Tom Oord's "Defining Love" and "The Nature of Love" -- A Review

DEFINING LOVE: A Philosophical, Scientific, and Theological Engagement. By Thomas Jay Oord. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2010. Xiii +225 pages. THE NATURE OF LOVE: A Theology. St. Louis: Chalice Press, 2010. Xii +195 pages.

Christians talk a lot about love. We affirm that God is love. We say that God loves the world enough to send into the world his Son. We treasure the words of 1 Corinthians 13, with its suggestion that while faith and hope will abide, the greatest is love. We even sing, perhaps with an uneasy conscience, “They’ll Know We Are Christians by Our Love.” But, what do we mean when we talk about love? What is our definition? How do we know to discern whether someone is acting in love? In fact, where does love come from? All of these questions are raised and addressed in these two similar, but different, books authored by Nazarene theologian Thomas Jay Oord.

Tom Oord, who is Professor of Theology and Philosophy at Northwest Nazarene University and a Ph.D. graduate of Claremont Graduate University, has an agenda. He wants to move beyond simply putting love on the theological discussion table to placing love at the very center of theology. If God not only loves, but is love, then love should be “organizing principle” of theology. Unfortunately, in Oord’s mind, this has not happened. Too often it remains behind Oz’s curtain, but “only when placed at the center can the logic of love explicitly extend to all aspects of Christian theology” (Nature, p. 4).

Oord’s agenda, it would seem, requires too very different but related books. Defining Love is in many ways the foundational text. It provides the broader outlines for placing love at the center of theological reflection, but looking at love from philosophical and scientific angles as well as theological ones. In this challenging and at times dense book Oord lays out a new field of scholarship, what he calls the “love, science, and theology symbiosis” (Defining, p. 5). In this context Oord is advocating a program of “love research,” that has at its core the belief that it is possible for the world and individuals can get better. He wants to find ways in which we can discern the virtues and practices that will enable this to happen. In other words, love just doesn’t’ happen. It requires nurture and promotion and development. This requires research into the nature of love and how it is best expressed. With this in mind, Oord lays out his understandings of science and theology, trying to clearly define where they are different and where they relate to each other.

Essential to this program is to have a firm definition of love, one that can provide a foundation for research and theological reflection. The definition that he formulates provides the basis for discussion in both of these books. That basic definition reads as follows:

To love is to act intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (including God), to promote overall well-being (Defining, p. 15).

With this basic definition in mind, Oord proceeds to explore the diverse forms of love, for not all forms of love are alike, even if they have at their base the same purpose – “promotion of overall well-being.” Thus, he looks at agape, philia, and eros. While making use of theology here, he is more intent on exploring the input of philosophy to the discussion.

Moving from definitions, Oord brings to bear the “qualitative and quantitative” insights of the social sciences, including both psychology and sociology. Key to this discussion are concepts such as altruism and empathy, along with personality types and motives. He concludes that from examining research there is a clear move away from the idea that humans are by nature “inevitably and invariably egoistic” (Defining, p. 96). If the social sciences provide one vantage point, what about biology. Assuming that evolution is true, the question concerns how evolutionary development provides the conditions for love. Again the focus is on altruism, and whether there is evidence from the study of nature of self-sacrificial action. Although the explorations are still at their early stages, the key question, concerns the evidence that nonhuman creatures express love. This may still be speculative, but there is interesting evidence to pursue. Turning from biology to cosmology, with its discussions of the formation of the universe, including the principle of creatio ex nihilo, the issue here in part concerns the possibilities of divine engagement with the universe. This is a key question for we must wrestle with the way in which God might engage us. Does God have either the power or the will to change or affect in dramatic ways nature? Or does God work in a very different fashion? Here Oord, who can be considered part of the Open Theism movement, interacts with a variety of theological and biblical perspectives, including Process Theology, which he respects but doesn’t embrace completely. The point of the chapter isn’t to provide a final understanding but to lay out the parameters and possibilities for study. Finally, he reaches theology, where he expresses his hope for a partnership between the sciences and theology so that love can find its place at the center of theology.

If Defining Love has a scientific/philosophical focus, The Nature of Love focuses on theology itself. Of the two books, this is probably the easier read and may be for many the most appropriate place to start. Although no mention is made of Defining Love many of the ideas and foundations transfer from one book to the other (I’m not sure which book was written first, though from the reader's perspective Defining Love could be considered the foundational book).

In Nature of Love Oord begins with the same definition of love as in the first book, with a focus on intentionality and end result – promotion of well-being. Whereas in the first book his conversation partners are the sciences and philosophy, here they are theologians. He wrestles with Anders Nygren over agape, St. Augustine over eros, and Clark Pinnock over philia. He finds something of value in each of these theologians and their particular definitions and perspectives on love, but he also finds them to be deficient at important points. Of the three foci, I found the engagements with Nygren and Augustine the most pertinent. In both cases, Oord redefines in important ways how we understand love.

In regard to Nygren and Nygren’s claim that agape is the definitive form of Christian love, to the exclusion of other forms, Oord challenges the idea that we are simply conduits of a love that comes from God alone without any human engagement. In his view, agape should be understood as “in spite of love.” That is, agape is that form of love that intentionally seeks to promote the well-being of the other despite the fact that the other means us harm or evil. God is definitely involved, but that doesn’t mean that we have not part to play. With regard to eros, which Augustine saw as a deficient form of love, for Augustine believed that only God could truly love, and that the object of love has no value in and of itself. Oord defines eros as being “because of love,” by which God and we seek to promote overall well-being by affirming and promoting the value that is inherent in the other. This is, I believe an important step, for too often theology starts with the premise that we are some how “totally depraved” and thus having no inherent worth or value. If Oord is correct, then we must think differently, and that means that we act differently with regard to the other. Finally, he deals with philia, and in this regard looks to his late colleague Clark Pinnock with whom he has much in common, but with whom he has what might seem to be minor differences, but which have important implications. Philia is by definition the promotion of well-being by “coming alongside.” It is that friendship, community oriented form of love, which reminds us that we need each other. It speaks of cooperation with God and with one another. Where he differs from Pinnock is in Pinnock’s concern to protect God’s reputation.

In the final chapter of The Nature of Love, Oord offers his own theological program, which he calls “essential kenosis.” This program serves as the context in which love can be brought into the center. There are similarities to Process Theology, though through the use of the idea of kenosis (self-emptying), he hopes to distinguish from his own idea of a self-limiting God with that of an inherently limited divinity, but in this understanding self-limitation isn’t voluntary, it is essential to God’s nature. What he wants the reader to understand is that God’s love is a question of necessity. Whereas in other forms of kenosis theology, God need not love outside the Trinity, in his understanding God of necessity loves the Creation. Love is not contingent. It is part of God’s nature. External forces don’t limit God, but God’s nature does. Therefore, God cannot but love.

So the question is – what does it mean for God to love, and here it’s important that all three forms of love are brought into the equation. The kind of love that forms the center of theology – our understanding of God – must be “full-orbed.” We make a mistake when we think that we can settle on one form of love and define that as Christian or divine love. We must instead bring agape, eros, and philia into our definition. If this is true of God, then it is also true for us, who are called upon as God’s creation to imitate God by expressing this full-orbed love of God in our lives. I should add that in Oord’s understanding love means that God is not coercive in any way. Thus, even creation is not a coercive act, but requires the participation of the other for creation to occur. You can see the similarities to Process Theology. The borders the two are a bit fuzzy, but there is enough of a difference to keep these two as separate understandings of the nature and purpose of God.

I believe that Tom Oord is on to something important. I have found his definitions of love to be not only helpful but have provided a new orientation for understanding the unconditional nature of love, and the full-orbed nature of love. I believe his definitions are far superior to any others I’ve seen. Thus, as a pastor and a preacher, who believes that God not only loves, but is love, these definitions and the research that help sustain these definitions will help the church move forward into the future. It will assist us in moving away from self-centeredness to others-centeredness. It will help us reorient the way we do theology and understand God and God’s relationship to Creation.

Of the two books, The Nature of Love is the easiest to work with and may be the most helpful, but for those who wish to dig deeper into the project, then Defining Love is an important read. Both are well written, but neither of these books are quick reads. They require diligent engagement and reflection. That said, Tom Oord is on to something important that the church needs to hear.

Making Sense of Evolution -- Review

MAKING SENSE OF EVOLUTION:  Darwin, God, and the Drama of Life.  By John F. Haught.  Louisville:  WJK Press, 2010.  144 pp.

Here’s something creationists and evolutionary naturalists agree about: Darwin’s theory of evolution leads inevitably to atheism. John F. Haught disagrees. In Making Sense of Evolution, he proposes that one need not choose between God and Darwin.

Haught is most concerned with people such as Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett who define faith in narrow, ultraconservative terms. He challenges them by suggesting that one can be faithful to a religious tradition and also open to modern science. Haught reminds those of us who are people of faith open to evolutionary science that coexistence doesn’t mean living in separate homes (as Stephen J. Gould suggested).

Making Sense of Evolution invites the reader to develop a “theology of evolution.” The key to Haught’s argument is found in the second half of the book’s subtitle: “the Drama of Life.” Science offers one lens on reality, but it doesn’t tell the whole story. It doesn’t offer answers to questions of meaning or purpose or explain why people continue to believe in God. Haught suggests that evolution is like a set of grammatical rules that guide the telling of the story of reality but don’t define its content. As we seek to understand this story, we also ask what role God might play in the drama.

The traditional answer to this question is to point to design, and no one laid out the principles of design better than William Paley. But as Darwin himself discovered, Paley’s principles of design were too simple, too mechanical. Haught sees reality as involving multiple layers, one of which can be seen from the vantage point of science. Drama is another one of the layers. In this layer, God is not an engineer laying out the machine called life (Darwin effectively overthrew that image) but is coming into reality from the future, luring and beckoning life to move forward toward God’s desired end. Of course not all the scenes are written in this scenario, for God must adapt to the choices that are made.

A theology of evolution offers an “ultimate reason why things are the way they are.” “It is not in the design, diversity, and descent,” says Haught, “but in the transformative drama of life, that theology finally makes its deepest contact with Darwin’s science.”

Haught's theology is process-oriented. He makes wide use of Whitehead, Hartshorne and Tillich. He assumes that God’s involvement in the creative process is noncoercive and synergistic. Humans play a significant role in the evolutionary process.

Drama allows creation the freedom to work in relationship with the creator. The process isn’t always pretty, but do we really want a preordained, preset world that provides no opportunity for growth or contribution from the creation? Haught doesn’t.

If Christians wish to join in the scientific conversation, they need resources like this one. Evolutionary science and theology need not be done in isolation. Instead, we can see Darwin’s theory as a spiritual gift that will further our understandings of God in our age.

This review was originally posted at Theolog, the blog of the Christian Century

Evolution and Human Participation in Creation

There is much that science can tell us about the world, but it doesn't exhaust the possibilities.  There is room for other layers of explanation.  Albert Einstein didn't believe in a personal God, but he did have a sense that there might be something deeper, below the surface that gave guidance or mindfulness to the process of creation. 

In Krista Tippett's new book Einstein's God, which I've just started reading, she discusses Einstein's views of theology and science with physicists Freeman Dyson and Paul Davies.  As part of this discussion, she offers a quote from Einstein's autobiography, in which he writes of his own sense of religiousness.  It is, for Einstein the sense of mystery and amazement.  He's not a believer in a God of rewards and punishments (but then neither do I)  nor does he believe in a God with a will like ours (in this I differ from him, for I believe our will is a reflection of God's).   Then he writes:

Enough for me, the mystery of the eternity of life and the inkling of the marvelous structure of reality, together with the single-hearted endeavor to comprehend a portion, be it ever so tiny, of the reason that manifests itself in nature (p. 23)  [emphasis mine].

For Einstein there is something there, the universe is not mindless.  What that entails, well that's another discussion.

But, if we're open to the idea that evolution and faith are not incompatible, then perhaps there is a way of developing a theology of evolution that respects the integrity of science and the integrity of faith.  John F. Haught, whose book Making Sense of Evolution (WJK, 2010), I've been commenting upon, suggests that "evolution allows us to realize that human beings are invited to participate in the great work of creation" (p. 148).    We are, he suggests co-creators, and evolution as a theory allows us to understand the role we play.

He goes on to write:

If we fail to keep this evolutionary perspective alive, our sense of ethical obligation -- and for the Christian, the following of Christ -- is in danger of being reduced to blind obedience to arbitrary imperatives and divine commands, or perhaps simply to seeking a reward in the hereafter.  In that case, ethical life becomes, Teilhard's words, a matter of "killing time," and redemption becomes a matter of "harvesting souls" from a pointless universe. (pg. 148)

In other words, there is something bigger out there for us to participate in.  Evolution becomes then a gift from Darwin to the church, so that it can better understand its calling.  He concludes the book:

After Darwin, Christian theology can do better than this.  Even though Darwin himself seemed oblivious to the potential his discoveries have to stimulate theological, spiritual, and ethical renewal.  his theory of evolution is a great gift to Christian theology and spirituality as they seek to interpret Jesus' revolutionary understanding of God for our own age and future generations.  (p. 148)

Rather than being the death nail of faith, as Dawkins and his friends suggest, Darwin's theories offer an opportunity for Christians to reclaim their calling to be a blessing to the world through participating in the creation of the universe.  I think that's a pretty good gift!

Ultimate Explanations of Design

Yesterday, I raised the possibility of seeing creation as a drama -- something that John Haught suggests.  Haught is a Catholic theologian who has a good grasp of the relationship of science and theology.  He suggests in his book Making Sense of Evolution that Charles Darwin's  Origin of the Species raises three subtexts with theological implications -- design, diversity, and descent.  He adds into that conversation other elements, the key being drama.  For a moment, however, I need to go back to the question of design.  One of the things that Haught suggests is that both the Evolutionary Naturalists and the Creationist/ID folks are arguing on the same plane -- dealing with the question of design.  Both sides seem to have the same definition of design -- that is, if God is the designer then everything should work perfectly (whatever that means).  Haught believes that if what requires is that divine design means "without flaws," then the theological proposal falls flat.  But, there are other ways of looking at this issue.  

What is important to note about Darwin is that he started his explorations with William Paley ideas of design in mind, ideas he came to reject as unworkable in practice, but there is no evidence that Darwin rejected the idea of a divine hand -- he just didn't know how it might work, which is the way it should be, at least from a scientific perspective.

The problem we face today is that there are some in the religious community that wish to answer scientific questions with religious answers.  At the same time, there are those, like Dawkins, who want to answer theological questions with science.  Haught suggests that when evolutionists want to use evolution as "an alternative to traditional theological understanding, they are not yet doing pure science." (Making Sense of Evolution, p. 17).  Evolution isn't an alternative to a theological explanation, it is a different kind of explanation all together.  He writes:

Even if they reject classic theological answers to the question of design, as they almost invariably do, they are still imprisoned by a kind of concern that is more theological than scientific.  The evidence for this confusion emerges clearly whenever evolutionists insist that it is natural selection rather than divine action that provides the ultimate explanation of design.  If they would stick to arguing that natural selection is an alternative to other proposed scientific explanations of design, biologists would remain outside the theological circle. (pp. 17-18).

Unfortunately they don't stick with scientific explanatioins -- they want to offer theological answers with natural selection serving as a theological answer.  And, as Haught notes, this simply doesn't work, because these are two different kinds of answers.  Thus, as Haught notes, even in their rejection of theology, the "evolutionary naturalists" such as Dawkins and Dennett end up talking theology, because they seem to want to offer an "ultimate" explanation that is found only in biology. 

So, the question I'd like to raise is this -- can we have a conversation in which both theology and science participate without one or the other trying to have the last word?