I must confess that when it was first decided that the theme of the conference was to be the Philosophy of love, I was at a loss as to what to say about it.   The philosopher in me fears that anything that can be said will come across as sappy, subjective sentimentalism, while the lover in me believes that if one experiences it, there is no need to analyze it.  In fact, analyzing it probably interferes with one’s ability to experience it, at least in the moment one is doing the analyzing.  Fortunately, even philosophers neglect to analyze once in awhile, during which time they still have all the benefits of actually knowing love.

In any case, I have given you an idea of why I felt unprepared to speak on this subject, but I still have not touched upon what I will say about it.  A common approach is one I first encountered as junior high student in Sunday school, which is to begin by comparing the three kinds of love allegedly acknowledged by the Greeks (eros, philia, and agape—I don’t know which of these relate to my love of writing long emails —well, I’m sure it’s not eros!).  I’m quite sure our teacher wanted us to be left with the impression that agape was the best kind of love, but I am confident in asserting that I was not alone among my classmates (well, the boys at least—I can’t speak for the girls!) in feeling that, well, while agape sounded nice and everything, what I really needed was some of that eros! (even if she did describe it in the innocuous terms of “the kind of love a man feels for a woman”). 

Pope Benedict XVI has recently reminded us that all forms of love are perfected in the love of God, so that one sees eros and agape as requiring not a preference for one over the other, but rather an integration.[1]  It is probably not a surprise that much sin involves the inability to achieve this integration, where people are pulled by both a distorted eroticism and a genuine reverence toward agape.  (This is perhaps best known as the “an angel on one shoulder whispering in your ear, a devil on the other one” phenomenon.)  We desire to give totally for another, but we also desire to claim the other totally for ourselves. 

This sort of psychological tug-of-war is the fuel of so-called “co-dependent” relationships.  It is interesting that this wording suggests that there is something wrong with being “dependent.” Some Wesleyans have certainly questioned this view, if not this term, suggesting that our relationship with God need not be understood as requiring that God cannot be affected by us.  As they would point out, an interactive God who responds to us certainly seems to be “moved” by His relationship to us in some sense.  Such a view certainly tests, and probably oversteps, the boundaries of traditional orthodoxy,[2] but it is understandable why one would find themselves to be, well, unmoved, by the concept of the indifferent and immutable Prime Mover of the philosophers.  My suspicion is that this sentiment is not to be overcome by compromising divine immutability, but rather by exploring more deeply the implications of agape and eros.  I will touch on this later.  For now, however, my focus will be on the kind of love that is often overlooked in our personal passion play, so to speak, involving eros and agape; namely, philia, or brotherly love. 

Whereas eros suggests a desire to claim another for oneself, and agape involves a desire to totally give oneself to another, philia is characterized by the desire to love another as one’s equal.  Eros suggests the frenzy of passion and agape the heights of transcendence.  Philia, by comparison, seems rather sedate, almost boring.  (Imagine trying to explain love to bratty junior high Sunday schoolers by referring them to the kind of love they have for their brother!)  And yet, we might speculate that this loving equalization is absolutely essential in balancing the tendencies toward absolute possession and absolute self-giving.

Ancient philosophers, such as Aristotle, generally assume that such truly egalitarian love can only be experienced toward a few.  For Aristotle especially, the highest kind of love between humans, a love of the finest equality, is reserved for those who are truly virtuous.[3]  The true “friend” is the one who we regard as another “self”[4]—someone, so to speak, who is “created in our image.”  The Gospel, on the other hand, commands us to “love our neighbor as ourself,” and when asked who are neighbor is, Christ made it clear everyone is our neighbor, but especially those in need (of course, we are all in need!).  For Aristotle, where there is an inequality of need, the highest friendship is impossible.  In addition, while we may, he says, strive for goodwill toward all, we cannot strive for loving friendship.[5] 

The question which now arises is how can one achieve true philia toward all human beings, given a disparity of need, and of virtue?  Various political solutions, such as those found in the communitarianism of Aristotle, classic democratic liberalism, and socialism, have tried to facilitate the possibility of equality in different ways.  Nevertheless, each of these approaches fails to integrate the three kinds of love in a way that is needed for the authentic fulfillment of the human person.  Moreover, certainly none of them can facilitate friendship with God, or even desire to do so. 

In this paper, I will consider Wesley’s conception of the “political image” of human persons, and its relation to our “moral image,” as this is developed in his sermon “The New Birth.”  The moral image is characterized by our realization of God’s love for us and all creation, and by our willingness to allow this love to be carried through us to all creation.  In examining this connection between the moral and political image of human persons, I will briefly consider how Wesley’s theologically-oriented understanding of the relationship of love to politics fundamentally differs from the philosophical approaches of Aristotle, democratic liberalism, and socialism (in its materialist forms), each of which attempts to find a basis for love and/or equality within based purely on what Wesley would call the “natural image” of human beings.  Finally, I will demonstrate how the sacramental life of the Church is able to facilitate philia, along with its proper integration with eros and agape, between all human beings and between human beings and God, in a way that these purely philosophical models cannot.  This discussion will close with an initial consideration of the political and economic implications of this sacramental understanding of love.

 

            Section I:  Wesley and the Theological Foundations of Political Love

            Theodore Weber, in his book Politics and Salvation: Transforming Wesleyan Political Ethics , addresses Wesley’s distinction between the natural, political, and moral image of human beings.  I will consider first the “moral” condition.

The “moral image” refers to the human person’s proper, loving relationship with God.  In this condition, the person burns with the love of God and neighbor.  Presumably, in this relation, love in all three of its dimensions is perfected and realized.  One desires proper relation to God (an equality in proportion to humanity’s created state),[6] one desires to give oneself fully to God, and one desires to “possess” God within his or her own heart.  In experiencing God, the desire to give of oneself becomes natural, and through this, a peaceful equilibrium is attained.  Love flows in and out of the person graciously and naturally.  As Wesley writes in “The New Birth,” in this condition, human beings are truly in the image of God, who is love; here, the human person is “full of love,” and love is “the sole principle of all his thoughts, tempers, words, and actions.” 

Wesley states that this condition is lost in the Fall.  The particulars of this are not addressed, though one might surmise that it is this occurs through humanity’s desire to attain a disproportionate equality with God—an equality based not on receiving God Himself, or from giving oneself as God gives Himself, but in possessing something simply for oneself.  It may be simply that rather than desiring to experience God through creation—through everything else that was given to them in their Edenic condition—Adam and Eve desired to attain the forbidden fruit, and the knowledge it allegedly promised, for its own sake, as something to be desired without consideration of its relation to God.  

Indeed, if one properly thinks of something as created, by definition he or she is considering it in relation to God as the Creator.  Hence, to think of a thing apart from recognizing God’s relation to it is to forget the presence of God altogether (in that moment of thinking).  In this case, as Wesley states in his sermon “On Original Sin,” we have “[by] nature, no knowledge of God, no acquaintance with him” (sec. II,3).  This condition, Wesley adds, constitutes true atheism, because even as we grow in reason and come to assume the existence of a supreme being, we do not in this truly know God (II,3), and we certainly do not “love” him (II,5). 

Wesley goes on to say that in this lost true knowledge of God, men’s “atheism” is also a form of “idolatry” (II,7-9).  Where one does not think of God, then either the subject himself, or that upon which he thinks and desires, comes to be regarded as the “most desirable” thing, and thus assumes for that person the status of God.  Perhaps one may think of Adam and Eve’s initial awareness of their nakedness in the aftermath of their sin as representing the fact that, for the first time, they now became aware of themselves as existing apart from a recognition of God’s presence, which until then had served as a “covering of love” surrounding them.  A child does not feel shame at their nakedness before a parent, but as he or she grows more self-aware, he or she feels a great deal of shame appearing naked before a stranger.   Feeling vulnerable apart from this awareness, the first parents then exacerbated their alienation by hiding themselves from God, thereby deepening their sense of separation.  Some Eastern Fathers have even suggested that the long-term devastations of original sin may have been due more to this hiding, than to the initial disobedience of eating the fruit.

As Weber notes, Wesley holds that while the moral image is lost in the Fall, the natural and political image is not.[7]  The political nature of humanity refers specifically to human governance over the rest of creation, but also, to an extent, to the natural propensity of human beings to organize and develop their relationships with one another.  Weber indicates that it is not clear from Wesley whether human government is simply a postlapsarian necessity, or something which would have existed as a good even within the original created order.  Nevertheless, what is clear from Wesley is that our political nature is not merely an extension following from our natural innate capacities (such as reason, or socio-linguistic propensities, or whatever), but an image which can only be recognized in our relation to God as Creator.[8]  Simply put, our status as “governor” extends from the fact that we are the pinnacle of creation.

Weber suggests that the retention of the political image establishes a basis theologically for “drawing politics into the order of salvation,”[9] as well as for democratic and representative government.   Simply put, if the political image remains essential to all humans, in respect to their being created by God, then all human persons are called to a life of political involvement and governance (including stewardship and care of nature).[10]  He admits that this second conclusion contradicts Wesley’s own political stance, which was that of a staunch constitutional monarchist (on the condition that individual religious liberty be preserved),[11] but suggests that this may just show that Wesley was unable to accept the implications of his own theology. 

While Weber pushes for a democratic reading of Wesley, at the same time, he does not see Wesley as necessarily supporting for liberal economics.   As he sees it, Wesley might well be open to any number of economic structures, as long as they allowed for universal political participation and were flexible enough to meet human needs, especially of the poor, under various circumstances.  He mentions, for example, Wesley’s support in “On the Present Scarcity of Provisions,” for the heavy taxation, and even abolition, of certain “luxury items,” which in some cases are even sources of debauchery.  Private ownership is not ruled out, but it is not to be construed as a fundamental “right.”[12]  Rather, the key is stewardship; everything one has belongs to God, and what should given whatever one can to the poor.

Some scholars have confused Wesley’s denunciation of wealthy accumulation with an implicit call for the abolition of private property.  Theodore Jennings, for example, in true Marxist fashion proposes a Wesleyan economics of “Pentecostal communism”[13] where private property is equated with “theft.”[14]  Ironically, however, when he explains that Wesley defended monarchy over the pseudo-democracy of the American revolutionary “wannabe” aristocrats primarily because it better protected “human rights,” one of these protected goods listed by Wesley (which Jennings cites) includes the individual ownership of property![15]  

Christians with socialist sympathies often veer close to the logical error of assuming that if the accumulation of wealth implies a lack of Godliness [ W ) ~G ], then not only does Godliness imply a lack of wealth [ G, or ~~G, ) ~W ], which is logically equivalent, but also, illogically, that lack of wealth implies Godliness [ ~W ) G ].  Simply put, the lack of wealth may be a necessary condition of Godliness, but this does not make it a sufficient condition.  Thus, socialism alone does not necessarily produce Godly love any more than classical liberalism does.  One might argue that socialism at least produces one necessary ingredient for holiness, but the question is, what would produce this other factor (love of God)?  Unless love of God could somehow be guaranteed, which is impossible if love by definition cannot be coerced, then a liberal society allowing for voluntary surrender of wealth might well have the same prospects for producing love as a secular socialist society. 

Without favoring any particular form of government, Randy Maddox insightfully points out that Wesley’s strong view of prevenient grace would likely leave him open to the possibility that political structures can further the cause of holiness, even when they do not consciously intend this.[16]  However, this logic could apply to either liberalism or socialism.  Moreover, one would not want to conclude that any and all social systems are thereby justified on the grounds of prevenient grace, as some political systems clearly seem contrary to the divine command of love (e.g. Nationalist Socialism).  Maddox himself acknowledges that Wesley remained aware that universal sinfulness made it all to possible for “even good aspirations to be twisted to demonic results.”[17]     

While Wesley in numerous places warns of the dangers and injustice wrought by wealth, Manfred Marquardt appears to be correct in stating that, “Wesley nowhere disputes the right to private property,” though he “relativizes this right” by “demand[ing] obedience to God’s commandment to love for anyone laying claim to private property.”[18] (Weber essentially agrees, but correctly, I think, avoids the connotations of the word “rights.”)  In addition, Marquardt points out that Wesley criticizes wealth-accumulation in respect to the hoarding of lavish possessions, and the leaving of outlandish inheritances, and not at the practice of saving (provided that giving to the poor remains paramount).[19]  At the same time, those who take Wesley to be a proto-capitalist are also hard-pressed to support their conclusions, given his advocacy of heavy taxation and the outlawing of certain “free” enterprises.[20]     

I suspect that, apart perhaps from the unlikely case of a socialist theocracy (in which religious liberty was also protected), a mixed economic system, allowing for free enterprise but with socialist safeguards built in, would best fit the Wesleyan sociopolitical ideal.  Secular socialism would be undesirable in that in its case, the government could regulate wealth to an extent which would leave people with little left over to financially support the Church, which I argue in section 3 is the only alone instrument that is truly able to restore the moral, and hence proper political, image of humanity.  Consequently, in this same section I will contend that a main duty of government is to protect, and even encourage, the Church’s freedom to carry out its sacramental life and other works of mercy.  Contrary to a purely secular conception of government, where at most ecclesial life is protected as one “civic right” among others, on this view, government would not take the protection of this freedom to be its paramount task.  Along these lines, Weber lists “the maintenance [though not coercion] of true religion” as one of the legitimate functions of government for Wesley.[21]  It is useful to remember that the system of monarchy defended by Wesley formally considers the sovereign to be the Head of the Church of England.  Wesley never contested this,[22]  though his support for this policy is arguably ambivalent.[23]

With this framework in mind, what I wish to examine in greater detail throughout the remainder of this paper is the extent to which political attempts to engender philia are at best ineffective, and at worst may actually undermine the very theological foundation needed for such loving equality to actually be attained.  Much as Weber’s work touches on Aristotelian political anthropology, classical liberal notions of property rights, and socialistic procedures for carrying out the Gospel decree to serve the poor, I will examine the limitations of each of these approaches in facilitating a proper integration of eros (which I will define broadly as love experienced through concrete, physical dimensions), philia, and agape, either between human persons, or between humanity and God.  After this, I will show how the sacramental life of the Church is alone sufficient for achieving this integration.                         

 

Section II:  Philosophical Political Approaches to Egalitarian Love 

            A.  Aristotle

Aristotle’s conception of politics begins with the biological family.  Families are the first natural communities, and in the interest of human flourishing, relationships with extended relatives and others become practically necessary.  Ironically, however, the basic foundation of the family itself, the relationship between husband and wife, does not allow for philia, though an approximation of it may occur in the best circumstances.[24]  In a manner reflecting his hylomorphic understanding of the form/matter relation, the husband (if virtuous) is designed by nature to best serve the role of providing rational guidance to the household, while the wife largely focuses on the immediate material concerns of the home. 

For Aristotle, though, the highest kind of friendship is that based on an equality of virtue, with the greatest virtue being that of contemplation, in particular, the contemplation of first principles and of Prime Mover itself.  If women are necessarily less rational than at least the most rational of men, we must conclude that for him, the highest equality and friendship is not possible between husband and wife.  Perhaps a kind of equality could be attained in a sense that the woman provides erotic satisfaction for the husband, while he provides rational guidance for her and the children.  On this view, however, such equality would only exist as long as the woman did not also desire the husband erotically (since then she would need him for two things, and he would only need her for one).  I doubt either the husband or the wife would want an equality rooted in the wife’s lack of sexual attraction for her husband!  All things considered, then, it is clear that the husband must go outside of the home to attain true loving equality.

Right away, then, we see a breach between concrete ties of love, and those of philia.  Family is rooted at least in part on eros, which draws the man and woman together in the act of procreation.  Presumably, this desire is in part what explains the ongoing special concern family members have toward one another.  The force of biological ties is to be expected, once again in light of his hylomorphism.  This also explains his contention that private property is natural.[25]  Since people are particularly bound to their families, it is unrealistic to think that they could care for others equally (at least those who are not virtuous friends, which Aristotle believes cannot be produced by law or communal ownership of goods).[26]

Interestingly, for Aristotle, egalitarian love is exemplified by the man who admires another man for his admiration of the purely self-sufficient Prime Mover.  To be virtuous is to ponder how wonderful it would be to be eternally occupied only with one self, and to admire others who also spend as much of their time as possible pondering the same.   In the process, we almost take on the image of God: God constantly thinks Godself, and we aim to constantly think about what it is like to constantly think oneself.  For him, the friend is regarded as another “self” presumably in order to imitate God’s perfectly exclusionary self-relating.  Apparently, Aristotle’s ideal man has the mental acumen of Einstein and the self-reliant machismo of Eastwood, minus the companionship of an orangutan or a gun. 

On the Aristotelian understanding of love, agape barely enters into the picture, if at all.  God loves nothing outside of Itself, though there may be traces of agape in his notion that in the process of self-thinking, God does sustain the processes of the natural world (albeit unknowingly).  In human relationships, one might find hints of agape in two places.  One, the person who exceeds another in virtue may, out of sheer generosity, give to another, in hopes presumably of raising him to a higher degree of virtue. One of the reasons Aristotle defends private property and opposes socialism is that this virtue of gracious giving is logically precluded by a system which ensures that nobody privately owns anything in the first place which they could voluntarily share with another.[27]

Secondly, and more profoundly, is the occasion of one who exceeds even virtue by exercising “heroic goodness” in giving his life for another.[28]  Such an act exceeds virtue because it is not done for the sake of self-fulfillment, and in this sense, almost seems irrational on Aristotle’s scheme.  And yet, Aristotle cannot help but stand in reverence to such action, though puzzled by it, he tells us that a person who acts in such a way is not to be praised for his virtue, since he has been chosen by the Gods to perform this inexplicable deed, perhaps even outside of his own free will.  One may speculate as to whether such sacrifice is conceivable for woman, in which case, perhaps, there can be by divine fiat an equality of the sexes in respect to agape.  Certainly, however, this is something which would not be expected to accounted for in political and legal structures.

B. Democratic Liberalism

In contrast to Aristotle’s communitarianism, liberal democracy attempts to achieve equality through equality under the law.  While those dedicated to the Social Gospel, as Wesleyans historically have been, undoubtedly wince at the individualistic and self-interested tones of liberalism, the fact is this philosophy borrows from the soil of Judeo-Christian Scripture to justify its presuppositions.  John Locke, for example, emphasizes that a right to private property is logically derived from the fact that God gave the Earth to each human being “to enjoy.”[29]  The communitarianism of Aristotle, by contrast, is more realistic in placing property rights in the care of the family (without which no individual, Adam and Eve perhaps excepted, would exist).  However, for him, the Earth is eternal—it is by no means a gift from God, who cannot even think of it, let alone create it and love it. 

As it turns out, the liberal error comes in the selective reading of Scripture.  Let us remember, in light of Wesley’s understanding of the political image, that such self-interest represents a governance distorted by the Fall.  Whereas the liberal Locke places a “right” to “private property,” given by God, in the need to sustain life, Genesis actually tells us that the toil associated with sustenance was not part of the “state of creation (nature),” but a condition of the Fall.  Adam was given a labor in the original creation, but it was a labor of love, not to be mistaken with the drudgery of self-sustenance.  Specifically, he was called to name the animals.   This activity truly recognizes his relationship to God, if one thinks, for example, in terms of St. Maximus the Confessor, of this naming arising from a pure grasping of the logoi of created things, which exists as real reflections of the love of the divine Logos.[30] 

The equality of Adam and Eve was one of true co-operators, and not that borne of Nietzschean resentment, as we see in the Cain’s murder of Abel.  Equality was rooted in neither a socialist denial of personal differentiation, nor in a Hobbesian survival rooted in the barbaric hedonism of the hoi polloi.   Rather, it was rooted in the mutual love of unique persons, given life through the inspiration of God.  Overall, liberalism is unable to produce philia, as it at best produces a “friendship” and “equality” based, as Aristotle would put it, on pleasure and utility.[31]  Here, there is no intrinsic concern for the other person, but only a self-interest awareness that the “rights” of the other person must be respected if mine are to be respected.  Equality, and thus philia and eros alike, are moved from the realm of concrete experience, and “abstractionalized.”  “Philia” and “equality” are pursued through the purely abstract, formal structures of law.  The emphasis on “right” over “giving” encourages a purely erotic desire for consuming impersonal objects, or regarding real persons as such.     

                  C.  Socialism  

In contrast to democratic liberalism, socialism attempts a real, concrete relation, but attempts to achieve it through the impersonal relation of “economic equality.”  If anything, here philia and agape are not properly mitigated by eros, which is necessary for remaining to some extent an authentic self.  That is not to say that being an authentic self requires the self-interested eroticized consumerism, but it is to say that one cannot merely “lose” oneself in the “collective.”  To have authentically personal relations, the concrete uniqueness of personhood, both for the lover and the loved, must be preserved.  Once again, philia is to be achieved by the equal and simultaneous desire to give completely to the other, and to graciously receive them in their otherness.  

For Marxism, where physical differentiation (and thus psychological differentiation, which is for it its offshoot) remains, alienation remains.  In fact, for Marx, it appears there is never a truly personal consciousness, but only a transition from class consciousness in bourgeois society to collective consciousness in the communist utopia.  In fact, in class society, Marx regards the individual as possessing a self-alienated consciousness divided between individual consciousness and consciousness of onself as merely a class being.[32]  To overcome this, the consciousness of the individual is to be absorbed by the consciousness of the collective.[33]  This is not a question of overcoming alienation through relation, but of overcoming alienation through self-annihilation.  Here, the ever-cynical Hobbes strikes a blow for individualism.  As he sees it, the primacy of the individual is irrevocable if for no other reason that the fact that the predominant psychological motive for all of us is the deeply personal desire to avoid bodily death.[34]  Presumably, this would make the individual avoid such an “absorption” into the collective; as Hobbes might say, better an estranged individual existence than none at all! 

In addition, socialism logically precludes charity (even if this absorption-of-self may be initiated by a kind of “agapic” impulse), as “charity” cannot occur where distinctions between “others” has been annihilated.  The concept of God is decried, insofar as God would, if He existed, be incorrigibly other.[35]  Accordingly, God must be replaced by the collective.  Of course, this may not be any worse than in liberalism, where God is not replaced by a social abstraction, but by a concrete, self-absorbed self.[36]

Family, as concretely differentiated from the rest of humanity, must also be lost in the collective.  The consequences of this, as Aristotle foresaw, are devastating.  Especially from the Christian theological point of view, family is where the difference-in-unity is most immediately experienced in the concrete.  It is where personhood without alienation can be most achieved.  By contrast, classic socialism has famously marriage as a device of bourgeois oppression.[37] One can only surmise that in an ideal world, gender itself would be abolished, along with private property.  With the complementary-difference-within-unity of the family destroyed, the collective becomes essentially the materialist equivalent of Aristotle’s solitary God; it is something like “pure labor sustaining itself.”  

         Section III:  The Sacramental Basis of Love

Finally, we arrive at the picture of how the sacramental life alone is sufficient to overcome the limitations of the various purely political approaches to friendship and equality.  In creation itself, God exercises agape.  But even here, there are elements of philia, as all creation reflects the truth of the Logos, especially humankind.  In the incarnation, this integration of agape and philia is perfected; God becomes flesh so that we can become united to Him, and with one another, through His Eucharistic flesh.  In this consummation, we also find the truth of eros.  God reaches out to us in agape, hoping to draw us back to Him through eros, so that we may attain philia with Him, and with one another.  It is misleading, however, to suggest that God is “moved” or “affected” by this process, in the sense that He is passive.  Because He pours Himself out to us, He is not “moved” but actively giving.  In drawing us back, He raises us up to Himself, but is not changed by us. 

Put differently, our response does not change God, because He will continue to pour Himself out, and seduce us back to Himself, regardless of what we do.  This reminds us of Wesley’s notion of prevenient grace, which is necessarily present.  Our decision as to whether or not we will allow this offer to renew us determines the extent to which we are affected by this love, but God’s love endureth forever.  It is in a sense therefore equally misguided to say that God is “immutable” (as though He were static) or that He is “moved”(as though He were passive).  He is dynamic love.  He is pure gift giving itself.

The model of family remains integral, insofar as it reflects the Trinitarian life.  Through-and-through, nonetheless, the unity we have to one another, and to God, is through the sacramental life.  The erotic relation of marriage is sanctioned by the Church, and the birth of the offspring of that union into the Church is sanctified through baptism.  The Church gives marriage to the couple, and the couple gives back to the Church.  In this way, Trinity is always reflected.  

Nevertheless, just as concrete marriage is a foretaste of the Heavenly Wedding Feast, it is still in itself a real part of the Church.  Similarly, we should assume that even though even though Christ’s injunction to “feed My sheep” ultimately points to this Heavenly Feast, it is also a genuine command to respond to earthly needs of hunger and basic sustenance.  After all, the loaves and fishes may have foreshadowed a miraculous Eucharistic multiplication, but they also fed hungry people.  Likewise, the life of the Church has genuine political implications, not because of the primacy of politics, but because all reality is subsumed under the Flesh and Blood of the Lamb.  This is well expressed in the words of Pope Benedict XVI, cited on the blog of the beloved Rev. Dr. John Wright of Point Loma University:

In my prayers at communion I must, on the one hand, look totally toward Christ, allowing myself to be transformed by him and, as needed, to be consumed in the fire of his love. But precisely for this reason I must always realize also that he joins me in this way with every other communicant—with the one next to me, whom I may not like very much; but also with those who are far away, whether in Asia, Africa, America, or some other place. By becoming one with them, I must learn to open myself toward them and to become involved in their situations. This is the test of the authenticity of my love for Christ.Whenever I am united with Christ, I am also united with my neighbor, and this unity does not end at the communion / rail; rather, it is just beginning there. It comes alive, becomes flesh and blood, in the everyday experience of being with others and standing by others. Thus the individual element in my going to communion is inseparably interwoven with my membership in the Church and my dependence upon her life (p. 117-8). Thus, "It is when the Eucharist is understood in the full intimacy of the union of each individual with the Lord that it automatically becomes also a social sacrament in the highest degree" (p. 118).[38]

 The human person, therefore, is not forced to abandon self-consciousness, as Marx laments, in order to enter into awareness of God.  Just as God is the loving relationship of Three Persons, the human person retains his or her unique personality while also realizing the interpersonal presence of the Divine which surrounds him or her.  By comparison,  two objects differentiated in space can only be distinguished by reference to an emptiness between them.  In this way, one can only avoid alienation by refusing to acknowledge the existence of anything beyond oneself, in which case one lives in the delusion of being infinite—of being God—or one acknowledges his or her distinction from others, and is left with assuming the “emptiness” between them as ineradicable component of his or her own self-awareness.  In this case, one’s self-awareness involves an awareness of the self’s negation.  Where one regards oneself as surrounded by an infinite presence, however, one regards oneself as being with the other, while still being distinct from the other, without any self-negating self-awareness. 

This presence—one might say love—fills in the empty places, and overcomes all emptiness.  It is only through the awareness of God, then, allows one to retain his or her unique identity, while being aware through God of all other things without suffering self-negation.  Our awareness of the rest of creation itself reflects the Trinity; I know myself, I know the rest of creation as other, and yet I know us without alienation through the infinite presence of God which brings us into mutual awareness without self-negation. 

The Trinitarian image thus perfects certain insights of Aristotle, liberalism, and socialism, while avoiding their pitfalls.  Like Aristotle, in Trinitarian life, each divine Person sees the other as a genuine self, but also as a genuine Other.  Likewise, in the Church, every individual retains while his or her personal uniqueness while also becoming bound to both human persons and the Persons of the Trinity sacramentally, especially through Eucharist. 

It is by now evident that the Church alone, through the sacraments, is able to respond to the depths of human needs—to provide the integration of all three dimensions of love—and in so doing, promote political life which can accommodate, though not initiate, this realization.  Of course, it does not seem likely that a government which does not presuppose Christian truth will be willing to grant the Church this status.  In what way, then, can the Church carry on its task as it must if its love is to be realized within society? 

One way is for Christians themselves to make an effort to pursue positions of political influence, though primarily with the goal of assuring the Church of the opportunity to freely perform its sacred service.  At the same time, since the Church alone is in a position to perfect this service of love, the main concern of Christians should be to apply a prophetic accountability within the Church Herself, and only secondarily to implore the government to act in a way which facilitates love (apart from protecting the Church’s freedom to do this, which remains a primary responsibility of government).  Wesley’s own message is certainly directed mainly at those who already profess belief, and even Jennings, as one who offers a more leftist-leaning interpretation of Wesley, spends more time excoriating the Methodist community for its shortcomings, than critiquing those of other denominations, or outside of the faith altogether.   

With this in mind, some kind of “church-separation” is essential not so much to “protect” the Church from the “state,” nor to protect “the state’ from the “undue political influence” of the Church.  Rather, a distinction is needed so that room is assured within the Church for holding Her accountable to Her call to perfect love, apart from the silencing power of the civic law.  Certainly, the Church should always exercise Her responsibility to “cut off” false prophets from Her communion. Even then, it is good to allow dissenting voices to be heard within society, so that the authentic prophets, when they are truly needed, are not silenced absolutely. 

In light of the above observations, the Wesleyan theological-political vision I espouse is one similar to that described by Vladimir Soloviev in his second Lecture on “Divine Humanity”:    

    . . . The kingdom of the world must be made subordinate to the kingdom of God. . . .

But what manner of subordination is meant, and by what methods and means is it to

be realized?. . . .[ I]f God is acknowledged in Christianity to be love, reason, and

free spirit, then all coercion and slavery, every blind and dark faith, are thereby excluded.

The subordination of the principles of the world to the divine principle must be voluntary;

this subordination must be attained through the inner power of the subordinating principle.

       . .  [T]he Church, should subordinate secular society to itself by raising it up to itself, by                                                                                        

       spiritualizing it, by making the secular instrument its means, its body.  Then the external unity would    

       appear by itself, as a natural result.[39]

Soloviev intends this partly as a contrast of traditional Orthodoxy, where theocratic societies largely emerged as a natural result of the expression of the cultural consciousness of the people, and medieval Catholicism, where the Church allegedly involves itself in political struggles with civil authorities in order to overpower them through force of law and political maneuvering.  It may be that Wesley envisions the Church of England in his time in the former sense, and thereby does not see the role of the monarchy as incompatible, in principle, with religious liberty.  It is harder to say how this approach can be incorporated into a contemporary democracy predominated by ecclesial (and even religious) pluralism.  The question is also raised as to what extent the Church can sustain this task apart from (I would argue) the fullness of the Apostolic tradition, though evidence of such transformation can be found in parts of the Second and Third World.[40]  Perhaps it can, and has, been accomplished through ecumenism, though in this case, the Church must take care not to allow itself to achieve unity trough a compromise of Her full sacramental and apostolic mission.  It may be an indictment against Christians in America that this transformation is often sought more through influence of law rather than through the hard work of bringing “separated brethren” into true, uncompromising unity, which is ultimately the only effective way to inspire authentic social transformation.[41]      

In closing, sacramental love perfects what is true in each of three political models considered here, while overcoming their limitations.  Like communitarianism, the concrete, erotic tie of family is central, but in a way which allows this relation to be extended to all without the dissipation of this original biological tie, as in the case of socialism.  As in liberalism, sacramental friendship comes from a free, uncoerced association.  However, rather than being formally ordered by law, loving equality is achieved by sacramental love flowing from a concrete (erotic) foundation, offered from and returned to God in real agape.  Finally, in the sacramental life, the socialist goal of real material unity of class and consciousness is met.  Unlike in socialism, however, this is not sought, impossibly, through self-annihilating, deterministic economic structures, but through society being invited to freely enter into, via the sacraments, the very life of the divine economy itself.  When this becomes the loving desire of all Christians, we can indeed sing, with Charles Wesley, “Hearken to me with earnest care/and freely eat substantial food/. . . Come taste the manna of my love/And let your souls in delight in me.”[42]