Virtue Quest

Today, Ash Wednesday, begins the season of Lent in the Catholic Church. It’s a season of prayer and fasting and almsgiving, imitating Christ’s forty days in the desert, and preparing to celebrate his passion and resurrection at Easter.

Some Christian traditions, such as the Orthodox, have a very strict discipline for Lent. We Catholics have it fairly light in terms of required discipline: two days of actual fasting – Ash Wednesday and Good Friday – and no meat on any Fridays. But we’re encouraged to take on other penances ourselves.

So, here’s how I’m going about the whole Lenten thing.

Prayer, Fasting, Almsgiving

Prayer is the foundation and the heart of Lent. But not just any prayer. It’s a prayer of testing. Jesus went into the desert to be tested, so this prayer is for strength and endurance in the face of testing, in the face of temptation. It’s also a prayer of abandonment to God. It’s giving him permission to test me, and to challenge me in ways I haven’t necessarily planned for.

So, I’m taking up an old form of prayer: the Liturgy of the Hours. I’ve prayed this way before, and I’ve taken a break from it for a little while. But it’s very appropriate for Lent because it constantly recalls me to the very basics of my dependence on God.

As for fasting, I’m going to give up salty snacks (like chips and peanuts and such) as well as desserts at home. These are things that I really do long for, that I’ll notice are gone from my diet, and that will remind me that “man does not live on bread alone.” And that’s the main point of fasting: to rely on God’s care at a fundamental level. I don’t make my own food. God, ultimately, is the one who feeds me.

Also, on the not-so-foodlike-stuff level, I’m giving up computer games. I enjoy the heck out of them, but they too easily distract me from what’s truly important in life.

I’ll be honest: I don’t quite know what to do about almsgiving. I do make regular charitable donations from my income. I probably could devote a bit more money to it, but I don’t have all that much to give. So I’ve been thinking about doing some kind of volunteer work. I know there’s plenty that needs doing. Just not quite sure where to focus.

If you have any ideas, I’m open to them. I figure I’ll talk it through with my spiritual director when I next see him.

In any case, giving alms is like the other two Lenten disciplines: it forces me to put my trust in God. Not only that I can make do with less, but that God can give great things to others through me.

I don’t know how many of my readers celebrate Lent, but if you want to share what you’re doing, I think it would make great conversation in the comments box!

I suppose Valentine’s day is as good a time as any to talk about lust.

The other day, I was working with a client who happened to be a good-looking woman about my age, and I found myself tripping over my words trying to be witty, trying to impress her, wondering how I could shift the conversation away from professional topics and toward more … intimate sharing.

I also made a greater-than-average number of typos. And I completely forgot about the main question she’d come to resolve. So I had to scramble to correct a fairly major error. And she walked away, doubtless thinking me a fool.

Such are the wages of lust.

The difference between love and lust

The thing about my actions and reactions is that they really had nothing to do with her. They had to do with my response to her physical appearance. That’s the core of lust: it clings to the surface and cannot survive at any depth at all. This is because lust is all about pleasing the senses – both the physical senses, like sight and touch, and the psychological senses, like self-esteem and emotions.

Love, on the other hand, considers the other person first and foremost as a person. It doesn’t disregard the surface or the appearance, but it seeks the fulness of life that animates that surface, that expresses that appearance. Love also recognizes that the other person is looking back, is seeing the appearance that I show. So love reflects the beauty and goodness it sees back to the beloved. Love treats the other person as someone to be served, not as an object that serves my desires.

Love as a virtue

Love has many levels and kinds and degrees. I love my friends. I love my mother. I love my neighbor. If I had a sweetheart, I would love her. These all are different kinds of love, and some loves are “greater” or “stronger” than others.

But what they all have in common is that they seek what is good in the one I love. When love finds something good in someone, it rejoices. When it finds a lack of good, it tries to help or remedy that lack. But love always focuses on the good of the other.

And that takes practice: sometimes, the good in another is not all that obvious. My brother and I are so different, that I spent several years just trying to avoid him, because I couldn’t see anything good in him. For that matter, a spouse’s annoying habit, or a friend’s inconvenient imposition, or even just one’s own bad mood can blind us to what is good in those we love.

At times like that, I’ve found the best thing to do is stop, look at the person, and look specifically for any little thing to appreciate. It will always be there, if you’re willing to search for it.

Siobhan asked me if I was ever going to write about anything besides prudence. My short answer is, yes-and-no.

The long answer is that, the way I see it, writing about any one of the virtues really entails writing about them all. Every virtue implies every other, ultimately. The names are simply a matter of focus.

… from a certain point of view…

As far as I know, this approach to virtue is something I made up on my own, so I welcome anybody to correct or refine what I’m saying here.

It seems to me that the virtues are not exactly separate things from each other, but distinct aspects of a virtuous action.

So, any given action – for example, eating a bowl of ice cream (one of my favorite actions!) – can be seen from the perspective of prudence, or justice, or fortitude, or temperance. For that matter, you can look at it from the point of view of faith, or hope, or love.

My thinking is still a bit muddy, but I find the cardinal virtue / theological virtue distinction to be valuable here, showing two major lenses to use in looking at actions.

Cardinal virtues

So, in deciding about eating a bowl of ice cream, one can ask whether it is prudent. That is, is eating ice cream really a good thing for me in my current situation?

One can also ask, is it temperate? That is, are my desires within me in harmony with the truth and facts I’ve prudently discovered? Or, is it courageous? That is, must I overcome obstacles in order to achieve the good that I have prudently discovered?

Finally, one acts. And one asks, is this action just? That is, am I pursuing good in accordance with reality, opposing my false desires and overcoming obstacles?

So, prudence discovers the good; fortitude and temperance clear the way to pursuing that good, one by overcoming external obstacles and the other by opposing internal disorders; and justice acts to pursue the good. All the virtues collaborate in the process of taking action, and any given action is virtuous to the extent that it conforms to all the cardinal virtues.

Theological virtues

I see the theological virtues as a kind of parallel. Faith discovers the good – not merely relying on my own reason, but trusting in the testimony of others. Hope clears the path to the good by putting false desires and external obstacles in proper perspective. And love acts for the good, even by laying down one’s life for one’s beloved.

So the theological virtues build upon the cardinal virtues and express them, not merely from my own individual and human perspective, but from a higher perspective, even a divine perspective.

What about the ice cream?

I understand that the greatest question here may be, “Yeah, but did you eat the ice cream?”

How could you be in any doubt? Ice cream is a form of pure concentrated goodness.

Of course I ate the ice cream!

An article – really more of an advertisement – on Psychology Today’s blog makes a great recommendation:

Why not commit to making love your New Year’s Resolution?

Of course, their idea of “love” is saying “I love you” to your spouse at least once a day. That’s hardly a bad thing but, as we all know, actions speak much louder than words.

More than a feeling

Almost everyone I’ve ever talked to about love starts by remarking that love is an action, not a feeling. I mostly agree, but I think it’s important to remember that love is intimately involved with feelings. At the very least, it’s much easier to take the actions of love when one feels the affections of love.

But love is not merely a result of our feelings; it can also be a cause of our feelings. I’ve noticed that, when I interact with … how do I put this gently? … people to whom I have little immediate attraction, I have to consciously decide to act lovingly toward them. No surprise there; I suspect most of us do. But, as so many advocates of volunteering point out, I find I often receive more than I give when I choose to give love in difficult situations.

The greatest gift I receive is insight into what is good, what is lovable, in this person – the person I at first had little or no inclination to love.

In other words, by acting from love, I begin to feel affection. There’s no real dichotomy between acts of love and feelings of love; ideally, they reinforce one another.

Love and charity and sexy sexy sex

What I just said above sounds very noble and “Christian.” And, in many ways, it is. But another false dichotomy is between this “charitable” love and what I’ll call “romantic” or “erotic” love. You know, LUV! Valentine’s Day love. “C’mon over here, baby!” love.

Do these really have anything in common?

Josef Pieper, whose book Faith, Hope, Love I’ve just finished reading, suggests that there are two things that all forms of love (including charity, erotic love, friendship, and so on) all have in common: First, affirmation; and second, union.

Affirmation means seeing, acknowledging, delighting in, and making known the beloved’s good. So, if you love chocolate, you delight in its flavor. If you love your spouse, you delight in his or her personality and body – and, moreover, you delight to remind him or her of your joy.

Union means participating in that goodness that you affirm. Again, if you love chocolate, then you unite that chocolate to your taste buds. And if you love your spouse, you make yourself a part – a participant – of his or her whole life. You also try to contribute to his or her good: you help when needed, you provide support and even advantage wherever possible.

Essentially, the “charitable” act of doing good for someone – friend or stranger or lover – opens up new possibilities for affirmation. And affirming the good in another provides opportunities to unite yourself to them.

Resolving to love in the new year

So, as I said, the Psychology Today advice is not bad: saying “I love you” every day is an act of affirmation. But it’s not just for one’s spouse, and it’s not just for words.

To really be more loving, all I need to do is remember to look for the good – either good that’s there, or good that I can bring about – in every person, every situation I encounter. I have some friends who put a note on their refrigerator reading, “Treat Theo [their 3-year old son] kindly”. The reminder might be that simple: a note on the mirror or the hand, saying, “Treat others with love today.”

Look for the good. Act on it.

Reading Josef Pieper’s excellent book on Love, I find myself both inspired and confused. This is, unfortunately, a fairly common combination for me.

I’m inspired because he offers a vision of love that somehow keeps its feet on the ground even as it lifts its eyes above the clouds. I’m confused because he seems to offer two rather different visions of love.

He’s trying to fit all the different kinds of love – from love of God to love of chocolate to love of one’s kidlets – together and see what they all have in common. How can they all be called “love”? At one point, he says:

In every conceivable case love signifies much the same as approval. … It is a way of turning to him or it and saying, “It’s good that you exist; it’s good that you are in this world!”

Then, later, he says:

However different our definitions of love and however different in fact its manifold forms are, one element recurs in all descriptions of it and in all actualizations of it: the tendency toward union.

Approval and union; not necessarily opposites, but definitely not the same thing. So … I get confused.

Love as approval

Looking at love as approval of something or someone, as affirming the fundamental goodness of their being, goes a long way toward showing what “I love chocolate, especially bitter dark chocolate, especially with raspberries and….” has in common with “I will love, honor, respect, and be faithful to you, forsaking all others, until death do us part.”

Love is simply what we do when we recognize something’s or someone’s goodness. And this is why there are so many different kinds of love: there are myriad kinds of goodness to appreciate, to delight in, to love. How good it is that music exists! How good it is that my friend exists! How good it is that my lover exists!

This even extends to the kind of love called “charity”: How good it is that this homeless person exists, and therefore how wrong it is that he or she suffers needlessly. How good it is that someone who is hungry now has a hot meal, that someone who is cold has a warm coat, that a handicapped person has access to the store or the library. We do these things because we recognize the good, the beauty, the dignity of those in need.

Love as union

But then, I don’t often use the words, “I love you,” for those kinds of situations. For me, at least, “I love you,” tends to come out with at least a hint of “I want you” – or, at least, “I want to be with you; I want you to be in my life.”

And, when I hear the words, “I love you,” there’s a part of me that is looking for exactly that connection, that claim the other person is putting on me. I want to be wanted, in other words.

When I feel these things, it all seems so natural, so right. But putting it into words makes it sound awfully selfish, as if love is all about me and what I want. And that’s fine as far as chocolate is concerned, but it can be more than a little insulting when applied to other people. “I want you to make me feel good,” is almost exactly treating a person like a thing to be used.

And yet, when great theologians and mystics describe the greatest love of all, the love of God, it is in terms of union: God wants to be united to us, and the mystic wants to be united with God. Heaven itself is perfect union – even possession of – God.

Putting it together

As I said, I’m confused. But this is how I’m working through it: there’s no such thing as love in the abstract. Love is always someone loving somebody or something else. There’s always a lover and a beloved.

The lover, in my case, is me. I can’t “unselfishly” remove myself from loving. If I approve, if I recognize and delight in some good – again, whether chocolate or my dearest friend – then it’s me who is loving. It’s me who delights, and appreciates that good.

Approval is not merely some impersonal “it’s good that…” Rather, I approve: “I recognize this good in you.” It’s an action on my part. And it’s an action that moves toward union, toward a sharing of the good. “Your existence is good – good for me as well as good for you!”

I’ve been through a few “unrequited” loves: where I was “in love” with someone who either didn’t care for me or just wasn’t available to me. I’ve tried the “unselfish” route of wanting what’s good for them even if I have no part in it, even if what’s good for them is my absence. Even then, though, it’s still me who wants what is good; it’s still me who finds something beautiful or delightful or lovely in the fact that this person is in the world.

I cannot love anyone or anything without experiencing some kind of union, some kind of sharing of the one I love.

This isn’t selfish; it’s the nature of being a self. And it’s impossible to truly love unless there is an “I” who loves. And, to my great relief, there is much to love and many ways to love in this world. Yes, chocolate and sunsets. Yes, family and friends. Yes, God himself, the Giver of all that is good. And yes, even me myself: with all my faults and problems, I still am a creature capable of love – and that itself is perhaps the greatest good of all.

Yesterday, I answered Sarah’s question by saying that virtue is a good habit. That’s pithy and fits neatly on a bumper sticker; but it’s not nearly the whole story. I wrote a little about it being good, but today I want to write about virtue being a habit.

Rinse, and repeat!

I’ve heard various theories on how to form a habit. Some say, repeat an action for thirty consecutive days, and it will become a habit. Others say, repeat an action one hundred times, and it will become a habit. Others give variations with different numbers. But all focus on the repetition.

Now, I’ll grant that if you do something the same way enough times, you’ll develop a kind of habit: a sort of physical habit, like a proper golf swing – or so my dad tells me. But I don’t think this is quite the kind of habit that makes a virtue. Nor do I think it’s the easiest way to develop a habit.

Purposeful repetition

In my own experience, the ways I’ve developed habits most quickly and easily all have one thing in common: I had a strong sense of purpose when I repeated the action. When I was in the habit of daily exercise, there was a particular girl I wanted to impress. Now that I’m not trying to impress her, my habit of exercise has slipped away.

This cuts both ways. In fact, it helps explain why I develop habits of vice so much more quickly than habits of virtue. When I eat that extra bowl of ice cream, mmm! I get an instant affirmation of how nummy ice cream is. Meanwhile, when I’m trying to develop virtuous habits, I need to constantly remind myself why I’m doing it.

All you need is love!

I didn’t choose the example of trying to impress a girl at random. I was in love, and that love motivated me beyond myself. That is, after all, what true love will do: move me to some good beyond myself.

The trick, then, to developing virtuous habits is to fall in love with the results of virtue. Maybe it’s just to remind yourself of what it is you most love. Maybe it’s to draw out the connections between some virtuous action and the object of your love.

What I’m trying now (and I’ll let you know how this goes) is to listen carefully to the people I love most, and who love me best. I’m listening for what they think I’m doing well, and what they think I need to improve at. I’m doing this because I’m awfully good at convincing myself that I’m just fine, or that I’m utterly worthless. My friends give me a reality check.

Because that’s another thing love does: like every virtue, it puts me in touch with reality.

If you want a little help from some friends, join the quest! I know that we will grow more together than separately.