquarrie, Principles of Christian Theology (London: SCM, 1977); Warren McWilliams, The Passion of God: Divine Suffering in Contemporary Protestant Theology (Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1985); Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God: The Cross of Christ as the Foundation and Criticism of Christian Theology, trans. R. A. Wilson and John Bowden (New York: Harper and Row, 1974), God in Creation: An Ecological Doctrine of Creation (London, SCM, 1985), The Trinity and the Kingdom: The Doctrine of God, trans. Margaret Kohl (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1981), 42-47; Thomas V. Morris, Our Idea of God: An Introduction to Philosophical Theology (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1991); Clark H. Pinnock, et. al., The Openness of God: A Biblical Challenge to the Traditional Understanding of God (Downers Grove, Ill: InterVarsity, 1994); S. Paul Schilling, God and Human Anguish (Nashville: Abingdon, 1977); Dorothy Sölle, Suffering, trans. E. R. Kalin (London: Darton, Longman, & Todd, 1975); Richard Swinburne, The Coherence of Theism (Oxford: Clarendon, 1977); Keith Ward, Rational Theology and the Creativity of God (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1982).

  21. The notion that God is the most moved mover, rather than the unmoved mover, derives from Abraham Heschel. Various process theologians employ the phrase as well. Clark Pinnock titles one of his books promoting the idea that God is affected by others, Most Moved Mover: A Theology of God’s Openness (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker, 2001).

  22. For a Wesleyan reading of divine omnipresence, see Michael Lodahl, God of Nature and of Grace: Reading the World in a Wesleyan Way (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), especially chapters 4 and 6.

  23. John Wesley, Sermon 118, “On the Omnipresence of God,” § 1.2, Works 4:41.

  24. A number of scholars have embraced panentheism in recent days. One of the better accounts of the diversity of meanings the label carries is found in the collection of essays, In Whom We Live and Move and Have our Being: Panentheistic Reflections on God’s Presence in a Scientific World (Philip Clayton and Arthur Peacocke, eds. [Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2004]). In that book, see especially “Naming a Quiet Revolution: The Pantheistic Turn in Modern Theology” (Michael W. Brierley) and “Pantheism Today: A Constructive Systematic Evaluation” (Philip Clayton).

  25. I use “theocosmocentrism” to distinguish my own view from the variety of panentheisms that scholars have adopted (for these varieties, see In Whom We Live and Move and Have our Being). By theocosmocentrism, I mean that God has always been related to some universe or another, and God did not create the universe from absolutely nothing (creatio ex nihilo). Some panentheists, by contrast, affirm creatio ex nihilo and the notion that God existed alone prior to God’s creation of this universe.

  26. The Christian doctrine of prevenient grace – as understood in the Wesleyan tradition – offers a similar concept of love as entailing divine call and creaturely response. Prevenient grace might best be described as God acting in each moment to empower creatures to respond freely and then wooing them to choose responses that increase overall well-being. Creatures who respond appropriately to the specific calls of an omnipresent, omni-relational God will act in ways that promote overall well-being. See Randy L. Maddox, Responsible Grace: John Wesley’s Practical Theology (Nashville, Tenn.: Abingdon, 1994) and Mildred Bangs Wynkoop, A Theology of Love: The Dynamic of Wesleyanism (Kansas City, Mo.: Beacon Hill, 1972).

  27. Charles Hartshorne’s discussion of the God-world/mind-body analogy is helpful. He states that “the body is simply that much of the world with which the mind, or personal society, has effective immediate interactions of mutual inheritance, and over which its influence is dominant. Such is God’s relation to all of the world, and therefore all of it is his body. This has none of the degrading effects that giving God a body is supposed to have; indeed, it is only a way of saying that God’s social relations with all things are uniquely adequate, that he really and fully loves all of them, and that they all, however inadequately or unconsciously, love him.” Hartshorne continues, saying that it is not true, “that the lesser organisms within a mind’s organism are absolutely controlled by that mind, deprived of all decisions of their own, or that what the parts of the body decide for themselves the dominant mind decides for itself. Hence creaturely freedom and God’s non-responsibility for evil are compatible with the view that God is the personality of the cosmic body, the totality of societies inferior to that personal-order society which is the mind and life of God” (Charles Hartshorne, “Whitehead’s Idea of God” in The Philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead, Paul Arthur Schilpp, ed. 2nd ed. [New York: Tudor, 1951], 549-50).

  28. Friedrich Schleiermacher, The Christian Faith (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1989 [2nd ed., 1830]). The translation of schlechthinig as “utter” is my own, but this translation is not unique to me.

  29. The notion that God offers possible options for action to creatures is articulated well in the writing of some process theologians. See, for instance, John B. Cobb, Jr., A Christian Natural Theology: Based on the Philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1965), David Ray Griffin, Reenchantment Without Supernaturalism: A Process Philosophy of Religion (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2001), Marjorie Hewett Suchocki, God-Christ-Church: A Practical Guide to Process Theology (New York: Crossroad, 1993), and Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology, corrected edition, ed. David Ray Griffin and Donald W. Sherburne (New York: Free Press, 1978; orig. ed., 1929).

  30. Griffin, Reenchantment Without Supernaturalism, 147.

  31. John Wesley, Sermon 118, “On the Omnipresence of God,” § 2.1, Works 4:42.

  32. Pitirim Sorokin, The Ways and Power of Love: Types, Factors, and Techniques of Moral Transformation (Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation, [1954] 2002), 16.

 

Response to NT Wright: We Can Lament and Explain

I disagree with NT Wright. And I don’t often do that.

In a recent Time article titled, “Christianity Offers No Answers About the Coronavirus. It’s Not Supposed To,” Wright makes some statements with which I can agree.

But I don’t agree with his main point.

I Agree…

Wright begins his little essay by referring to the Christian practices of Lent. He rightly calls some explanations for God’s relation to the Coronavirus “silly.” He rejects the idea God is punishing us, warning us, or giving a sign by sending this pandemic.

I agree with Wright that God is not causing the pandemic for some higher purpose. We should not “explain” suffering as God orchestrated. The Coronavirus isn’t part of some divine blueprint.

I also agree when Wright says our suffering grieves God. God is “in the tears of Jesus and the anguish of the Spirit,” as he puts it. “God also laments,” says Wright.

Perhaps my favorite line is this: “Some Christians like to think of God as above all that, knowing everything, in charge of everything, calm and unaffected by the troubles in his world. That’s not the picture we get in the Bible.”

I couldn’t agree more!

Lament

Instead of searching for answers to God’s will and the Coronavirus (as I have offered in this essay), Wright says our response should be to lament. The essay's final paragraph provides his central argument:

“It is no part of the Christian vocation, then, to be able to explain what’s happening and why. In fact, it is part of the Christian vocation not to be able to explain—and to lament instead. As the Spirit laments within us, so we become, even in our self-isolation, small shrines where the presence and healing love of God can dwell. And out of that there can emerge new possibilities, new acts of kindness, new scientific understanding, new hope.”

I agree lament can be a place “where the presence and healing love of God can dwell.” And from this place, I think new possibilities, acts of kindness, scientific understanding, and new hope can emerge. God can squeeze some good from lament.

But do we have to choose between lament and explanation?

I Disagree…

“Always be ready to give an account of the hope that is within you,” says the Apostle Peter (1 Pt. 3:15). I take this verse to mean we should seek explanations for what God might be doing during this pandemic. I find numerous biblical passages explaining God's action in response to suffering.

Most of the explanations I'm encountering today for what God is doing are “silly.” I don’t think God sends the Coronavirus to punish or teach us a lesson. God has not caused and is not allowing the virus to kill, harm, and cause havoc.

God is not in the evil business.

But it is part of the Christian tradition to offer a plausible explanation to what’s happening. It’s part of being Christian to seek believable answers to the “why” questions. It's part of being a Christian to give an account of the hope we have.

We should lament the suffering in our world. But we can simultaneously seek answers to why God doesn't prevent suffering in the first place!

God’s Uncontrolling Love

The explanation I find most helpful to God's relation to the pandemic says God is not in control. In fact, God can’t control. God is not to blame, because God is neither causing nor permitting the pandemic, as if God could stop it singlehandedly.

The pandemic solidifies in my mind our need to rethink God’s power in light of God’s love.

My reasoning rests on the logic of love. I think God loves everyone and everything. And God’s love is always uncontrolling. Consequently, God can’t control anyone or anything.

Not even God can stop the Coronavirus singlehandedly.

Instead of appeals to mystery or only lamenting the suffering we endure, Christians can say God suffers with us and cares for us. And God cannot singlehandedly prevent the Coronavirus as it wreaks havoc.

The God I am describing is not watching from a distance, eating popcorn. Instead, God actively fights against evil. But God needs cooperation from creatures and creation for love to win.

God empowers and inspires us to love during this crisis. Our decisions matter as we care for the hurting, maintain spatial distance, share with the needy, and help in whatever way necessary. We cannot win without God's empowering love. But God needs our cooperation to overcome this evil.

More Questions?

I realize saying, “God can’t singlehandedly stop the Coronavirus” will raise questions. Many readers will be unfamiliar with the uncontrolling love of God view I’ve mentioned. I explain these ideas in my best-selling book, God Can’t: How to Believe in God and Love after Tragedy, Abuse, and Other Evils. For a more academic presentation of these ideas, see The Uncontrolling Love of God: An Open and Relational Account of Providence. I encourage those with questions to dive deeper.

Let me conclude with a summary.

I agree with Tom Wright on many things. The usual answers for why God doesn’t stop the Coronavirus are silly. Christians ought to embrace lament as we suffer the effects of the virus. And God suffers with us.

But unlike Wright, I think we should seek explanations for what God’s will is and what God's doing. We ought to ask what God’s power must be like in light of God’s love.

We should admit God cannot prevent evil singlehandedly. But God is working against the Coronavirus. And God calls you, me, and all creation to overcome evil with love.