“Why do you say Romantic Love is a lie?”
“Well because it is… A gigantic lie that we’ve been sold on for the last 400 or more years in narrative form and it’s to the point now where no one recognizes that when ‘Romantic Love’ ends that’s when the hard work of marriage takes over. No one celebrates that.”
“How would you celebrate it, though? If not with cards or presents or gifts or anything?”
“I’m not sure…”
So ran the conversation more than a month ago; a conversation that began after Bart took a gander at part of my thesis and began asking me questions about some of it and then asking questions about our upcoming anniversary. I’ve been living in this conversation as this coming Friday drew near. I’ve been pondering the ways we’ve been (and when I say we I mean every workaday family with parents in the grind) cheated of real celebrations of real relationships.
Because marriages that work are marriages that have been worked for, fought for, have had not just a string of photogenic moments that were captured to be plastered on walls and feeds. They’re the bonds that people outside of them trust exist.
As is often the case, when I go looking for the roots of what I’ve read somewhere, I discovered that I could not lay my hands on the proof that the ancient Greeks had seven words for love. Oh, I could find them online, but I could find nothing beyond what I could easily find online. When I took my search for the seven to the university library I came back with only four: Eros, Storge, Philia and Agape. I could find no mention of Pragma, Mania, or Philautia. This does not mean that they do not exist, but it means that (because I cannot read Greek or search in the original language) I cannot put my skills as a researcher to work finding these in a proper text.
So I will stay with the four I was able to find (in C. S. Lewis’ The Four Loves) and I will leave the others for now, because these four are a good base to begin with.
I wish to say something else first, the temptation to go always back to the Greeks and their traditions for anything is an equally hindering impulse. There are thousands of cultures on the Earth. The Greeks wrote a great deal, published a great deal and preserved a great deal. That we still turn to their modes to justify the present is both an accident and a collusion of historical and cultural practice, and of this, I am not unaware. It would be truly an engaging study to delve into the ancient writings of many cultures and explore their perceptions, divisions, and catalogues of Love, but starting with Greece and what I can get my hands on in the “now” is a good, if finite and incomplete beginning.
Storge– in Lewis’ words, comprises both a Need-love and a Gift-love. A Need-love which inspires Gift-love, and a Gift-love whose existence depends upon the needing. It is a love without discretion because it can exist between unequals, but this existence, unpredicated upon discernment, does not turn around and confer the divine universality of Agape upon it. It is affection unembroidered by understanding. As such it is (in Lewis’ reading) the most base form of Love because it survives all inequalities, but without a rational basis for its survival. It is a Love born only of familiarity and borne merely because of familiarity. In other words, it is a Love that constantly requires the vigilance of the heart and mind because it is the Love we are most likely to betray all humanity through. I think here of the grotesque behaviours I have countenanced through my silence on them because of the familiarity of those I Storge. I make excuses for their behaviours though I was in all honour bound to remonstrate with them. Because of Storge I silenced the part of my conscience that cried out for me to speak up. Storge is not to be eliminated, but to be vigilant about.
Philia— Friendship. I greatly enjoy Lewis’ words on this one so I will quote him in all the glory of his intellect.
To the Ancients, Friendship seemed the happiest and most fully human of all loves; the crown of life and the school of virtue. The modern world, in comparison, ignores it. We admit of course that besides a wife and a family a man needs a few ‘friends’. But the very tone of the admission, and the sort of acquaintanceships which those who make it would describe as ‘friendships’, show clearly that what they are talking about has very little to do with that Philia which Aristotle classified among the virtues or that Amicitia on which Cicero wrote a book. (Lewis 1960: 72 and 73)
Happily, I am able to challenge the truth of this. Perhaps in Lewis’ time, Philia was little regarded. I am most overjoyed to write that in 2020 I can report that my parents, at least, told me when I started dating that “All the best marriages are built off of strong friendships.”
I can also say that I relate to the statement above in its exaltation of friendship. I thought that there might be something wrong with me as I got into the later years of puberty, then the beginnings of adulthood and it persisted that there was only one close “friend” besides my sister. But as I grew older I came to know that real friendship is rare, and it blesses exactly as is written there, “the crown of life and the school of virtue.” I couldn’t think of more fitting words for my oldest friend. She has been exactly that description in my life. I think of the friends of the people I know, and they describe those close friendships in much the same way, “My rock. The person I can always count on. The person I trust.”
No, Lewis, I must say that a reversal has taken root in my modern world. Your modern world neglected friendship, but mine has recaptured the sacredness and value of it.
And I call that a victory for humanity.
This (so to call it) ‘non-natural’ quality in Friendship goes far to explain why it was exalted in ancient and medieval times and has come to be made light of in our own. The deepest and most permanent thought of those ages was ascetic and world-renouncing. Nature and emotion and the body were feared as dangers to our souls, or despised as degradations of our human status. Inevitably that sort of love was most prized which seemed most independent, or even defiant, of mere nature. Affection and Eros were too obviously connected with our nerves, too obviously shared with the brutes [our animal nature]. You could feel these tugging at your guts and fluttering in your diaphragm. But in Friendship– in that luminous, tranquil, rational world of relationships freely chosen– you got away from all that. This alone, of all the loves, seemed to raise you to the level of gods or angels. (Lewis, 1960: 74-75
The funny thing about marriage is that our narrative stories paint an image of “Love” between a man and a woman as belonging only to Eros. But Eros will die. We know that it is of finite duration. We know that fires go out, men and women age, lust disintegrates, and if there remains no Philia to take over where Eros was vanquished by time, too many obligations, the strain of rearing children, a pandemic and poverty, the marriage has no energy to continue.
I look around at the hundreds of marriages (literally hundreds) that I know that have failed. I look at the number of marriages I know that have stood the test of time (maybe 50 or so), and I know that the reason those other marriages ended was often because Eros can get you into a marriage, but it can’t make it work. Storge can keep it alive for a time, but even ‘familiarity breeds contempt.’ Relationships between man and wife disintegrate because Philia never found its way in. An unnatural alliance. A luminous, tranquil space where both individuals choose one another every day, not because of the humdrum and its comfortable sameness, but despite the comfortable sameness. The active choosing, the mindfulness embedded in the rational choice not engendered of familiarity or lust (and lust here is not purely sexual, but a stronger iteration of the idea of temporal desire), is the key to the shackles of the lie we’re all sold in “Romantic Love.” Shackles we gratefully don believing that to have been a choice because, “Someone wants me, and I want them in return.”
Eros– To be thoroughly honest, one should read this chapter. It’s a hard chapter owing to the depth of the philosophy, but the reading is important because reading as an active search within the self for the meaning distributed from another’s hands is an act of reverence. To summarize the great and powerful thought (powerful through its thorough depth) of Lewis here would be to do actual disservice to it. I summarize only what I must, then, to make my own thoughts plain, but I strongly advise that anyone who reads this, read Lewis’ chapter on Eros for yourselves, if not the whole book. This chapter is one of peculiar and defined brilliance.
Eros is the plane humanity moves to when it creates an altar out of another’s existence. We call it ‘being in Love,’ but we are the pieces of sacrifice on that alter just as the other’s objective reality has also been sacrificed, and this is the crux of the reason why Eros will die. We are human and that deeply sacrificial love, that alter is not ours to make though we all will at some point. We will slave (and enslave) ourselves to the worship of another human and when the fog of that masochistic desire to vanish into the other person fades we’re left with only our humanity and theirs… And the pitiful nature of that humanity usually smotes us to the core. Marriages built only on Eros are doomed.
Some of them undergo tremendous stress and then rise above the crisis. It is these marriages that often endure to the end of the couple’s life together. I know two such marriages personally. One was my parent’s marriage. The other is a young marriage that survived catastrophe because of the strength of the souls within it. They reached back out towards each other and saved their marriage and each other in the doing. In many ways I look up to that couple as an example of how determined and beautiful Love can be, and how we can be saved through it.
Many marriages built on Eros turn to active hate because the thing you once worshipped could never have deserved your devotion. The intensity of your wasted investment recoils into self-loathing and you in turn unleash that as hatred upon your partner. Other marriages collapse under the weight of those expectations or dissolve quietly once the altar was dismantled. This is the soul-destroying conceptualization of Love that St. Paul spotted in marriage: the temptation to idolize the Beloved, and, in truth, our modern conception of the giant “white wedding” is much in service to this idolatry. We’re embodying our worship of the other simultaneously declaring that our union, our wish to no longer be single, but united be blessed by God. I understand St. Paul, at present, better than I understand our modern customs of marriage…
But, then, again, I’m a confirmed iconoclast. It’s what I was put on this Earth to do, so here I am.
Above is what I put together reading the chapter and adapting my own thoughts to it, but here I summarize Lewis, and it is, I hope and pray, justice to him. In part of the chapter where he separates the over-solemnization of the sexual participation of Eros from the rest of the story of Eros transcendent, he opens the door to where I believe, as my parents did, that Philia is what a marriage that will last is built on. We laugh with our friends. Sex, once it has lost its fervor, deprived of its worshipful space, reincarnated between a couple who survived the altar and its ruin, resumes its laughter and humor.
No, I’m not talking about smut, but joy. The funny thing about marriage is how much laughter and joy you stand to gain if everything in it isn’t so bloody serious. The hard work of marriage, arguably the hardest work, is not letting the joy be taken away by the dissolution of Eros right at the same moment that all the real world work sets in. The childrearing, the homesteading, the car payments, the long nights and too short time for reconnecting with one another beyond, “Good morning, Good bye, Hello and Goodnight, Asshole!”
I mean it. If the laughter, the joy, the choice, the silliness of Life has disintegrated then there’s very little means for the pair of you to recapture the freedom and tranquility of Philia. And that’s just plain hard because Storge can’t replace Philia– familiarity and comfort are no fit replacements for freedom and joy, and neither are they the source of those two requirements for a life together.
Agape— Well, and here, you’ll just have to forgive me if this next section makes you turn away from my words and spit in disgust. I’m a Christian, more correctly, an Episcopalian, and so my world-view includes a devout and steadfast love of God, and this was also true for Lewis. I want to bring up two examples of why a marriage can’t survive without Agape. One comes from a meme I saw at some point.
“Nice wedding, now invite me into the marriage.” — God
I have no idea who first wrote it, where I first read it, but it stuck. I saw it and thought, yeah… Without God there, there’s little hope for the marriage.
The loves prove that they are unworthy to take the place of God by the fact that they cannot even remain themselves and do what they promise to do without God’s help. Why prove that some petty princeling is not the lawful Emperor when without the Emperor’s support he cannot even keep his subordinate throne and make peace in his little province… Even for their own sakes the loves must submit to be second things if they are to remain the things they want to be. In this yoke lies their true freedom; they ‘are taller when they bow’. For when God rules in a human heart, though He may sometimes have to remove certain of its native authorities altogether, He often continues others in their offices and, by subjecting their authority to His, gives it for the first time a firm basis. Emerson has said, ‘When half-gods go, the gods arrive.’ (Lewis 1960: 152)
Philia, Eros, Storge are not substitutes for Agape. Poor Simon Peter has a painful moment in the gospel of John. I can’t read Greek, but have read explanations of the translation of that terrible moment when Jesus asks him three times whether or not Simon Peter “loves” him. In Greek, he’s not asking the same word three times, but each time Simon Peter replies with the same verb.
“Simon Ioannou, agapas me?”
“Nai, Kyrie; su oidas oti philo se.”
“Simon Ioannou, agapas me?”
“Nai, Kyrie; su oidas oti philo se.”
“Simon Ioannou, phileis me?”
Elypethe o Petros oti eipen auto to triton Phleis me
“Kyrie panta sy oidas sy ginoskeis oti philio se.”
That line between the final repetition from Simon called Peter is often read in English along the lines of, “Peter was grieved because Jesus asked him whether he loved him a third time.” A better translation of this would preserve the case structure of the language in which the emphasis falls on the altered verb because it comes at the end of the sentence and this is a trait that modern Russian shares with ancient Greek: you emphasize an idea with word order while pinning meaning with the case.
“Peter was grieved because Jesus had asked him at the third time, “Do you Philein me?”
Peter was not grieved because he was being asked a third time. He was grieved because he heard the change in verb. The Lord came to where he was, met his needs, and ceased asking for transcendental love, but the knowledge that he brought the Lord to his level rather than rising to the Lord’s gave him pain. This is the beginning for Simon called Peter, and it’s the beginning for the celebration of the real work of marriage too. The Lord is there at the wedding, He meets us wherever we are in the stages of marriage, and tells us that working for Agape is the way forwards. Footstep after footstep, together.
Like the Catholic Church, Episcopalianism holds marriage as a sacrament: an outward sign of an inward and spiritual grace. In the Book of Common Prayer the prayer directly after the exchanging of vows, the celebrant says, (words that have never been spoken over me in marriage)
Look mercifully upon this man and this woman who come to you seeking your blessing, and assist them with your grace, that with true fidelity and steadfast love they may honor and keep the promises and vows they make…
Arguably the word “love” in there would be an entreaty for God to invest them with the power of Agape because without it they will not be able to fulfill what they have promised each other in Eros or Philia. “When half-gods go, the gods arrive.” Their promises, without the Agape of God will stay empty even should they obtain Philia out of Eros, joy from sameness, and laughter from the sadnesses of every day.
“How would you celebrate the everyday hard work of marriage?”
I think I’d keep on it, searching for Agape, continuing to build on our work together in Philia, and acknowledge the journey Eros sent us down together seven years ago.
Happy Anniversary, my Love.
Posted in Uncategorized