In Defense of Purity
Page 10
Every genuine love contains two fundamental elements which may be termed respectively intentio unitiva (will to unity) and benevolentia (desire for the good of the beloved). The distinctive response to value which every genuine love represents, inasmuch as in such love we reply to the values perceived in the other person with a response of a wholly individual quality, contains just these two constituents. Our response is on the one hand a lavish generosity which makes another being its object and wills that being: we lavish upon him or her our affection and goodwill. This element is displayed most perfectly when we will the salvation of the beloved. But our response is at the same time a will to union, an intentio unitiva, the longing to be united with the other, the gift of our heart to him, or her, the will to belong to him, to be one with him, to share his being. And this response, too, is throughout the response to a perceived value. Indeed, it is even more specifically a value-response than lavish generosity; it is more exclusively motived and supported by a value, whereas generosity is, by comparison, more spontaneous and represents rather a full unfolding of the humbly and reverently loving ego within ourselves than a specific response to value. All love, indeed, necessarily contains both factors in mutual penetration, but according to the nature of the love either may predominate. In the love of God the intentio unitiva is the dominant factor; in love of one’s neighbor, generous and affectionate goodwill. In mother-love benevolentia is supreme; in the love of husband and wife the intentio unitiva. But no act can be truly love unless both factors are somehow present. The passionate craving which seeks to possess the other has no right to the name of love. It lacks both benevolentia and intentio unitiva. For the craving to possess is no genuine desire for union, since in this case it is not a possession of the other’s heart which is desired, a possession which cannot exist unless the beloved possess in turn the heart of the lover, but the ownership of the beloved as a chattel. The moment a real intentio unitiva is added to the desire, the latter is combined with a real love. But then the factor of benevolentia is always present as well.
Tenderness as a disposition is a particular development of that love, in which the attitude of benevolentia in a certain sense prevails. The lover desires to effect a union of a special kind with the beloved by employing the material of his generous love; he seeks to clothe and envelop her with this material, his affectionate goodwill. This communication of lavish affection is, it is true, of secondary importance in the lover’s eyes as compared with his ultimate intention, the beloved’s happiness in time and eternity. The external tokens of tenderness, effects of this tender disposition, caressing and embracing, are essentially a by-product. They can never become the essential, nor even represent the ideal, method of communicating this generous affection. But, on the other hand, they are a much more unambiguous and immediate road to it than any number of services rendered. For they represent no practical benefit to be conferred upon the beloved, but only my love itself. If I make anyone a present or help in need, love is not in the same way the substance of the entire proceeding as if I caress or embrace that person.
All the external tokens of tenderness are not to an equal degree a precipitate of the tender disposition; that is to say, they are not all primary means of transmitting that material of generous affection inherent in love. The kiss, which may be regarded as the center and crown of the external tokens of tenderness, is principally an expression or, more truly, a fulfillment of the intentio unitiva. But it is its fulfillment for every species of love—not only for wedded love. It plays this part in parents’ love for their child, in the child’s for parents, in the love of friend for friend.4 It is, indeed, the fulfillment and expression of the highest love for one’s neighbor. St. Francis kissed the lepers because in him a supreme love revealed itself which overcame his natural disgust. This function of the kiss as the expression of love toward one’s neighbor is clearly seen in the liturgical kiss of peace, and the highest love of which a creature is capable—love of Jesus, God and man—craves the kiss. We kiss His wounds; and holy Church exclaims: “Let Him kiss me with the kisses of His mouth!” Naturally, the kiss possesses a quite different character according to the kind of love it serves to express. But it is always a special expression of love, as signifying that spiritual contact between two persons which love as such involves. It expresses a gaze of each into the other, that incomparable entrance into the personality of another which love represents.
We must therefore beware of confusing the external signs of tenderness with its specific disposition. They possess, as we have seen, a double significance—as media by which the material of generous affection is transmitted in a distinctive fashion, and as a fulfillment of the intentio unitiva. Certain gestures of tenderness, the kiss, for instance, primarily subserve the union; others, for example, the caress, primarily transmit generous affection. But the tender disposition is always characterized principally by the direct transmission of affectionate goodwill.
If, therefore, there is to be tenderness, several factors are essential. In the first place the factor of benevolentia must not be weak, and secondly the relation between the parties must be of such a kind that the love itself is its leitmotif. Of such a relationship wedded love is the typical example. Moreover, this second factor is here of the utmost importance for two reasons. In the first place, because only a relationship of which love is the leitmotif brings with it the need to transmit directly the material of affectionate goodwill. In those forms of love in which benevolentia predominates, but of which love is not the leitmotif—love of one’s neighbor, for example—the goodwill expresses itself primarily in acts of service. Only when love plays the leading role in a relationship is there the need for a direct transmission of the material of benevolentia. And, in the second place in this case alone is there that dwelling with the object of love and that entrance into the sanctum of his personality which tenderness distinctly involves. For tenderness urges me, as it were, to envelop in loving kindness every feature of the beloved’s being to the minutest recess of his personality. I seek, not simply to capture by generous affection the most central nucleus of his personality, but, so to speak, to follow lovingly all the outlines of another’s nature. I desire, as it were, to fuse myself with his essential form, and repeat the acts in which his spirit expresses itself. I am fain to catch and cherish the fragrance of a being different from my own, the breath and luster of his personality. All this is possible only if love plays the leading part throughout.
To sum up the results of our inquiry hitherto: tender love exists whenever the intentio unitiva occupies the foreground or—which amounts to the same thing—where love is the specific leitmotif, but only when a high degree of benevolentia is also present. The distinctive disposition of tenderness is materially constituted by benevolentia, but obviously presupposes an active intentio unitiva. The intentio unitiva manifests the aim of direct transmission, the benevolentia determines the quality of what is transmitted. The more weakly the factor of benevolentia is developed, the intentio unitiva remaining unaltered, the less tender the love. A love between husband and wife, for example, in which benevolentia is less developed will not possess the character of tenderness so fully as one in which benevolentia plays a more important part. The kinder and softer and more refined a love, if it expressly craves union with the beloved, the tenderer it is.
But the tenderness or otherwise of a man further depends—this factor is also of decisive importance—on the degree to which he possesses an expansive nature which demands expression, and how far he is free from repressions. Tender men are men who, besides a great capacity for love, possess a general trait of soft and refined delicacy and sensitiveness, and in whom the organic penetration of the body by the soul is particularly close. Those distinctively material, insensitive men whose bodies, like a ponderous dead mass, weigh heavy on the soul are never tender. Language itself witnesses to the connection between physical and psychological tenderness. Nor is there anything passionate or fierce about tendernes
s; it is, on the contrary, warm, kind-hearted, and mild.
This specific disposition we call tenderness has an important function to perform in the married union. For the pure tenderness, this unconstrained transmission to the other of the material of generous affection, will permeate the entire act of marriage. Tenderness in its specific quality, free from passion, refined, responsive, and even, brings out in special relief the fusion which marriage effects. It is an element in that transfiguring glory which dispels every shadow from the act of wedded union. The bright beam of genuine tenderness which altogether transcends the vital sphere and in which the spirit is wholly supreme, retains indeed complete mastery of itself, penetrates every dark place and invests the entire proceeding with an untroubled peace. With the pure, tenderness has got the start of sexual desire. The marriage union must be penetrated and permeated by tenderness; must, indeed, be experienced as the unique climax of tenderness.
But we must not therefore conclude that the ideal of wedded purity admits only tenderness, to the exclusion of sexual desire. Since, as we have often insisted already, the two must go hand in hand, and, moreover, it is sexual desire which makes possible the unique intimacy, the mysterious profundity, and the objective bond of the marriage act, its presence constitutes a distinctive value. The unique character of this ultimate union, its mystery, its extraordinariness, its ecstasy, its intimacy—all these elements—unintelligible to the man who is simply tender but insensitive to sex—belong to the ideal experience of sex. But tenderness must enjoy a certain supremacy and permeate the married union with its unfettered affection. It is, moreover, a factor which plays a decisive part in counteracting the danger inherent in the act of marriage.
But for the pure the act of self-donation is before everything else accompanied by a special reference to God. I have already pointed out that it is only when he believes himself to possess the express sanction of God that the pure will consent to the exercise of sex, from which otherwise he would turn in horror. For he knows that sex is a domain which belongs in a special fashion to God, and that only by the permission of the Master of life and death may he draw the curtain from its secret. From this directly follows what has also been pointed out already, that in the marriage union the pure cannot dispense with a specific reference to God. Hence, if this act is to be ennobled to the measure of perfect purity, love of the partner is insufficient, not to mention the simple purpose of propagation; an upward glance to God, thankful and loving, and abiding reverently in His sight (in conspectu Dei) is indispensable. The pure man perceives clearly the solemn import of the act ordained by God to give life to a new human being, and this aspect of the mystery must color everything and intensify the reference to God, providing a further motive to remain in His presence. He will never lose sight of the marvelous creative significance attaching to this act. And the quality of which this aspect is the source must further intensify the seriousness of the entire situation and the subject’s attitude of reverence. But this consideration is insufficient by itself to make God in a special fashion the foundation of the entire relation. Consciousness of the divine sanction of the marriage act, given in the words “and the two shall be one flesh,” the knowledge that sex is a domain specifically reserved to God, cannot be replaced by a simple reference to the possible procreation of a new human being. On the contrary, this consideration attains its full sublimity and exercises to the full its purifying power only when it springs from the background of a direct contemplation of God.
On the other hand, any proud sense of the importance of self as the author of life, that unpleasing attitude of vital passion which corresponds with a pantheist view of reality, is wholly incompatible with purity. Apart from the fact that humility is of the essence of true purity, this degradation of the wedded union to the vital plane is as such impure. Only the love which immeasurably transcends everything merely vital can ennoble this union and keep it pure. The union must be a gift of self to the beloved partner, a self-surrender which is totally incompatible with any sense of self-importance as the giver of life. The conscious reference to God must be one of humility, reverence, and gratitude, which reveals with perfect distinctness the contrast between Creator and creature, and thus completely excludes the pantheistic attitude toward God which treats with Him as on equal terms with ourselves.
It is now clear what sex is as exercised by the pure; an unconstrained, tenderly affectionate surrender of love grounded in a humble, reverent, serene, and radiant attitude. No sultry heats are here, nor grossness of triumphant flesh. Every recess is bright with the light of the soul; on everything the spirit has stamped the patent of its nobility, because every detail has become the expression of love—everything save one final remainder, whose significance as an experience, however, has, when the ideal is realized most perfectly, been rendered wholly innocuous.
We have already discovered that the perfect spirit-begotten virtue of purity is possible only as a constituent of the complete Christian character. The recognition of this is a considerable step toward understanding the connection between purity in the narrower sense and purity in the widest sense, as also between purity and the other virtues. Only the soul that loves Jesus, the crown of purity, can be truly pure. Purity also is a daughter of the queen of virtues, love. Purity, too, is one of those sublime fruits of the Holy Ghost, through whom the fullness of the Divine Love is bestowed upon us and who “brings to our mind whatsoever” Jesus “has said unto us.” This truth has found a most convincing and vivid expression in Charles Gay’s account (De la vie et des verlus chrétiennes): “We are sons of God, and as such it befits us to walk the earth with upright carriage and firm step, loins girt, eyes open, soul raised on high; to behave with sincerity, to fulfill righteousness, to live, in the words of Holy Scripture, in a fashion ‘worthy of God,’ giving light without, light within, light on every side, giving light by our words, by our conduct, by our deeds; to admit no thought, no love, no purpose, no act which could not endure the sight of God, nay, which does not invite it—nothing wherein He cannot take pleasure and at which He cannot rejoice. What does this mean but that every child of God must be pure in spirit, in heart and in body? How beautiful, cried the wise man, is the generation of pure souls shining with the radiance of truth. Light, purity, the God-like life, the Christian life: in God’s eyes all these are one and the same.”
* * *
1. The degrees of purity here described, particularly that depicted as the ideal, are viewed from the standpoint of wedded purity. We are attempting to depict the ideal of purity in the exercise of sex. And in this connection we must remember that ideal purity is here bound up with the ideal wedded union. That is to say, though the value of tender and complete surrender and union of love represent, as we have already seen, something distinct from purity, nevertheless, wedded purity unfolds its fairest blossoms and strikes its deepest root where the special values which belong to the wedded union in its highest form are most completely realized.
2. This third and supreme type of wedded purity is a specially convincing proof that the genuine virtue of purity, as contrasted with natural purity, essentially requires a supernatural motive, and can be produced only with supernatural aid.
3. It has obviously nothing to do with what is often incorrectly called tenderness—that specific craving to snuggle up to another which quite unconsciously seeks contact with some other living being.
4. English and American readers must remember that on the Continent the kiss is the regular greeting of friendship between men as well as women. In Japan, on the other hand, the kiss is confined to parents and little children. In reading this paragraph the important part played by social convention should not be forgotten. [Trans.]
Virginity
Introductory
“THE KINGDOM of this world and every ornament thereof have I scorned for the love of Jesus Christ, my Lord, whom I have seen, and have loved, in whom I have believed, who is my love’s choice.” These words which, according to
tradition, St. Agnes prayed at her martyrdom and which virgins consecrated to God sing at their profession, the day of their wedding with Jesus, declare the ultimate and sublime significance of consecrated virginity as the mystery of supernatural love. Moreover, the essential nature and the incomparable magnificence of Christian virginity can be rendered intelligible by love alone, and specifically by that highest among all created loves—love of Jesus, “in whom dwells the entire fullness of the Godhead.”
When in the following pages we attempt to penetrate deeper the essence and sublime beauty of consecrated virginity, and in doing so take as our starting point the consecrated maiden, we do not in any way imply that in its ultimate significance and nature consecrated virginity is different in man and in woman. There is no essential difference between the purity of a man and the purity of a woman—for the same interior attitude before God is demanded in both cases. It is the same with virginity. The essence of consecrated virginity, its specific meaning and value, which represents something entirely new as compared with purity, is the same for monk and nun; indeed, for the priest also, though in a modified form, inasmuch as the priest primarily represents Christ, not the Bride who conceives by His gift, the Church. Since, however, Scripture, to depict the nuptial relation of the soul to Christ, prefers the image of a maiden, and since it is preeminently in the office for virgins and in the rite of their profession that the liturgy speaks of consecrated virginity, the dedicated maiden will in the following dissertation serve as the typical virgin.1 We spoke just now of Christian virginity as a mystery of supernatural love, and by so doing ascribed to it a significance analogous, though on an incomparably higher level, to that of marriage. This in turn implies that consecrated virginity possesses a wholly positive and, moreover, specifically religious value and meaning, which in no way belong to mere celibacy and which in relation to purity represent something altogether new.