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Moral Theology — Topic 5. Moral Relationships.

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Moral Theology — Topic 5. Moral Relationships.

Created in the image of the Triune God, human beings are inherently social creatures. This is precisely why, even in paradise, people receive commandments that serve as the foundation for building relationships with one another, with the created world and, through it, with the Creator Himself. The word “relationship” itself is quite interesting, as it effectively combines several important elements. “Relation” (the prefix “from” and the root “to carry”) refers to what a person carries from within themselves into the external world—thoughts, words, and actions whose source is their free will.

Who is the source of moral relationships?

In ancient cultures, relationships were based on the principle of talion—equal retribution. Here, a person learned to treat another by orienting themselves to that person’s attitude toward them. The closest example for us is the Old Testament with its commandment “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” (Exodus 21:24). It is precisely the principle of retaliation that underlies the so-called Golden Rule of ethics: do not do to others what you would not want done to yourself. Such a principle, can be called reactive, since it is based on a response, a way of acting, and an assumption. However, in the Sermon on the Mount, we hear a completely different approach from Christ. Knowing that the world lies in evil and cannot be relied upon, the Savior says: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” That is, the most important common characteristic of Christian relationships is their proactivity, since a person does not merely react but recognizes themselves as the source of relationships, as their own inner stance. Through their thoughts, words, and deeds, they create a space of moral relationships, rather than merely reacting to the actions of others. As for the person themselves, the source that fills relationships with moral content is their conscience. It is from its testimony that the norms by which people orient themselves arise. It is no coincidence that, when addressing the Galatians, the Apostle Paul writes: “Let each one examine his own work, and then he will have reason to boast only in himself and not in another” (Gal 6:4).

Much later, speaking of how a person should keep his conscience blameless, St. Abba Dorotheus wrote: “The preservation of conscience is manifold: for a person must preserve it in relation to God, to his neighbor, and to things”[1]. By the first, the holy father means attention to God’s commandments, both as manifested in actions and as an inner state; by the second—care not to harm one’s neighbor or offend him; by the third—care for material things, ensuring they do not deteriorate and that each remains in its proper place. Given that today there is a strong emphasis on a person’s self- awareness, it is important to add a fourth dimension to these: a person is called to maintain a conscience toward themselves. Through the workings of conscience, four types of relationships take shape in a person’s life. Each is unique in its own way. The existence of God cannot be proven, and a relationship with Him requires an act of faith. Relationships with people are diverse and, as a result, contradictory. A relationship with objects demands a high level of responsibility because it appears one-sided. Finally, a relationship with oneself is deceptive and requires the skill of reflection, as it can be difficult to step back and view oneself objectively.

People who have grown up within a Christian worldview know that love is the highest form of moral relationship, but few realize that Christian love itself requires a proper foundation. As preliminary stages, out of which it gradually grows, one can point to encounter, trust, and communication, or use in the case of things. As is well known, following the Fall, human life is marked not only by virtue but also by sin; each of these stages has a negative counterpart. Encounter involves ignoring and neglect; trust involves suspicion; communication involves resentment; and love involves enmity. Considering that human history began with an encounter but, instead of trust, resulted in sin and enmity, it seems appropriate to examine the structure of moral relationships

Encounter

Human beings are personal beings, and therefore their relationships with other individuals begin with what is commonly referred to as an “encounter.” Although the concept of an encounter was scarcely considered a theological one prior to the 20th century, its significance in an ethical sense cannot be overstated. By examining the semantic field of the concept of “encounter,” one can see that in many languages it encompasses two meanings. First, “to be opposite” (cf . Hebrew qirah[Gen. 15:10]) and “to meet” (Gen. 18:2), “to be face to face” (Greek synantō from antāō). Second, “to find” or “to discover,” “to uncover”— Hebrew matsa (Gen. 2:20, 4:14) , Greek εὑρίσκω , and Slavic s ъ rěsti. The English “to meet” derives from Old English mētan, meaning “to find.” In turn, this word goes back to Proto-Germanic *motjanan, meaning “to come to the same place.”

In life, a person crosses paths with a vast number of people, but these encounters are not recognized by them as meetings. Subconsciously, we understand that there are people around us, but we do not recognize them as individuals; we do not come face to face with them, we do not open ourselves to them, and we do not reveal ourselves to them. In the case of contact with inanimate objects and animals, we are expected to recognize them as participants in existence who are dependent on us and who have been given to us by God. Participants in an encounter may be involved in it with varying degrees of awareness, which is why the time and space of the encounter may have different durations. A human being is a personal being, yet they do not become a person immediately, which is why they are not always capable of thoughtfully and deeply experiencing the fact of the encounter. For example, a pregnant woman, a teacher, or a caregiver tending to a patient with dementia are called to experience the encounter, understanding that before them is a person who, due to age and other circumstances, is not yet or no longer capable of full communication, but who nonetheless remains a human being and the image of God. However, intellectual and moral underdevelopment, as well as being enslaved by passions, also make it difficult for a person to enter into the space of encounter.

Before the Fall in Paradise, four encounters take place: the encounter between God and humankind, between humankind and the animals, between human beings, a man and a woman, and, finally, between humankind and the Deceiver. Despite the brevity of the descriptions, it is evident that man’s first encounter with the Creator was associated with receiving the commandments, which man himself could broadly associate with the meaning of life. It is noteworthy that God’s attitude toward man is expressed with complete clarity, whereas man’s attitude toward God must be expressed through the observance or non-observance of the commandments. The naming of the animals can quite reasonably be understood as man’s encounter with that which is lower than him in creation, with that which he is called to discover for himself as an object of knowledge, preservation, and care. Finally, the encounter with a wife begins with man’s realization that he cannot be reduced to the animal world, since among the animals “there was not found a helper suitable for him” (Gen. 2:20). Adam accepts his wife into fellowship because he finds in her a co-worker “suitable for him.” The meeting of man and woman must find its fulfillment in the fact that a man “shall cleave to his wife,” and they shall become “one flesh” (Gen. 2:24). It is noteworthy that at the moment of meeting his wife as one like himself, Adam, in a certain sense, experiences a meeting with himself. Of course, there is no internal division within man yet, and we do not see in him a developed ability to view himself from the outside. At the same time, the wife is created not merely during Adam’s sleep, but during that state which the LXX calls ἔκστασις, that is, literally “a departure from oneself,” as if allowing one to view humanity from the outside. It is no coincidence that upon seeing his wife, Adam uses personal pronouns for the first time, saying: “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” (Gen 2:23). Here, in paradise, man encounters the deceiver, which leads to the disruption of all previously established relationships.

Thus, the encounter turns out to be a “place” in time and space where persons do not merely cross paths like random objects, but are able to recognize in “the one opposite” a person with whom a relationship is possible. The encounter does not create a space for further moral life, but is itself its first act, because the event of the encounter depends on those who experience it, on their ability and readiness—or, conversely, their inability and unwillingness—to open themselves to a shared existence, to take the other into account and accept them into their own being, or to reject them.

Reflecting on the encounter today—that is, in the world after the Fall—we know that even the encounter is hindered and marred by self-centeredness. Sin has sown in the human heart a fear of losing status and has created barriers between people who, without even realizing it, compete with one another, perceiving the “other” as a threat. It is no coincidence that Adam and Eve made coverings for themselves, seeking to create, at least on this level, a barrier that would protect them from the condemning gaze of the other. In this context, the key solution that makes an encounter in the fallen world possible is a conscious willingness to be vulnerable and to make room for the other in one’s own heart—and thus in one’s own life. If an encounter does indeed take place, it can resolve either in trust and find its fulfillment in love, or in distrust, which finds its fulfillment in enmity. Given that human beings were created by God for communion and love, a person who is distrustful and hostile needs repentance, forgiveness, and reconciliation. Understood in this way, the encounter proves to be a necessary element on the path to preserving one’s conscience and fulfilling the meaning of life, as the fulfillment of God’s will for oneself.

[1] D orotheus Gazaeus. Doctrinae diversae III, 43 // SC. 92. P. 214

Fellowship

After the Fall, God did not abandon His intention to bring humanity back to the path of salvation. Even after the covenant was established, communion with God could involve the revelation of what is right (Gen. 1:28, Ex 19:9–25) or a warning against wrongdoing (Gen 4:6); it could also be a time of crisis and judgment. At times, communion with God is described only indirectly, but it can be indicated by the expression “face to face” (Ex 33:11, Ezek 20:35). Given that the human condition after the Fall could not be changed by human effort alone, even within the framework of Old Testament revelation, communion with God is not merely exhortative or judgmental but also merciful (1 Kings 19:12) in nature, speaking of condescension toward the sinner and prompting the sinner himself to show mercy. God is not a human being, and in this context, He does not go through stages of attaining love, but loves humanity immediately, and all His activity is directed toward reconciling rebellious humanity to Himself (Isa. 48:17, cf. 2 Cor. 5:19). This is precisely why God’s New Testament communion with humanity was predominantly merciful. By becoming human, the Creator entered the world as One who is ready for vulnerability and communion. Without accepting sin, He accepts the sinner in his fall, even though it violates His plan. For Jesus Christ, at the moment of encounter and communion, it did not matter what social status a person had, how financially secure he was, or even how orthodox he was (John 4:1–26). As God, He was open to any person. However, not all people, for their part, were ready for mutual communion with Him. Some were frightened at first but later followed Christ (Luke 5:8); others refused communion on principle (Matt. 8:34). Finally, there were those who, behind a façade of religiosity, had never experienced a personal encounter with God, and their interaction was filled with hostility and hatred (John 8:42). Continuing and developing the logic of the Teacher’s conduct, Christians, even within the framework of communal life, did not judge a person by gender, social status, wealth, or any other external characteristic. Describing the life of the disciples, the evangelist Luke says that they “…devoted themselves daily with one accord to the temple, and broke bread from house to house, eating their food with gladness and simplicity of heart” (Acts 2:46). The word “sincerity,” which characterizes the quality of their relationships—ἁφελότης in the original—means a rejection of pretense and artificiality, sincerity, and openness. More will be said about the theological and moral foundations of Christian fellowship in the section on the sacraments of the priesthood and the Eucharist.

Forgiveness and Reconciliation

Even when in conflict, people can interact and achieve a certain semblance of peace and communion. I say “semblance” precisely because sin was not merely an external quarrel; it brought about a fundamental division within the human world. The fabric of interpersonal relationships was torn apart by each person’s selfishness and self-centeredness. Even after the Fall and the expulsion of humans from Paradise, they continued to interact, but their relationship could no longer be as it was before without mutual forgiveness and reconciliation on the part of people—and, most importantly, without the grace-filled healing that God offers to humanity through Christ. The first without the second proves incomplete, because while a person is capable of ending hostility, they cannot heal their own heart.

The semantic field associated with the idea of forgiveness is very diverse and includes the ideas of removing barriers, obstacles, and liberation from bonds. For example, in the Russian language, the main verb meaning “to forgive” derives from the Proto-Slavic root *prostiti and is related to the root *prost, meaning straightforwardness, simplicity, openness, and freedom. Thus, forgiveness turns out to be a return to simple and direct relationships that are not mediated by any barrier.

Despite the naturalness of the idea of forgiveness for modern people, for people of antiquity the possibility—and even more so the necessity—of forgiveness was by no means so obvious. Within the Old Testament, there are terms denoting exclusively divine forgiveness: סָלַח (salach) and כּפר (kaphar). The first implied not a legal remission of guilt, but the restoration of relationships and a return to fellowship; the second—atonement and purification. In turn, the verb נָשָׂא (nasa’), whose primary meaning is to understand, bear, or sustain, is also translated as “to forgive” and is used both in reference to God’s forgiveness and to human forgiveness. In an ethical sense, to bear, means to take responsibility for one’s actions, to bear the burden of punishment (Micah 7:9). In this case, forgiveness, as lifting up and bearing, is in fact “taking upon oneself the guilt of another for the purpose of forgiveness”[1]. In the stories of the patriarchs, there are instances of reconciliation between adversaries (Abraham and Abimelech, Gen. 20:17; Jacob and Esau, Gen. 33:4), in which forgiveness—as an acknowledgment of guilt and a willingness to “take it upon oneself” from another and bear it—has not yet occurred. Human forgiveness is first mentioned in the story of Joseph, who responds to a request for forgiveness and proves willing to forgive his brothers’ guilt. However, in this situation, it is significant that the brothers themselves recognize their guilt. Forgiveness becomes possible because the sinner recognizes his responsibility and takes the blame upon himself, while the victim is willing to lift it from the guilty party (Genesis 50:17).

In the Old Testament, forgiveness was not required of people. Moreover, the principle of retaliation makes it clear that the sinner was to be punished: “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” (Exodus 21:24). However, the law forbade revenge and holding a grudge and commanded love for one’s neighbor (Lev. 19:18). Obviously, this was far from always easy, especially when it came to a crime. Consider the story of Amnon, who raped his half-sister Tamar, thereby earning not merely the wrath but the enduring hatred of Absalom. The latter “spoke neither good nor bad to Amnon; for Absalom hated Amnon” (2 Sam. 13:22) and two years later killed him at a feast. Perhaps Solomon is referring to something like this when he says: “A brother who is embittered is more unapproachable than a fortified city, and quarrels are like the bars of a castle” (Prov. 18:19). According to the law, Amnon was to be severely punished (Lev. 20:17), but David did not do so. Absalom, for his part, instead of holding a grudge or seeking revenge, was required by law to rebuke his brother publicly (Lev. 19:17).

The attitude toward an enemy becomes more lenient in the wisdom literature, as it contains exhortations not to rejoice when an enemy falls into trouble (Prov. 24:17–18) and to feed him if he is hungry (Prov. 25:21–22). The only place in the entire Old Testament where there is a direct command to forgive is the deuterocanonical book of Jesus, son of Sirach, which not only forbids revenge but also urges: “Forgive your neighbor’s offense, and then your sins will be forgiven through your prayer” (Sir 28:2).

The key terms associated with forgiveness in Greek are the verb ἀφίημι, which originally meant “to release, to let go,” and the noun ἄφεσις, which is derived from it. The beginning of the preaching, both by John the Baptist (Mark 1:4, Luke 3:3) and of Jesus Christ Himself, is linked to a call to repentance for the sake of the forgiveness of sins. The importance of this concept cannot be overstated, for if sin has created a barrier between God and people, as well as divided people from one another, forgiveness is the act capable of reconciling them, restoring their relationships. At the same time, Old Testament conceptions of forgiveness undergo a fundamental transformation. In one’s relationship with God, forgiveness no longer requires the offering of sacrifices, and the reconciliation of people is not regulated in any way. In this sense, Peter’s question: “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother who sins against me?” (Matt. 18:21) is by no means accidental, since the Old Testament tradition—and most importantly, the law—does not regulate forgiveness in any way. However, Christ’s answer regarding the need to forgive “even up to seventy times seven” (Luke 17:3–4) is only formally similar to a regulation, because the point is clearly not a specific number beyond which vengeance may follow, but the completeness of forgiveness, since “seven” in Scripture is the number, of completeness.

The very logic of forgiveness in the New Testament changes, because now it is possible not merely as an end to hostility, but as a genuine healing of relationships—a result of the forgiveness and healing granted to the world through Jesus Christ. Addressing the Corinthians, the Apostle Paul wrote: “For God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them , and He has committed to us the message of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:19). During His earthly life, the Savior not only healed but also forgave sins. His forgiveness could be based on various grounds, such as repentance (1 John 1:9), faith (Luke 5:20), and love (Luke 7:48), but at times it was granted unconditionally. For example, in the case of the woman caught in adultery, Christ does not judge her but calls her not to sin anymore (John 8:11). The Lord literally ignores the sin and accepts the sinner in his weakness. Moreover, during the crucifixion, the Lord asks for forgiveness for His crucifiers, even though the circumstances would suggest the opposite. All this happens because God’s wrath was not originally rooted in resentment or enmity on His part. Understanding this allows St. Basil the Great to say: “God, having sent His Only-Begotten Son for the forgiveness of our sins, has already forgiven the sins of all on His part.” However, a person cannot receive this forgiveness if his own heart is filled with resentment and hostility. As the “owner” of resentment, one who holds a grudge against his neighbor keeps his heart closed from within.

The connection between divine forgiveness and forgiveness among people is emphasized repeatedly in the New Testament. It is particularly significant that Christ incorporates this into the disciples’ prayer as the focal point of their religious life: “And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your heavenly Father may also forgive you your sins. But if you do not forgive, neither will your heavenly Father forgive your sins” (Mark 11:25–26, Matthew 6:14–15). At the same time, the Lord formulates the prayer itself as if forgiveness had already taken place: “and forgive us our debts, as (ως) we forgive our debtors” (Matt. 6:12, Luke 11:4). It is believed that the preposition ὡς is used here in the sense of “because,” that is, forgiveness in the disciples’ lives is not presented as an option, but is established as the norm of their lives. They understand that their reconciliation with God depends on themselves. However, ὡς can be translated as “just as,” which can lead to the idea of “forgiveness in the same measure.” Thus, in the well-known parable of the unforgiving creditor, the king’s forgiveness of a huge debt implies the same measure of generosity on the part of the creditor himself toward his debtors. When the debtor refuses to forgive, he himself is again obliged to repay the debt. Concluding the parable, which was told in response to Peter’s aforementioned question, the Lord sums it up: “So also will My heavenly Father do to you, if each of you does not from your heart forgive your brother his trespasses” (Matt. 18:35). The assertion that forgiveness must come “from the heart” implies more than just the need for thoughtful and informal work on relationships with others. For fallen humanity, it often involves an inner sacrifice.

In this regard, it is important to understand that forgiveness may have its own duplicates or surrogates. There may be an imitation of forgiveness, an outward appeasement, and even the departure of pain, but at the same time, forgiveness in the true ethical sense will not occur. Reflecting on possible substitutes, V. Yankelevich points to the three most obvious ones. First, there is what is known as “temporal wear and tear” or forgetting. Time gradually erases the memory of a neighbor’s action and dulls the sense of offense, requiring no moral effort or heroic act. Second, we can speak of so- called “rationalization” or a rational apology, as a result of which it becomes clear that the act, we are offended by was committed due to objective reasons independent of the other person. It turns out that the person bears no blame, and there is simply nothing to forgive. Third, forgiveness can be replaced by so-called “disengagement,” in which a person simply refuses to consider what happened important and chooses to disregard it, thereby eliminating not only the problem but also the moral effort that forgiveness entails.

It is clear that all these substitutes are quite legitimately present in our daily lives, and we forget, forgive, and overlook each other’s minor flaws and weaknesses because, since they are not truly our fault, they do not create a real barrier that would divide us. True forgiveness occurs when a person acknowledges that the other is truly at fault and, for their part, removes the barrier through the gift of communication and love. Forgiveness, however, does not necessarily imply a full restoration of the relationship in a practical sense, since the other person may not change at all. In such a case, forgiveness proves to be a difficult path that begins with the desire to forgive, the separation of the person from their action, and prayers to God for the restoration of the relationship.

Given that the need for forgiveness becomes the task of every disciple, a full Christian life presupposes mutual forgiveness and its rootedness in Christ’s forgiveness: “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God in Christ forgave you” (Eph 4:32, cf. Col 3:13). Thus, the cessation of hostility toward God and one’s neighbors makes it possible to meet on a different basis and to resolve it through trust, fellowship, and love.

[1] TDOT 10. P. 33.

Hostility

A person is born into the world and needs care and nurturing. A child’s properly established relationships with parents and everything surrounding them, already in the first year of life, form what, thanks to E. Erikson, is commonly called basic trust in the world. Traditionally, this is understood as a form of worldview in which the world is perceived as predictable, safe, and benevolent. This benevolence was meant to be felt by humans in everything, for the world was created by God as “very good.” In the context of God’s plan for humanity, after considering “encounter,” it would be necessary to move on to “trust” and “communication”; however, in a world after the Fall, when encountering a stranger, a person senses a hidden threat and will treat them with suspicion until proven otherwise. Today, thanks in part to Christianity—which for centuries has called on people to love one another and treat even their enemies with kindness—such hostility has been somewhat mitigated. However, the experience of 20th-century conflicts shows that culture and civilization, in most cases, turn out to be a very thin veneer beneath which lies a readiness to be hostile and aggressive. In this regard, it seems appropriate to approach the topic of trust and communication as something that arises not only from encounter but also from a conscious rejection of hostility.

The semantic field of words associated with the concept of enmity or resentment is very broad, but the most common terms are those conveying the meanings of “pain” and “injustice” (feud, resentment, etc.). Furthermore, in some languages, there have been parallel terms denoting an enemy as a stranger or someone different: “the Greek πολέμιοι (distinct from ἐχθροί), the Latin hostis, which originally meant ‘stranger’ (distinct from inimicus), and the Russian неприятель (distinct from враг)”[1]. It is important to understand that a person usually does not perceive themselves as an enemy or a stranger, just normal. Something in words or behavior is sensed or perceived as a barrier to open communication and becomes the moral basis for one’s own hostility—as an active stance and resentment, as an internal experience.

The archetypal instance for all such situations can be considered the emergence of a barrier between God and man, which occurred as early as in paradise. It was brought about by the words of the deceiver, who appeared to Eve in the form of a serpent and slandered God. He said that the prohibition against eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil was not motivated by God’s concern, but by His jealousy and fear of competition from humanity (Gen. 3:5). Subjectively, for humanity, the barrier was erected by God, whereas objectively, the distrust (= the barrier) was the work of humanity. Already here, in this brief episode, we see the mechanics of those moral processes that influence human behavior in all relationships with God and other people. Even in paradise, man, as a rational and free being, is capable of more than simply reacting to circumstances by taking one moral stance or another. In his mind, he is capable of constructing a moral reality, deciding who is trustworthy and who is not. This is precisely why, even before the people heard God’s question about the tree, they fled from Him in fear. In their eyes, God had become a source of aggression; they viewed Him through the prism of the serpent’s slander and feared punishment. As a result, when they encountered God, they did not recognize Him but constructed a false image of Him in their minds. In a similar way, sin altered the relationships among people themselves. They grew distant and began to perceive each other’s gaze as hostile, as evidenced by the shame that arose (Gen. 3:7). Moreover, Adam blamed his wife, and through her, God Himself, for tempting and provoking him to sin (Gen. 3:12).

The underlying logic of hostility and resentment is always simple. A person perceives aggression in another’s “action” and, in self-defense, withdraws from that person. At the same time, the so-called “action” itself—as a conscious act—can manifest not only through a glance, a gesture, a word, or a deed, but also through the absence of such things. We may experience hostility not only when our personal space is invaded, but also when we are ignored. Moreover, the “action” itself, as a conscious act, may not even exist. A person is capable, relying not only on others’ words but also on their own feelings and even outright fantasies, of constructing a situation in which they find themselves a victim and perceive their aggression as secondary, retaliatory, and morally justified. All this happens because the conditional “owner” of the offense or the obstacle to communication is the person who takes offense, becomes angry, and harbors ill will toward their neighbor in their heart. The reaction to an “action” or its absence depends solely on who perceives it.

For example, it is obvious that God cannot be offended or, in a human sense, angered. In His love, God is unchanging (James 1:17), and even His wrath is a form of this love, unconnected to malice or a desire to cause pain to the offender. Human sin breaks one’s connection with God, becoming a barrier to their communion. More will be said about this in the section on the sacrament of confession. A “meeting” between two people may end with suspicion arising in place of trust, enmity in place of friendship, and hatred in place of love. However, the very nature of the reaction and its intensity depend again and again on the person perceiving the real or imagined aggression and choosing the form in which the response will be given. St. John Chrysostom speaks beautifully on this: “Whether an offense occurs or not depends not on the will of those who inflict it, but on the disposition of those who suffer it”[2]. Given that man is created for communion and love, enmity and offense turn out to be opposing and unnatural states that not only deprive a person of peace but also destroy him for eternal life (Matt. 6:15). Sometimes people refuse to forgive and demand an apology or even repentance from their neighbor, forgetting that resentment and enmity are their own spiritual problem, since they fill their souls with anger and malice.

[1] https://www.etymonline.com/word/enemy

[2] St. John Chrysostom. Discourse on Statues 2.8

  • Encounter
  • Hostility
  • Forgiveness and Reconciliation
  • Trust / Suspicion
  • Fellowship
  • Love

Love

Love can be called the most important and one of the most complex themes in the system of moral relations. This is because love, like no other phenomenon of moral life, is multifaceted, mysterious, and at the same time discredited. By affirming that man is created in the image of God, Who “is love,” we understand that love is of the utmost importance for human nature as well. It is revealed to man gradually, and at all levels of his being: spiritual, emotional, and physical. At the same time, in a world after the Fall, where the flesh reigns over the spirit, carnal and sensual love plays the primary role in people’s lives.

Even in ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian texts, there are fairly well- developed concepts of love. In addition to descriptions of everyday forms of love, these texts also mention the love of humans for the gods and of the gods for humans. However, this does not refer to all people, but to the chosen few—the pharaoh or the ruler. Furthermore, ideas about love for such aspects of spiritual and social life as righteousness or justice already appear here. In the Hebrew of the Old Testament, there were several words used to describe the concept of love. The most common is the noun אַהֲבָה (ahabah), which derives from the verb אָהַב (ahav)—to love. Etymologically, the connection to the Arabic word for “skin” is the most likely, while the connection to the Arabic word hаbba, meaning “to breathe heavily, to be agitated,” is less likely. Both versions associate love with sensory experiences, the first being more physical, the second more emotional. Comparing various usages of these terms, researchers conclude that in this context, “love is a passionate desire to be closely connected with a person (in all aspects of life, not only internal but also external), with whom one feels united in one’s feelings”[1]. The range of usage for these terms is extremely broad. Everything God does for His people, He does out of His love (Deut. 7:8). It is a love that is not only electing but also sacrificial (Isa. 53:4-6). It is precisely God’s love that became the reason for the Covenant and lies at its foundation. For its part, human love, as that of one who freely enters into the covenant, must become the primary response to the divine call (Deut. 7:6–11). Often, when describing feelings, love is in some cases linked to a conscious, volitional moral act, both in relationships with people and in relationships with God. Moreover, in both cases, love is realized through the observance of the commandments (Exod 20:6, Deut 10:12, Lev 19:18, Lev 19:34).

At the same time, human love is fickle (Eccl 9:1). On the one hand, it is as strong “as death” (Song of Songs 8:6); on the other, it can quickly turn to hatred (2 Kgs 1 Kgs 13:15). Describing love as he sees it in people, the Old Testament writer understands that it can be not only sincere and self- sacrificing, but also selfish and superficial. As a consequence of this fickleness of sensual love, even in the Old Testament there are calls to love not only what is pleasing to him, but also what will lead him to good (Prov. 12:1) and, in particular, wisdom (Prov. 4:6), since it will help him to love everything else correctly. In this sense, it is important that love is not only described but also prescribed: love for one’s neighbor is direct and unambiguous (Lev 19:18), while love for one’s enemy is indirect, through helping them in their distress (Exod 23:4–5). It is also interesting that the commandment to love one’s neighbor includes a statement of self-love as a natural norm of life.

Another important term associated with love is חֵסֵד (hesed), traditionally translated as “mercy,” but which can nevertheless be rendered as “unfailing love.” This is a loving and faithful love that is most deeply connected to the idea of God’s faithfulness to the Covenant (Ps 135:1). This love rarely characterizes human relationships, yet it is occasionally mentioned in descriptions of human actions (Gen. 47:29; 1 Sam. 20:8, 15). Furthermore, in the context of love, the concept of רחמים (racham) is discussed, which signifies compassion and tender maternal love and affection. Scripture often speaks of divine mercy (Exod 34:6–7, Isa 49:15), but people are also called to be merciful toward one another (Zech 7:9). Finally, the word דּוֹד (dowd) can be used to describe marital love, as in the Song of Songs, while חשק (chashaq), which originally meant to cling and become attached, is used for romantic love. However, when referring to romantic love (Gen 34:8), this verb can also imply an equally strong devotion to God (Ps 90:14).

Like the Jews, the Greeks used several words to express different shades of love. Love as an attraction between people, preference, attention, and friendly affection in the broadest sense was denoted by the noun φιλία and the verb φιλέω. These terms are rarely used in Scripture and usually describe daily, earthly relationships (Matt. 10:37). The noun στοργή and the verb στέργω, which are similar in meaning and most often denoted familial love and affection, are never used on their own in the New Testament. However, the former is used several times in compound words (Rom 1:31, Rom 12:10, 1 Tim 3:3). To describe passionate love between a man and a woman, ancient authors used the noun ἔρως and the verb ἐράω. At the same time, these terms were sometimes used to describe a mystical connection with the divine world. However, neither the Septuagint nor the New Testament ever uses these terms in reference to God, so as not to burden the relationship between God and humanity with pagan connotations. Moreover, these terms are absent entirely from the New Testament.

Finally, there was the noun ἀγάπη and the verb ἀγαπάω, which originally meant “to be pleased with, to treat with respect.” It was not used to convey strong feelings, spiritual and emotional unity, or passion; however, this allowed Christians to imbue it with their own specific meaning. In this regard, it is precisely these words that are almost always used in the New Testament to describe true Christian love.

Love as a feeling, an attitude, and a gift

The biblical view of the world holds that God’s love for the world He created is an undeserved gift from the Creator, which forms the foundation of our existence. This love is primary and unconditional: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son” (John 3:16). Moreover, it is unchanging, for with the Father of lights “there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17), and it extends to all, because He “desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4). At the same time, human love in the commonly accepted sense of the word is a sensual love, often linked to natural causes (Matt. 5:46). At the same time, it was clear to the Jews that love for God cannot be sensual and must differ from love for a human being. It arises from a conscious, volitional inner stance and turns out to be not a feeling, but an attitude toward God as an unconditional Value. However, in answering the lawyer’s question, the Savior unites love for God and love for one’s neighbor. If the first and greatest commandment in the law is: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Matt. 22:37), then the second does not merely follow it; it is like it: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” It was clear to the Jew that love for God must be unconditional, but it follows from Christ’s words that love for one’s neighbor, too, must not depend on sympathy or antipathy, on living conditions or circumstances; it is meant to be rational and free. Only with this understanding of love can the Savior’s call be understood: “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who mistreat you and persecute you” (Matt. 5:44). Man, created in the image of God and having departed from the fullness of that image through the Fall, is called, as a disciple, to become like the Teacher and in Him the Lord Himself: “that you may be sons of your Father in heaven, for He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous” (Matt. 5:45). The Law of Moses upheld love for one’s neighbor, yet at the same time sanctioned hatred of one’s enemy (Matt. 5:43), whereas Christ calls us to love everyone.

However, in its fullness, such love does not originate from human beings themselves, but is given as a gift from God. The good news that we were loved by God “while we were still sinners” (Rom. 5:8) gives rise to a reciprocal response from our souls, which is sustained and transformed by the Lord. In its fullness, Christ’s love can be manifested in the community of disciples, who are called to the unity of love in the image of the Father and the Son (John 14:21, 17:21). According to the Apostle Paul, it is the highest and most excellent gift of the Spirit, given in response to the disciples’ own zealous efforts (1 Cor 12:31). Being a gift of the Spirit, love is mysterious and defies any formal definition; it can be recognized only by its fruits: “Love is patient, love is kind; it does not envy; it does not boast; it is not proud. It does not dishonor others; it is not self-seeking; it is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails, even though prophecies will cease, tongues will fall silent, and knowledge will vanish. (1 Cor 13:4–8) It turns out to be what unites people and builds up the very Body of Christ. Revealing this thought to his disciples, the Apostle Paul wrote: “the whole body, being fitted and held together by every joint with which it is supplied, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love” (Eph. 4:16; cf. Col. 2:2).

Finally, the love of Christ is connected to the cross. Revealing the nature of this love, the Apostle John the Theologian writes: “We have come to know love by this, that He laid down His life for us” (1 John 3:16). At the same time, addressing His disciples, the Lord says: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; just as I have loved you” (John 13:34). From all this it follows that whoever seeks to abide in Christ’s love and learn His love is also called to take up his cross and follow Him. In practice, this love means a daily struggle against sin against God and one’s neighbor, in forgiveness and the pursuit of peace. In his time, St. Abba Pimen said: “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends (Jn.15:13). If anyone hears a harsh word—that is, an offensive word—and, though he might respond with a similar word, overcomes himself and does not speak; or if anyone, having been deceived, endures it and does not seek revenge on the deceiver—he lays down his life for his neighbor”[2]. Thus, in everyday life, bearing the cross turns out to be bearing the burdens of one’s neighbors, through which we fulfill the law of Christ (Gal 6:2). Love for one’s brother is directly related to love for God, and the latter is impossible without the former: “Whoever says, ‘I love God,’ yet hates his brother, is a liar; for whoever does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen?” (1 John 4:20).

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Love According to Conscience

In seeking to systematically describe love, one can draw upon the four areas of conscience discussed by St. Abba Dorotheus, or speak of three kinds of love: love for God, love for one’s neighbor, and love for the objects of the material world. All these kinds of love are possible for a person because he is the image of God, Who is love. The very capacity for love is rooted in human nature. At the same time, as a result of the Fall, a person cannot express love naturally and needs guidance and support. Some forms of love may seem natural and simple to him, while others may seem artificial and practically impossible. However, in practice, all of them require correction and healing.

When it comes to our relationship with God, people typically perceive His presence as support and assistance, viewing material well-being as the sole outcome of such love. However, the reality of a fallen world is such that God’s love can manifest itself through suffering and pain. Scripture speaks plainly on this: “For the Lord disciplines those He loves; and He disciplines every son He accepts” (Heb 12:6). Every such action of God is, by its very nature, salvific and, when properly understood, brings a person closer to salvation (Job 5:17–18). In turn, love for God is manifested in a person through the fulfillment of His will (John 14:15).

Love for others in a Christian is, on the one hand, a continuation of love for God, and on the other, an imitation of God’s love. In practice, this love breaks down into three distinct paths: love for oneself, for one’s neighbor, and for one’s enemy. At the same time, a believer is called to strive so that there is no distinction between these paths. First, love for oneself (philautia), which in a fallen world manifests as selfishness and self- centeredness, must originally be a desire for one’s own true good—that is, salvation and the fulfillment of the Creator’s plan in one’s life. Second, love for one’s neighbor manifests itself in the natural relationships between parents and children (in the sense of στοργή), in the romantic love between a man and a woman (ἔρως), in friendship (φιλία), and in affection. At the same time, alongside the natural feelings of tenderness, care, romantic love, and harmony in every person’s relationships, a Christian is called to manifest a willful and conscious love (ἀγάπη). In relationships with children, friends, or spouses, such love can be sustained by natural feelings, but it can also be burdened by them. Earthly love for children, when overshadowed by their disobedience, causes irritation, anger, and sometimes even hatred (Deut. 21:18–21). Earthly love between spouses may feel as strong as death, yet it is also filled with jealousy and strife (Prov 6:34–35); friendship may be a shared pursuit of ideals, yet it can also turn into rivalry and fierce competition (1 Sam 19). At all these stages, earthly love must be tested against genuine love for a person as a child of God, and one must strive to love them just as the Lord loves them.

A particularly difficult stage on the path of Christian life is love for one’s enemies. Explaining the stages of growth in this love, St. John Chrysostom advises: “Consider and count them, beginning with the first: the first degree is not to cause offense; the second is, when it has already been caused, not to repay the offender with equal evil; the third is not only to refrain from doing to the offender what you have suffered from him, but also to remain calm; the fourth is to subject yourself to suffering; the fifth—to give more than the one who causes the offense wants to take; the sixth—not to harbor hatred toward him; the seventh—even to love him; the eighth—to do him a favor; the ninth—to pray to God for him.” Patristic theology presents quite a few similar schemes, more or less detailed.

When it comes to loving one’s neighbor, it is very important to learn not to judge them. To do this, we must first remember that sin is not a violation of a formal rule, but a contradiction of God’s will for humanity. Despite the general framework set by the commandments and the goal of life with God, in specific situations the same actions can be more or less sinful for a person. This is because God knows a person’s age, upbringing, knowledge, and intentions, which are usually good in most people, since the soul—even in a sinful state—as created by God, strives for the good. It is another matter that it often chooses evil means to achieve this. Furthermore, only the Lord knows what temptations a person faces and what the state of their heart is. All this means that, even if we assess a neighbor’s action as a violation of a commandment, we are neither able nor should we objectively judge the person themselves, since the full context of their life remains hidden from us. Thus, condemnation, as our passing judgment, is always sinful, since it does not correspond to the truth about a person and depends on our own inner disposition. Reminding us of this, the Apostle Paul wrote: “Therefore do not judge anything before the time, until the Lord comes, who will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and reveal the intentions of the heart, and then each one will receive praise from God” (1 Cor 4:5). Warning us against despising people who fall into temptation, St. Maximus the Confessor writes: “Only he who carefully keeps the commandments and is truly initiated into God’s judgments does not abandon his friends when they are subjected to trials by God’s permission”[3].

Finally, love can be directed toward material objects. As God’s creation, the material world is inherently good. Of course, it should not be our highest value, and we cannot strive to save it. However, from the beginning, humanity was called to care for it and to live in such a way that God’s will is fulfilled through material objects. In the history of humanity, love for the material has played a tragic role, for, having doubted God, man trusted the created more than the Creator. The earth and all that was on it were given to people to possess, but after the Fall, in the struggle for control of resources, they began to constantly fight one another. As a result, a person’s attachment to things can literally become idolatry and completely turn them away from God. Warning of this danger, the Lord says: “You cannot serve both God and mammon [wealth]” (Matt. 6:24). He does not condemn the possession of material things itself, but emphasizes that one must seek first the Kingdom of God (Matt. 6:33). Love for material things should be expressed in caring for them, in using them properly on the path to salvation. It is precisely this thought that is expressed in the prayer intended for the consecration of any object: “Lord, send Your Holy Spirit with the highest blessing upon this object, so that, strengthened by the power of heavenly intercession, it may be useful for bodily salvation, intercession, and help to those who wish to use it, in Christ Jesus, our Lord.”

In concluding this overview of Christian relationships, it must be said that at every stage, the proper formation of the Christian conscience, on the one hand, and faithful ascetic effort, on the other, contribute to their attainment of their proper form. The conscience, guided by the Gospel and Church tradition, testifies to exactly how one should act in an encounter, whether one should trust or be cautious, and exactly how to show love so that it bears good fruit. Ascetic effort, for its part, involves training the will in the pursuit of the good and attaining a state in which the fulfillment of God’s will becomes the norm of life.

[1] TDOT 1.103

[2] Skitskii paterik o styazhanii evangel’skikh dobrodetelei : skazaniya ob izrecheniyakh i delakh svyatykh i blazhennykh ottsov Khristovoi Tserkvi [The Skete Patericon on the Acquisition of Evangelical Virtues : Tales of the Sayings and Deeds of the Holy and Blessed Fathers of Christ’s Church]. – Moscow : Izd-vo Moskovskogo podvorya Svyato-Troitskoi Sergievoi Lavry, 2001. P. 156

[3] Maximus the Confessor, Centurion on Love, IV, 92, 93, 94, 97.

In contrast to the atheistic view, according to which the world is random and all moral characteristics applied to it are exclusively subjective, Christianity affirms that the world was created by a good God and is inherently good. Thus, the psychological concept of basic trust in the world is transformed in Christianity into what, by analogy, could be called basic “trust in God.” However, unlike what was described by Erikson, trust in God is formed in adulthood and has a rational, rather than an emotional, basis; therefore, it is not a worldview but a specific form of relationship with God and the world He has created.

The semantic field of the concept of faith is multifaceted. In the language of the Old Testament, there are no direct analogies to the modern word “faith”. At the same time , the Hebrew word** aman** __ is considered the closest in meaning —to be faithful, reliable, steadfast, unshakable, but also “to be under supervision.” In the participle form, this verb means a nanny or a tutor. It is noteworthy that the English word “trust” etymologically traces back to Old Norse deru , which also means “to be firm, steadfast.” The New Testament πίστις signifies both trust in another and conviction in something. It is no coincidence that etymologically the word derives from the verb πείθω – to persuade. The Slavic word vera goes back to Proto-Indo-European *wěrā “trust, faith” and the adjective *wēros “true, faithful,” derived from *wēr-: *wer- “disposition, kindness”[1] . Thus, the invariant meaning of the concept of faith is linked to open, benevolent relationships in which one reveals the truth about oneself, and the other acknowledges it as true or genuine.

Turning to the Old Testament, we can say that God builds a relationship of trust with humanity. He entrusts to humanity the plan for the world He created: caring for the Garden of Eden, naming the animals, and abstaining from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, about which it is said, “On the day you eat of it, you will surely die” (Gen. 2:17). Man had no experience; what was expected of him was precisely trust in what God had said. The clear response to God’s trust is man’s distrust of Him, as he chooses to trust the serpent. When the serpent, pursuing his misanthropic goals, accuses God of lying, the woman trusts him and commits sin. Judging by the consequences, her action destroyed not only the developing relationship with God—from whom they are now trying in terror to hide behind the trees of paradise—but also the relationship between the people themselves. Instead of the trust that was expressed in their lack of shame, people now feel a judgmental and hostile gaze upon them.

The theme of mistrust runs like a thread through the entire Old Testament. Moreover, distrust of God is a consequence of the Fall (Gen. 3), whereas people’s distrust of one another is not only a result of sin but also a sad necessity, because a sinner cannot and should not trust another sinner (Jer. 9:4). Distrust manifests itself in sin, refusal to commune, conflict, and enmity. Thus, Cain already rejects God’s teaching and kills Abel, and by the time of the Flood, people’s thoughts have become evil “at all times.” Death in the waters of the Flood to a certain extent wipes out human civilization, while the covenant made with the righteous Noah opens the way to restoring the trust lost in the Fall. Important milestones on this path are God’s covenant with Abraham, as well as the covenant made at Mount Sinai.

Abraham’s calling and his act of faith became an example of a person’s genuine entrusting of himself to God. This example proves so important that the apostle calls Abraham “the father of all who believe” (Romans 4:11). In turn, the conclusion of the covenant at Sinai is important not only as a renewal of a trusting relationship with God, but also as an impetus for trusting relationships among people, who must see one another as neighbors. Considering that the word “trust” means “the fullness of faith”—its complete fulfillment—the one who trusts relies on the one in whom he trusts; he entrusts himself to that person, committing himself to another. God’s trust becomes especially evident when He becomes human. In response to His trust, we are called to trust Him: “Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father is in Me; but if not, believe Me because of the works themselves” (John 14:11). It is no coincidence that the Apostle Paul writes that through Christ we are called to return to the Father. Thus, trust is a state that is ontologically necessary for a person; it is precisely in this state that their openness to God and to other people as neighbors is revealed. The Church, as the gathering of Christ’s disciples, becomes a place where people learn to trust one another.

However, the disciples must not be completely naive, for they continue to live in a world that “lies in wickedness” (1 John 5:19). Warning them of coming trials, the Lord calls them to “be wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matt. 10:16). This means that a person is called to trust others, but to do so with discernment, not believing every spirit, but testing them to see “whether they are from God” (1 John 4:1). This is not about being suspicious, but simply about acting with caution, “not as unwise, but as wise people, making the most of the time, because the days are evil” (Eph 5:15–16).

[1] Shaposhnikov, A. K., comp. Etimologicheskiy slovar’ sovremennogo russkogo yazyka: v 2 t. T. 1. (A–N) [Etymological Dictionary of the Modern Russian Language: in 2 vols. Vol. 1. (A–N)]. Moscow: Flinta Publ.: Nauka Publ. 2010, — P. 102. This footnote seems to be in the wrong place

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