Ethical Potency and Impotency: The Pleasure of the Spirit Versus Law

The tendency is to connect ethics to law and moral striving or doing, but the biblical pattern is to remove the ethical from under the power of the law and to locate it with the Spirit and being (as opposed to doing). The fruit of the Spirit is the New Testament ethic, and in Paul’s explanation, cannot be regulated by law, as nothing can be posed against this reality (Gal 5:23), as this is ultimate reality beyond and before the law. The tendency may be to stunt Paul’s point, as merely to say the law does not touch upon these non-transgressive issues, but it does not touch on ethics of the Spirit which goes beyond ethics as mere regulation. Ethics is usually connected with regulating, guiding, and perhaps more than anything, stifling, stopping or suppressing. In regulating the sensuous there is a turn against the senses and pleasure, as if these are not an adequate medium for truth and goodness. Biblical ethics returns to life and being as the pure ground of the good and the fruits of the Spirit are embodied realizations. The choice posed between the ethics of the Spirit and law, is not only a choice of life or death, but life as given from an overflowing and original goodness and love (the all-encompassing embodied ethic), and ethics as duty assigned to the will (the tendency toward the disincarnate). In the former there is no system, measure, or determinate understanding, and in the latter all is reduced to the imperative of a particular system or category. This “categorical imperative” demands exercise of the will or a doing, while the gift of the Spirit precedes ethics and enables an ethical life, empowering and compelling through empowering ethical gifts.

Overflowing Goodness as the Power of the Spirit

Before any ethical system, there is the impetus and resource driving and providing for ethics; a goodness, which any particular system may shape, stunt, or accentuate according, to its perceived parameters. This goodness is a power, which is felt (it is an affect, or an emotion), which is not to reduce it to this, but it is an embodied power that takes hold and is expressed through the senses and produces an ethical atmosphere. Being, creation, humanity, is endowed with a worthiness which is its ground, but before the realization or cognition of this ground, there is participation in this goodness, and the realization of morals and ethics, is simply an attempt to understand and shape this gift. Before the understanding and shaping though, there is the sensation, the feel, the taste, of the good. Its sweetness, joy, peace, and radiance are felt. It may be felt and perceived according to the shaping force of the person, the culture, the place, but prior to everything is the reception, or the endowment. We are gifted with being in the world, though we may need to be reawakened to this reality.

As William Desmond describes, “We are awakened to something inexhaustible about the good of being at all. There is something too much about this for us. We are secretly sustained by it, but being so intimate with it, participating in it, we cannot get a fix on it.”[1] It is manifest in and through us, but we are so intimate with it, so familiar and sustained by this reality, that astonishment and joy at this elemental goodness may be obscured. Clarity may fade or be brought back into focus, according to the shaping milieu of life and circumstance, but what is also to be noticed in this flux is the affect which gauges understanding or its absence.

Pleasure as the Power of the Spirit

There is pleasure, delight, or an aesthetic potency made manifest in the recognition or realization of the good. We experience this bodily, but this bodily satisfaction is not simply physical, but points to an ontological depth, the pure goodness of being. This goodness does not by-pass the senses, but in the biblical understanding (which Friedrich Nietzsche also came to understand), this truth is received through the senses. Incarnational truth, is by definition, embodied and passing through the body. Pleasure may fade, but it does not pass away, but conveys a reality. As Desmond describes, “There is passing to this pleasure: it passes into us, it passes through and beyond us, it passes away. There is no absolute fixing of it. But something of the good of the ‘to be’ passes in this ‘being pleased’ of pleasure.”[2] We feel and absorb the potency of being as a recurrent and ever-giving possibility. It is the possibility that transcends us but in which we recognize or experience the transcendent. It points to the One enabling this transcendental realization, which may be the distinction between happiness and joy. Happiness indicates the ephemeral moment of experience, but joy is a spiritual realization. Desmond relates it to the daimon of eudaimonia: “The daimon is a being between the mortal and the divine, at the limit of the mortal and on the threshold of the divine.”[3] The power of the Spirit is at work in this middle domain, divinizing the mortal, which is not a stunting of pleasure, but its fulfillment.

As in the Song of Solomon, the flame of Yahweh is burning in the erotic. It is not that the erotic in the Song of Solomon is a metaphor for divine love, but the erotic is directly joined to enjoyment of the divine. The rabbinic focus, and that of the early Christians, on the Song of Songs, recognized that the depth of love is lit by the flame of Yahweh’s presence (8:6). The one flesh relation between male and female is realized only in the presence of this binding, passionate, presence. Paul, likewise, pictures the act of marriage as completed in the body of Christ (Eph. 5:32). Even Plato describes eros as binding mortals and divinities in the whole. Ecstatic love and pleasure are the power of the ethical and not its diminishment, though focus on the pleasure per se may be distorted in imagining it as an end in itself. Spirituality does not oppose pleasure but traces it to its source and opens the possibility of its continual renewal. According to Rabbi Akiba: “All of time is not as worthy as the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel, for all of the songs are holy, but the Song of Songs is the holiest of holies.”[4] The pleasure of God mixed with the pleasure of life, and all of life as taking delight in divine pleasure, is the realization of the Spirit recognized in the Song.

The Deadly Impotency of the Law

We may be more familiar with life’s affect through the negative emotions, which Paul relates directly to the law. Fear and shame, both describe loss or shrinking engagement with the world, induced by the law (Rom 7:7ff). This affect is a somatic or bodily quality, though not this alone, but the inward turn of shame or the negative affects of jealousy, envy, or fear are written on the body. They are felt viscerally and experienced as a psychological pain. Paul describes his body being colonized by an alien force (Rom 7:9). As he describes in Galatians, the individual is subject to the flesh: “Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, envying, drunkenness, carousing” (Gal 5:19-21). These deeds of the flesh are caught up in the law, and even inspired by the law in a covetous and deceived grasp for reality (Rom 7:7ff).

Though Immanuel Kant did not intend to, he illustrates how this is the case. He arrives at what he calls “the supreme principle of morality” which he captures in his categorical imperative: “act only in accordance with that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it become a universal law.”[5] The Kantian maxim does not depend upon anything residing outside of the maxim or outside of the rational will of the one following the maxim. Kant equates the will, not with “a presupposed condition” or “any inclination” but he connects this maxim directly and only with the power of the will.[6] He pictures the law as regulating such things as sexual love, and presumes adultery would not be committed were gallows awaiting transgressors. He cannot recognize that the threat of death may heighten perverse pleasure (Paul says as much in Rom 1:32).

In the description of Alenka Zupančič, the “Freudian blow” to Kant’s philosophical ethics is to recognize that the moral law or what Kant calls the “categorical imperative” is in fact nothing other than the superego, or what Paul would call the law.  Where Kant had sought to set ethics on a foundation of reason and will, Freud has hit upon the intertwining of the will, duty, and law as the deep pathological malady of the human race. As Zupančič concludes, “In so far as it has its origins in the constitution of the superego, ethics becomes nothing more than a convenient tool for any ideology which may try to pass off its own commandments as the truly authentic, spontaneous and ‘honorable inclinations’ of the subject.”[7]  The pleasure found in pain, either masochistic or sadistic, is the perverse pleasure of serving the bounded law of the will.[8] There is a manufactured reality enacted in the will which only touches upon the negation of reality in unpleasure. The Platonic forms or the absolutely transcendent good which Jacques Lacan will refer to this as the “imaginary,” evokes service of the unreal while abandoning reality. This means the greater the pain, the more heightened the punishing asceticism, the greater the suppression of this world, and thus the greater the pleasure (pure masochism).

The unspiritual is marked by descent rather than the transcendent, and in the Bible, is described as descent into the grave. The grave is personified, using the Hebrew term Sheol, to represent an insatiable, greedy monster with an unyielding desire to consume the living. The human appetite is like Sheol, and like death, never satisfied (Hab 2:5). “Sheol and Abaddon are never satisfied, and never satisfied are the eyes of man” (Prov 27:20). Sex and death, or erotic pleasure unto death, describe a kind of transdescedence, finding ultimate pleasure in near death experience. Autoerotic Asphyxiation or erotic choking, points directly to how death, rather than life, poses the only ecstatic possibility for some. Rather than an embrace of life, there is a direct pursuit or shutting off of life, but this illustrates how the wires of life and death can be crossed. As with Paul’s adulteress woman, it may be that pleasure is thought possible only when “consorting against the law” (Rom 7:3). Unlawful pleasure would exceed the law by breaking it.

The Pleasures of Life in the Spirit in Excess of the Law

Trust, the generosity of others, or love, are necessary for giving and sustaining life. We are weaned and determined by this good, which is neither within our capacity for measure or control, but we know and feel and experience the beauty as it irradiates and engulfs us. “There is an aesthetic givenness of the ethos of being to our senses and our bodies. . . . The incarnate good of the world is in rapport with our response to goodness and our being as good.”[9] Feelings of pleasure, gratitude, awe, convey the potency of this goodness.

The gifts of the Spirit fuse the power of life with pleasurable affects, such as love, joy, peace, patience, none of which can be reduced to an emotion but none of which are understood apart from the emotional affect. The good can be directly experienced and this shows itself in the pleasurable fruits of the Spirit. The Spirit insinuates herself into the concrete experience of life, drawing together in love (rather than separating by law). The gift of the Spirit is shared life, and all of the gifts of the Spirit are aimed at promoting this communion with life. We are given life in the community of family, but then pointed to a more expansive communion. “‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church” (Eph 5:31–32).

In Desmond’s description, “We are pointed to a community of the good beyond self-determination, a community already at work in the incognito of its surplus generosity, enabling the powers of self and other to be determining of themselves, giving them to be themselves, giving also the ethos of possibility wherein our immanent powers can be more truly realized.”[10] The gifts of the Spirit are the continuing work of the original gift of life. “This is not a moral value reflecting our self-determining powers, but an ontological worth with ethical radiations. It is an intimate goodness to being as given to be, given to be by God as the ultimate origin and end of all finite goods.”[11] The gift continues, working more intimately within than we can perceive, bringing the original gift to its goal of life, to a life more abundantly realized (John 10:10).

In summary, the “potencies of the ethical” attached to goodness show themselves in the power of the Spirit. Goodness is the source and the resource prior to or behind ethics; the potency or power, which any particular ethical understanding taps into but which it may also repress. These potencies enter differently into any particular ethical system, but what any system tends to do is lose contact with its originary source. We get stuck on the law or the ethical system and miss the goodness preceding and exceeding the system. We need awakening to “our constant ethical powers and abiding endowments.”[12] The awakening of the Spirit is nothing less than realization of this life giving ethical empowerment.


[1] William Desmond, Ethics and the Between (New York: State University of New York Press, 2001) 66. Chapter 6 is entitled “Potencies of the Ethical: On the Sources of Being Good.”

[2] Ethics and the Between, 67.

[3] Ethics and the Between, 69.

[4] Cited in Abraham Josua Heschel, The Sabbath: its meaning for modern man (New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 2005) 98.

[5] Immanuel Kant, Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals, Edited and translated by Allen W. Wood (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), 8 (Ak 4:392) 38.

[6] Metaphysics of Morals, 38.

[7] Alenka Zupančič, Ethics of the Real:  Kant, Lacan (New York: Verso, 2000) 1.

[8] In the explanation of Maximus, the attachment to the sensory or the finite and passable, results in a masochistic play between pleasure and pain. “Wanting to escape the oppressive sensation of pain, we sought refuge in pleasure, attempting to console our nature when it was hard-pressed with pain’s torment.” Maximus the Confessor, On Difficulties in Sacred Scripture: The Responses to Thalassios, trans. Fr. Maximos Constas (Washington D. C.:  The Catholic University of America Press) 61.6, p. 437.

[9] Ethics and the Between, 66.

[10] Ethics and the Between, 71

[11] Ethics and the Between, 73.

[12] Ethics and the Between, 63

Do We Need the Insight of Islam to See Ourselves Rightly?

One of the most successful bridge builders to other religions was the Catholic Monk, Thomas Merton, who emphasized the need for a Christocentric understanding for engagement with other religions and traditions. His was not the watered-down approach which imagined it was enough to reason together, but like Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Nazi Germany, he saw the times as requiring drastic and emergency measures. With Bonhoeffer he concurs, people with good intentions who imagine that a little reason will suffice do not understand either the depths of evil or of the holy. “The news that God has become man strikes at the very heart of an age in which the good and the wicked regard either scorn for man or the idolization of man as the highest attainable wisdom.”[1]

Merton’s advocacy of peace, without compromise, at once appreciated that other religions recognize peace and goodness are to be equated with God, but he also recognized that reasoning together was inadequate to stand-up against political expediency. “Men do not agree in moral reasoning. They concur in the emotional use of slogans and political formulas.”[2] The persuasive power of fear and desire, such as that dealt out by the Nazis or our own Nazified political situation, is untouched by the call to ethical considerations. The evil done in the name of religion, in the name of the good, by those committed to lies and murder, will be unphased by moral or religious theory. The evil and destructiveness of the day, seemingly determined to ignite a world conflagration, is the necessary preparation for man to become a god, or for the president to be the Messiah.

We might have wished the Nazis saw themselves through the eyes of those they were destroying. Shouldn’t we wish the same thing for the United States at this moment. That it might see itself through the eyes of the hundreds of parents slain at a girls school, that it might see itself through the eyes of those suffering oppression and terror in Iran and Gaza. Bonhoeffer understood that the church of his day had failed, as it had been coopted by the Nazi regime. The sickness was too deep for a sermon, a philosophical correction, an ethical or religious discussion, but doesn’t that describe this present moment in the United States? Isn’t the best thing that could happen, in order to expose this present delusion, recognition that Iranians – those whom our military would destroy, may also be in the best position to expose the lie of the times? Isn’t that the point of loving the enemy, that we be enabled to see things through their eyes? If we simply demonize the enemy, and make no attempt to see the good in them, then we also will not appreciate where they are right in their judgment of us. According to Merton, “As long as we do not have this love, as long as this love is not active and effective in our lives (for words and good wishes will never suffice) we have no real access to the truth. At least not to moral truth.”[3]

We are living at a time when Christians would identify themselves over and against the culture of Islam, imagining the West is a Christian culture. In the rhetoric of various evangelical leaders (as Franklin Graham has put it), Islam is “a very evil and wicked religion” and war seems to be part of a “necessary” clash of religions and civilizations? This seemingly Medieval perception is precisely that – Medieval in its theological roots. Steve Bannon, perhaps the key thinker behind Donald Trump, believes the United States is a Christian nation, not just in the sense that a majority of Americans describe themselves as Christians, but also in the sense that the country’s culture is Christian. This means our war with evil is a literal war against Islam: “We” in the West must affirm our Christian identity or we will be overrun by dangerous outsiders (Islamists) who will impose a different identity upon us. In a speech at the Vatican, he said, “We are in an outright war against jihadist Islamic fascism.” An article in La Civiltà Cattolica, a Vatican-vetted journal, singled out Bannon as a “supporter of apocalyptic geopolitics,” the logic of which is “no different from the one that inspires Islamic fundamentalism.” This notion of a clash of civilizations is a delusion.

Christians are not those who align with Western civilization over and against Islamic civilization. The fear of Islam is on the order of a previous generation’s fear of socialism. As a child in Texas, it seemed all of the evils of the world could be attributed to the communists and socialists, and what we were blind to was the “socialist” aspect of the gospel. Because of this inability, Christianity was reimagined as a capitalistic religion, in which concern for the poor was largely absent, and the injustices of Western oppression were excused or made invisible; which is not to excuse or deny the problems of communism, but the demonization of the enemy blinds to the value in their critical perspective on ourselves.

If this is true of “godless communism,” it is even more profoundly true of our coreligionists. Islam shares the early texts of the Bible and a high regard for Christ. The goodness, beauty, and love of God, as with Christians, is a first order reality. According to Islamist Seyyed Nasr, “All reality issues from the One, Who is the sole absolute Reality, which is also absolute Beauty. As the One manifests the many on various levels of cosmic existence, this absolute Beauty is also manifested along with existence, of which it is the splendor like the aura around the sun.”[4] In Sufism, aesthetics is part of ethics and spiritual discipline. One is trained to recognize Absolute Beauty as of God, and it is God for whom the soul yearns in its appreciation of the beautiful. Nasr appeals to Plotinus: “the soul strives after beauty and beauty is a manifestation of that spiritual power that animates all levels of reality. The Sufis agree completely with this view, which once dominated Western aesthetics but was marginalized in the West. . .”[5]

Aesthetics, in Islam, developed as a recognition that all beauty is a reflection of divine beauty, a profound spiritual insight, which may not be entirely lacking in the West, but in my branch of the faith at least, aesthetics has never been a focus. Yet who could disagree with Nasr’s assessment: “The supreme beauty is the beauty of the Supreme Reality; absolute beauty is the beauty of the Absolute. Even the most intense beauty experienced in this world in the beautiful face of a loved one or a supreme work of art or of virgin nature or even the perfume of the soul of a saint is a reflection of divine Beauty.”[6] As the Song of Solomon states it, “For love is as strong as death, Jealousy is as severe as Sheol; Its flashes are flashes of fire, The very flame of the Lord” (So 8:6).

Islam, like Christianity and Judaism, attaches great significance not only to the original garden scene of paradise, but to its reenactment in human love. Christians may have lost this significance of peace and love preserved at the heart of Islam: “According to the Quran and a saying of the Prophet, the greeting of the people of Paradise, of the Garden, is salam, or peace; hence the ordinary Muslim greeting, al-salām” ‘alaykim, or ‘peace be upon you.’”[7] Christians might learn from the Islamic mystical tradition, in its assigning spiritual significance to human sexuality: “a sacred reality, hence to be governed by the Sacred Law, [and] not as a sinful act simply resulting from the fall.”[8] Could it be that Western Christianity, plagued as it is with sexual transgression, might benefit from the understanding that “sexual union, which is the most powerful sensuous urge within most human beings, is in reality the search of the soul for union with God, especially when human union is combined with love”?[9]

Connecting human beauty to the divine also comes with a certain realism, seemingly lacking in Western youth driven culture. Outward beauty tends to fade, absent liposuction and face lifts etc., and is primarily the domain of the young. “As we grow older our actions based on our choices and free will become evermore reflected in our outward countenance, and inner beauty, in the case of those who possess such beauty, begins to dominate the outward while the original God-given outward beauty usually fades away.”[10] Still, there is an unabashed recognition of beauty: the “female face reveals a Divine Quality and unveils a Divine Mystery.”[11] Lovers of God in Sufism, are lovers of beauty, which is inseparable “from the Divine Reality and which, being related to the infinitude of the Divine, brings about total peace and liberates the soul from all fetters of restrictive existence.”[12] Shouldn’t Christians share this profound sense of beauty which “liberates” and brings “peace”?

A Christianity and a Western culture driven by egoism also might learn from the Islamic notion that love “is always combined with some degree of dying to one’s ego, to one’s desires, to one’s preferences for the sake of the other.” This is the case “because human love is itself a reflection of Divine Love, which we can experience only after the death of our ego, and can lead to the Divine those souls who are fortunate enough to have experienced this love.”[13] Are Western evangelicals blind and forgiving of the rape culture surrounding Trump and Jeffrey Epstein and the Catholic and Evangelical Church because they are missing the insight which Sufism might provide? Desire of the ultimate kind is fulfilled only by the Divine.

Maybe it is time to listen to our so-called “enemies” to gain the insight gone missing in Western Christianity, the insight to which Islam appeals: “When we ponder the terms pace, shalom, shanti, and salam in Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, and Islam respectively and their ubiquitous usage by the followers of these religions, as well as terms with the same meaning used elsewhere, we become aware of the universality of this yearning.”[14] Absent focus on the peace longed for in the world religions, the gospel is perverted and its potential to address the hope of the nations relinquished.

When Christians take up the sword in civilizational war imagining this crusader mentality is Christian, they have missed the Christian faith. This civilizational security is not the security of Christ. In addition to denying enemy love, taking up the sword and slaying the enemy is to slaughter the very prophetic voice that is needed. As Christians faced with a Medieval form of Christianity, we must turn firmly from the means and method of empire or Christian civilization. We are not to seek power and security through the defeat of Islam in war. The danger is that in aligning with the powers and methods of empire, Christians have joined forces with the counter-Kingdom of the anti-Christ and have slain the very enemy who might have provided kingdom insight – that of the loved enemy.


[1] Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966) 58. Merton is quoting but Bonhoeffer, but gives no footnote.

[2] Ibid, 59.

[3] Ibid, 63.

[4] Seyyed Hossein, Nasr, The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition (New York: Harper One, 2007) 71.

[5] Ibid, 72.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid, 78.

[8] Ibid, 65.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid, 74.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Ibid, 66.

[14] Ibid, 78.