Agape love is a spontaneous and generous love that is self-giving to the point of being self-sacrificial. Gracious, faithful, and enduring - agape is most like the love God sheds upon us in Christ and through the Spirit.

In his book, Love, Human and Divine, Edward Vacek distinguishes between three types of love - agape, philia (friendship love) and eros (romantic love) - "by asking 'for the sake of' whom we are loving. We love our beloved for the sake of the beloved (agape), or for our own sake (eros), or for the sake of a "friendship" we share with them (philia)."[1] He emphasizes that the "distinction lies in our intention, in the meaning the act has for us, not in any results of the act."[2] While philia is love for the sake of nurturing a mutual relationship and eros is love for the sake of fulfilling the self, agape is love for the sake of the good of the beloved.

Defining Agape

Agape is love for the sake of the good of the beloved. It is love offered in spite of the attractiveness or repulseness of the beloved (see Romans 5:6-8 and Titus 3:3-7). It is love given without regard to one's feelings of personal fulfillment or need to establish a reciprocal relationship. Agape is freely given with no thought of repayment, and therefore it cannot be earned. The Christian term used to describe such a transaction is "grace".

Because agape is painted in such stark and stoic terms, we often forget that agape love is truly love. As love, it does involve a cognitive and emotional valuing of the other, for this is at the heart of love. Edward Vacek writes,

Love is an emotional cognition directed toward the whole value of the beloved. We love the beloved in all its goodness that is, in all the good that it is and can be. Hence, love is directed to the fullness of value possible to the beloved. In general terms, love is an emotional, affirming participation in the dynamic tendency of an object to realize its fullness.[3]

Love affirms the beloved for what he or she is and for what he or she can become. In other words, love considers both the real and potential goodness of the other.

Part of that "goodness" is the beloved's capacity for a relationship with God:

Love's creativity both affirms what already is and suggests that the very essence of the object is apt for as yet unimagined possibilities, above all, the possibility of fulfilling its inexhaustible destiny of being fully in relation to God. Something new comes to be in the redemptive movement of love. Through divine love, all objects are not merely what they are in themselves; they also have the further potential to be elevated into a holy relationship with human beings and ultimately with God.[4]

Agape love is love that seeks the good of the beloved. Agape believes in the possibility and potential of this good in spite of all evidence to the contrary. Such faith is not easy to carry, and thus, agape love is defined first and foremost as a suffering love ("Love is patient" 1 Corinthians 13:4). It maintains hope for the beloved's good in spite of all obstacles ("Love bears all things, believes all things, endures all things, hopes all things. Love never fails" 1 Corinthians 13:7-8a).

The good of the beloved is not completely open-ended. If we love another, we recognize that there are some things that the beloved may do or desire that oppose his or her good. Our expression of agape should promote the good of the beloved. Agape "does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth" (1 Corinthians 13:6).

We are not indifferent to the wishes of the other, but we don't have to identify with his or her wishes, or capitulate to his or her every whim. Doing so may very well be contrary to their good or to our good in loving them. This keeps agape from descending to slavish exploitation. As Vincent Brummer reminds us, "Loving you does not necessarily imply that 'your every wish is my command.'"[5] Even God does not readily capitulate to our every wish:

As a lover of humanity, God is angered by everything that oppresses people, everything that is disordered in the world. As a lover of our selves, God opposes the ways we destroy ourselves through sin. God's love resists and, where possible, overcomes evil. It resists oppression, but this resistance is in the service of enabling people to live. God's love promotes those structures that promote human flourishing, and it works against those structures that denigrate it.[6]

Agape is no less than treating others the way God treats us in Christ. Unlike eros (and most acts that go by the name of "love" in our contemporary world), agape love is not about feeling good but doing good - treating people as God has treated to us in Christ.

It is this kind of love with which we love those who are most unlovely to us - our enemies. Jesus taught,

"Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the 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." (Matthew 5:46-47)

Agape forces us to recognize that even our enemy is a creature made in God's image, with potential for good. Even more, our enemy is still our neighbor. The Reformer, Martin Luther, who had plenty of enemies in his time, wrote, "Even one who has done me some sort of injury or harm has not shed his humanity on that account or stopped being flesh and blood, a creature of God very much like me; in other words, he does not stop being my neighbor."

Characteristics of Agape

In his masterful work on love, Edward Vacek highlights three characteristics of agape love: "it is spontaneous and generous; it is self-giving to the point of being self-sacrificial; and it is faithful."[7] Let's explore each of these in order.

First, agape love is spontaneous and generous. Agape love goes beyond the law - whether secular or religious. It is greater than "righteousness" and goes beyond justice:

Love goes beyond set boundaries. ... It rebels against a too well-ordered and controlled world. It rebels against bourgeois contentment and smugness. It eventually gets bored by a devotion without depth or extravagance. The dynamism of love disturbs the moderation that Greek-oriented humanists set up as the cultured ideal.[8]

Agape's reckless expression has little to do with moderation or calculating the costs:

The calculating person would never leave the ninety-nine for the one lost sheep (Mt 18:12). Agape forgives seventy times seven (Mt 18:22). It serves even unto its own death (Mt 20:28). The boundlessness of such love, its heedlessness of self, its prodigality in pouring itself out for the neighbor without counting the costs is undeniable as we read its character on the pages of the New Testament.[9]

Vacek concludes by writing, "Like Jesus, the saints do not simply calculate goods and evils. Rather their love often has a reckless quality to it. Living beyond minimum standards."[10]

For this reason, agape cannot be reduced to stoic "equal regard" for all. It goes far beyond this minimal definition.

Agape's boundlessness seldom appears in many theologies of agape. The term "equal regard" seems itself minimalistic and calculating, even if that is not what is intended. It does not do justice to the more expansive moments of agape. Rather agape follows no set rule in its willingness to go the extra mile (Mt 5:41) or to contribute one's last two coins (Mk 12:41-44). What one would not demand of others flows freely from one's self.[11]

Agape's boundlessness and spontaneity refuse to be held to minimal standards, and therefore cannot be contained in any expression of law, no matter how righteous.

Thus, agape's spontaneous generosity flows from loyalty and devotion. The "strenuous teachings" of Matthew 5:38-42 should be seen, not as laws, but as examples of this spontaneity: we loan without interest to all who want to borrow and seek out people who might want to beg from us; when anyone sues us for whatever reason, we not only give them whatever they seek, but add something extra for their effort; we do not use violence against the violent.[12]

Agape goes beyond the law and must not be equated with "justice." Agape goes beyond justice. Justice is this: "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" (Matthew 5:38-49). Contrary to conventional wisdom, this is a statement of justice. The punishment fits the crime. But Jesus takes us beyond justice to the "greater righteousness" (Matthew 5:20), a way of life that accords with God's spontaneous, generous, and reckless love.

Vacek rightly points out the confusion that occurs when we attempt to legislate "agape" love. "Turned into laws, however, these exhortations would make social life impossible. ... Yielding to every legal suit and giving our goods away to everyone who asks, whether they are poor or rich, would soon make society a lawless place and leave most of us unable to function."[13]

Second, agape is self-giving to the point of being self-sacrificial. The greatest demonstration and ultimate model of agape is the cross of Christ:

God's love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. (1 John 4:9-11)

Jesus calls us to follow his way of the cross: "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it" (Luke 9:23-24). Likewise, Paul exhorts us to "be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you, and gave himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma" (Ephesians 5:1-2).

Clearly, God calls us to cruciform lives of self-giving service. This is the essence of discipleship, as Stanley Hauerwas poignantly expresses in this interaction he had with a parishioner who approached him following a religious service. The parishioner said,

"I follow Jesus... up to a point."

"Could that point by any chance be--the cross?"

"That's right. I follow him to the cross, but not ON the cross. I'm not getting myself crucified."

"Then I don't believe you're a disciple. You're an admirer of Jesus, but not a disciple of his. I think you ought to go back to the church you belong to, and tell them you're an admirer not a disciple."[14]

In the spirit of Christ who regularly says to us, "This is my body, given for you" (Luke 22:19), we willingly sacrifice ourselves for the sake of others. Indeed,

when radical love is intense enough the lover's affirmation can be so completely given over to the beloved as to affirm the latter's being at the cost of the lover's own." The testimony of the secular and sacred saints is that at our best we have a profound desire to give ourselves over to something larger than ourselves; we are even willing to sacrifice our life for that object of our devotion.[15]

Vacek continues,

Any understanding of agape must include some place for the foolishness of the cross, the heroics of the battlefield, or the reckless daring required to rescue damsels in distress. ... The watchword is, "I want you to live fully." The lover's life, on occasion, becomes so absorbed in devotion to the beloved that there is no counting the costs.[16]

Put simply, agape says to the beloved, "My life - the most precious possession I have to give - for yours."

As noble as the expression of agape love is, Vacek calls us to a much needed balance: There is more to love than agape. Agape alone is not sufficient for a good society or for a healthy, well-balanced Christian life. "As a universal principle, self-sacrifice is self-contradictory. That is, if two persons each acted always self-sacrificially toward one another, neither could act self-sacrificially. Each would insist on holding the door open for the other, and thus neither would enter."[17]

He continues,

By analogy, if God loves us, God wants us to live, and this living is not a matter of constant self-sacrifice, but rather of many acts of self-realization. Hence, God does not want us constantly to sacrifice ourselves, though, of course, on occasion this may be just what is required. Jesus did not endlessly sacrifice himself. He often lived moderately, sometimes even festively, until "the hour had come for him to pass from this world" (Jn 13:1).[18]

Vacek reminds us that self-sacrifice was not the constant expression of Jesus during his earthly ministry:

The image of Jesus who came to serve is an image of a man who made the supreme sacrifice of his life. Still, he did so only once. He allowed time for prayer, for feasting, for speaking his heart to those he called friends. Surely there were in Israel at the time (not to mention in the whole world) many people who could have used his cloak; there were many who could have used his company for an extra mile. There were many people he could have healed, but he did not.[19]

It is our wisdom to strike the right balance between agape, eros, and philia.

Finally, agape is faithful: "The reason why agape is in principle the most enduring love is that its existence is not conditional on some return to us, on its success in fostering the beloved's good, or on some mutual relation with the beloved. We may sit long, seemingly pointless hours beside the bed of a sick stranger."[20] Because agape is expressed for the sake of the beloved, "this love remains firm even when the beloved rejects the lover. The 'Lord loves the people of Israel, though they turn to other gods' (Hosea 3:1)."[21] With tenacious loyalty, "agape says that 'no matter what you do or become, I will love you.' Agape's permanence is fidelity to the beloved which, though it changes in time, still is the same beloved."[22]

When the fiery passion or eros diminishes and the possibility of philia grows distantment, agape is the fuel that keeps love burning. It remains faithful in the midst of all circumstances. Nothing can thwart its expression. It has the power to withstand, endure, and shine through all things.

When eros diminishes and philia grows distant, agape shines eternal.

Walk Worthy

Agape goes beyond the law, beyond justice, and beyond conventional standards of righteousness. It cannot be legislated. It cannot be demanded or forced; it must be freely given. It is, in every sense of the word, a high calling (see 1 Thess. 2:12; Ephesians 4:1; Colossians 1:10).

We in the Christian community must call ourselves to this higher standard, this "greater righteousness" (Matthew 5:20) - the very righteousness of God. We would be naïve to expect this kind of love from the world, and therefore we should not be too hard on it, but rather, approach and embrace it with grace and mercy.

However, we should be hard on ourselves. Though we may not demand that the unbelieving world "go the second mile" "those in the community of believers may be intelligibly harder on themselves and so reproach one another for not going the second mile as well."[23] Outka continues, "Let the duties required for a tolerable society be defended on publically intelligible grounds, applicable to believer and nonbeliever alike. But let each person within the community exhort others to go the second mile, without reproaching anyone other than himself, inside or outside, for failure."[24]

According to Jesus, agape love is the distinguishing mark of the church: "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:34-35). We do not allow the errors and excesses of others to excuse our own behavior. We do not allow our feelings to prevent us from treating people right. We practice the discipline - and it is indeed a discipline - of agape love. This will keep us busy enough without having to condemn others:

Love in essence is not a matter of how we feel about people, but how we treat them... It can be said with confidence at the outset, and also at any subsequent stage on the road, that learning to love all the different sorts of people whom God sends across our path, in all the different sorts of situations he shapes up for us and them, is going to prove the hardest discipline we shall ever face.[25]

In order to live this way, we must "deny self and take up our cross daily and follow Christ. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it" (Luke 9:23-24). This way of life will directly oppose our self-centeredness, but it will also, at the same time, open us to new life, God's life. Above all other expressions of love, agape allows us to transcend ourselves for the good of others. It exposes our selfishness and draws us out of our shells to love others, no matter what it takes.

In the process, the ruined shell of our self-centered illusion is shattered. This is painful, but also redemptive, for through the purifying process of sanctifying grace, we are created anew in the image of Christ, the king of agape, and the lord of life.

"As the Ruin Falls" by C. S. Lewis

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love - a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

---

© Richard J. Vincent, 2008