Deus Caritas Est
Benedict XVI (2006)

First reading.
Posted 11 March 2006.
 

Nine months after his election, Pope Benedict XVI has issued his first encyclical, taking as his subject the love of which the New Testament speaks, "God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him" (1 John 4:16). In this note I intend to outline and comment on the basic argument. References to the text are cited with paragraph numbers.

Christian love, as we know, includes both love of God and love of neighbour. Roughly speaking, the encyclical falls into two parts, each of which is primarily concerned with one of those loves, though by the nature of the subject they cannot be entirely separated. In the first half, Benedict gives a fairly philosophical account of the love of God, including both human love for God, and God's love for humanity. The second half, which is considerably less abstract, discusses the love of neighbour, especially as realized through the charitable work of the Church.

Part I

Benedict chooses to discuss love under two aspects: eros and agape. By eros he means more than sexual love. In his excellent study On Love, Josef Pieper gives a summary of the wider meaning of this word in the Western tradition of reflection on love. Eros was seen, he says, as "affection kindled by physical beauty; intoxicated god-sent madness; the impulse to philosophical contemplation of the world and existence; the exaltation that went with the contemplation of divine beauty."  Eros is love that seeks goodness and happiness outside itself. C.S. Lewis called it 'need-love', for it aims at completion and fulfillment.  It has an intrinsic element of selfishness. 

In the ancient world, eros was associated with the divine, the Greek fertility cults being one manifestation of that insight.  Yet this divinization, says Benedict, did not result in the true flourishing of erotic love, but rather in its degradation (4). In the fertility cults, people were reduced to objects of pleasure, means to an end, and stripped of their dignity as persons. Living, as we are, in the wake of the sexual revolution this inversion is familiar. Far from bearing fruit in greater unity, the glorification of eros has produced a curious form of dualism in which people treat, not only one another, but even their own bodies as objects to be used for pleasure and nothing else.

As we shall see, the Catholic tradition has given its approval to the idea that in eros we glimpse something of the divine, but it has balanced that judgment with the teaching that eros must submit to discipline and renunciation if it is to remain a good. 'Virtus est ordo amoris', said St. Augustine, and without being rightly ordered eros degrades us and those around us. This, I believe, is because eros is basically mediative, in the sense that it unites the lowest and highest in human nature: the natural and sensual with the spiritual and ethical. When it fails in that mediative role, we will, according to temperament, view eros as a coarse and vulgar appetite, or as a mere mask for instinctual animal drives. In either case, we fail to see the matter truly.

Having established, then, that eros is a good that nevertheless requires discipline if it is to remain good, Benedict turns to that love which the New Testament calls agape. This is the word which the New Testament prefers to use when describing the love of God. (In fact, the word eros does not appear in the Greek New Testament.) Agape is an unselfish love, opposed to desire or lust, that seeks the good of the beloved. It is selfless, potentially sacrificial, and is seen most clearly in the love of Christ. This fresh meaning which the New Testament writers gave to the word constitutes "something new and distinct about the Christian understanding of love" (3). (Throughout the encylical, Benedict uses it synonomously with the Latin caritas, from which our word 'charity' is derived. Hence, in this note - or at least in Part I - let 'charity' mean more than merely 'giving to the poor'.) Josef Pieper described caritas in this way:

The careers of these two conceptions of love have had a sometimes tense relationship in Western history. Nietzsche famously argued that Christianity has poisoned eros and replaced it with an effeminate, weak love. Martin Luther, on the other hand, accused the Catholic Church of having abandoned Christian agape in favour of pagan eros (consider Augustine's 'Our hearts are restless until they rest in you", or, for that matter, Aquinas' ethics). This raises the question: how should we understand the relationship between eros and agape?

Benedict argues that the two aspects of love are just that - aspects - and are intrinsically related to one another. Contra Nietzsche and Luther, he denies that they are in fundamental opposition. Eros, for its part, tends toward agape as it matures:


The intrinsic relationship of agape to eros is more difficult to discern. Is it enough to say that it is the terminus toward which genuine eros tends? Perhaps eros, understood as the desire for God, could be seen as sustaining agape, understood as sacrificial love of neighbour? Or perhaps apage should be seen as a new vision of love which, by its presence, reveals new possibilities for eros? On this point I find the encyclical unclear. 

So as to emphasize in the strongest possible terms that eros and agape are not opposed, Benedict states that the two aspects are united in the love of God for humanity (9). As creatures, we are dependent on God for our very being, which comes to us as an unmerited gift, a manifestation of agape. (This touches tangentially on the deep connection between love and creation which is such a beautiful element of Catholic theology.) Yet Christian revelation also teaches that God is not only the sovereign source of being who - as it were - disinterestedly creates by the power of his word. He also, in the role of lover, comes in search of humanity, empties himself, takes the form of a slave and dwells among us, full of grace and truth. In the life of Christ, then, we see God's love manifest as eros.

Recognizing God's love as eros has several consequences. First, it means that eros is sanctified (10), and must henceforth be affirmed as good. Second, it creates an intimate connection between monotheism and monogamy (11). The relationship between God and his people is that of a lover and his beloved. Thus Scripture is full of language which describes religious infidelity in terms of marital infidelity, and, by the same token, describes marriage as an image of God's covenant. "Marriage based on exclusive and definitive love becomes the icon of the relationship between God and his people..." (11).

This unity of eros and agape in God, and in a particularly evident way in the life of Christ, has implications for Christian life because Christians are to be like God, imitators of Christ. The means by which this unity grows and is fostered in the Christian's life, says Benedict, are the sacraments of the Church, and preeminently the Eucharist. The self-giving love manifest in the Eucharist is, on one hand, an intimate communion between God and the individual. Here eros, understood in the ancient sense of exaltation at the contemplation of divine beauty, is kindled and stoked. Yet, on the other hand, the Eucharist is an intrinsically communal act, for "union with Christ is also union with all those to whom he gives himself" (14). In the Eucharist, therefore, we recognize ourselves not only as individuals, but also as members of one body, which is the Church. This, in turn, means that my interests are not separate from the interests of my neighbour, for in Christ we are one (18). As such, I ought to love my neighbour as I love myself. Eros is thus transmuted into agape. This naturally opens the door to the second part of the encyclical, which treats love - agape - as manifest in the care and concern which Christians are to have for one another and for their neighbour.

Part II

"The entire activity of the Church is an expression of a love that seeks the integral good of man" (19). Benedict affirms that charitable work, together with the Gospel and the sacraments, are the three essential branches of the Church's ministry (22). Recounting the New Testament establishment of deacons to oversee charitable work (21), and recalling the famous story of St. Lawrence (22), the Pope shows that charity has been part of the Church's life since the beginning. She has a responsibility to everyone who is in need, but particularly to the poor inside the Church (25).

A major topic of this part of the encyclical is the respective roles of the state and the Church in charitable work. Benedict broaches the topic by stating a Marxist objection to the very notion of charity:


While admitting that there is some truth in this picture, Benedict denies that it is an adequate analysis. By proscribing charity, such a system sacrifices people to a utopian future, and "one does not make the world more human by refusing to act humanely here and now" (31). Rather than allowing the question to be posed as a stark contrast - justice or charity - he instead, much as he did in the first section's analysis of eros and agape, affirms both.

The just ordering of society is the primary responsibility of the state; works of charity, on the other hand, are the special perogative of the Church. The state should work toward a society whose institutions and policies ensure that no one is deprived of the basic necessities of life, and this is a long-term project.  On the other hand, this goal will never be fully achieved, and the Church is to try to meet the immediate needs of those who suffer here and now. Justice and charity, understood as two means of opposing exploitation and reducing suffering, are complementary (28). This does not mean that the Church leaves the world of politics to its own devices in order to manage the parish soup kitchen. On the contrary, the Church has a major, if indirect, role in the pursuit of justice:


Justice, after all, is a matter of moral reasoning; naturally the Church, with its long tradition of moral reflection and natural law philosophy, has something to contribute to the discussion.

Finally, Benedict enumerates a number of the qualities which should characterize the Church's charitable mission. First, it should have an expansive answer to the question "Who is my neighbour?" Modern technological advances have made it possible for us to have a real influence on people half a world away, and consequently our sphere of charitable work should include those people (30).  Second, it can and should be carried out in co-operation with others (30), though without allowing the Church's work to be entirely swallowed by secular efforts, nor allowing charity to decline to mere bureaucratic process.  The Church should maintain a human face in its relations with the poor (31). Christian charity should be a response to immediate human needs: feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for the sick, visiting the imprisoned, and so on (31). 

Charitable work must be non-partisan and non-ideological. "It is not at the service of worldly stratagems, but is a way of making present here and now the love which man always needs" (31). It should therefore turn a blind eye to political affiliations, and should not permit itself to be recruited in the exclusive service of ideologues.  (One perhaps detects here an echo of the rebuke delivered to the liberation theologians in the 1980s.) Furthermore, charity should not be a mere front for proselytism.  "Love is free; it is not practiced as a means of achieving other ends" (31). This does not mean the Church should behave as though it is not the Church; after all, "often the deepest cause of suffering is the very absence of God" (31). It does mean that she must not make religious affiliation a condition of assistance, nor impose the Church's faith on an unwilling soul. Finally, the Church's charity must be resolutely non-utopian (33).  Benedict makes this point bluntly: charity "must not be inspired by ideologies aimed at improving the world". Rather, it should "be guided by the faith which works through love". Utopian dreams might lead one to despair in the face of the enormity of the problem. The Christian's response is instead to be one of simple service: "In all humility we will do what we can, and in all humility we will entrust the rest to the Lord. It is God who governs the world, not we. We offer him our service only to the extent that we can, and for as long as he grants us the strength" (35).

Casting a look back over the entire second part of the encyclical, perhaps I could summarize the argument this way: While there is a meaningful distinction between justice and charity, they should be seen as complementary rather than opposed. The state has the primary responsibility for creating a just society, and this may involve the founding of charitable organizations. The Church, on the other hand, has an indirect teaching role in the matter of justice, while taking a leading role in meeting the needs of the poor and suffering. For the Church, charity must never degenerate to 'processes' or 'programs', but should be seen as a spiritual service, inspired by love, meeting the needy person as a person.

The encylical closes with a beautiful paean to the Blessed Virgin (42).

Final remarks

It would be interesting to know how the two parts of the encyclical came to be joined. In what order were they written? The first part, while not unsuitably joined to a reflection on charity work, could, it seems to me, have equally well been joined to a discussion of many another topic. I was a little startled by the way in which the exalted notion of caritas developed in the first part declined precipitously at the transition to simply describe work-a-day charitable work in the second part. This probably just reflects my own preference for the subject matter of the first part, which contains the really foundational teaching. I was particularly struck by the idea that the sacraments are ordered to the cultivation of the unity of eros and agape. This was the probably the specifically theological peak of the argument (or the stormiest theological heavy weather, according to taste).  To anyone interested in pursuing the themes of the first half in more detail I recommend the outstanding book On Love, by Josef Pieper.  It takes up the topic in great detail, and is a treasure.
 
The encyclical's citations are perhaps worth remarking on briefly. Included are references to writings of John Paul II, documents of Vatican II, and the catechism, as one would expect. Perhaps more surprising are the citations of Plato, Pseudo-Dionysius, and Descartes (Nietzsche and Marx, though appearing in the text, do not receive citations - perhaps it was thought imprudent to cite authors who had previously been placed on the Index of Forbidden Books?). The most cited author, however, appears to be St. Augustine, and this is not surprising, for there is much in the encyclical of a distinctively Augustinian savour. I'm certainly not complaining.

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