Divine love in Christian analytic philosophy of religion through feminist lens

Compared to other topics and divine traits, divine love has received less focused attention in Christian analytic philosophy of religion. If not ignored or only mentioned briefly, discussions of divine love are often subsumed under the attribute of omnibenevolence, which is usually discussed in terms of goodness broadly and not love specifically.Footnote ¹ One might wonder about this lack, especially given the emphasis on divine love in the history of Christian thought, the Bible, and Christian ethics. To call attention to just two examples of the import of divine love for the Christian tradition, note the following. At various points in Scripture, Christians are called to imitate God in moral perfection and love.Footnote ² Additionally, divine love is taken to be prior to human love, being the reason for why we love.Footnote ³

A notable exception can be found in Open Theism, on which it is most paradigmatically thought that divine love involves desire for genuine reciprocity and so there must be free will and an open (non-determined) future.Footnote ⁴ This idea is typically thought to have further consequences for divine nature, especially impacting how one understands divine power and knowledge.Footnote ⁵ At the end of this section, I will discuss Open Theism as it relates to my argument, since it is easier to do so with the details of the intervention on board. Another exception to the current literary landscape is analytic theologian Jordan Wessling’s Love Divine. Wessling describes the current state of theological and philosophical literature similarly, emphasizing the great import of divine love for the Christian tradition and yet arguing that this has not been adequately reflected in the literature. Instead, the current literature often involves shallow reference to divine love without clear and substantial definition, or ‘systematic detail’ (Wessling Reference Wessling, Rea and Crisp2020, 7). While Wessling highlights the need for a deeper treatment of divine love and offers his own value-centric account, he does not offer a diagnosis for this oversight.

I suggest that a compelling way to view the dearth of work on the topic of divine love in Christian analytic philosophy of religion is to see it through a feminist lens. From this perspective, one can understand the relative neglect as the result of a prevailing masculinized vision of God that leaves little room for understanding God as loving, since love is a trait that has historically been associated with the ‘feminine’.

The idea that philosophers of religion (in general) have treated religious themes with a ‘masculine’ valence is far from a new suggestion. The pioneers of feminist philosophy of religion, Pamela Sue Anderson and Grace Jantzen, offered their own extensive discussions of the reigning masculinist approach in philosophy of religion.Footnote ⁶ Frankenberry and Rubenstein (Reference Frankenberry, Rubenstein, Zalta and Nodelman2025) have also written a Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy article on the topic, entitled ‘Feminist Philosophy of Religion’, which discusses feminist critiques of common masculinist views of God at great length. Intriguingly, the entry also summarizes an insightful reflection by Frankenberry and Marilyn Thie on how philosophy of religion has been especially resistant to feminist influence, as compared to theology.Footnote ⁷ Sarah Coakley has also recognized a special resistance within analytic philosophy of religion to feminist influence. In the opening paragraph to her contribution to The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy of Religion, Coakley illustrates the situation in the following way:

In chapter 6 of her book, Powers and Submissions, Coakley makes the same point and offers examples of how this inattention to gender influences how topics are conceptualized, including the concept of God (Reference Coakley, Jones and Ayres2002). Coakley contends that there are reigning ‘masculinist visions’ of God present in the field, with the overall result being a view of God as ‘an “individual” of unrivaled power and autonomy who takes on the traditional attributes of classical theism, but more revealingly mirrors a (masculinist) vision of the self specific to the Enlightenment’ (Reference Coakley, Jones and Ayres2002, 101). On this view, divine nature is largely marked by individualism, freedom, control, and power.

If the reigning view of God is one of independence, freedom, control, and power, it makes sense that the relational and reciprocal, or love, would be underrepresented in the literature. To echo Coakley’s own words, ‘what is palpably missing is a sustained or positive reflection on the nurturing and all-encompassing dimensions of divine love’ (Reference Coakley, Jones and Ayres2002, 101).Footnote ⁸ Looking at the situation with a feminist lens, then, we might diagnose the dearth of focused attention on divine love in analytic philosophy of religion as a symptom of a particular understanding of God that has created the conditions under which it is difficult, if not impossible, to envision God to be meaningfully, reciprocally, and vulnerably related to humanity.

Moreover, this feminist perspective on the literary landscape suggests a way forward: If it is right to say that past conceptions of the divine have inadequately developed divine lovingness due to implicit sexism and prioritization of the ‘masculine’ at the expense of the ‘feminine’, the way forward is to bring greater attention to the neglected feminine. To do so, we must carve out a substantial place for divine love in the first place, identifying it as a key aspect of divine nature.

Furthermore, adequately addressing the feminist concern requires robustly clarifying the nature of divine love, with special attention to the neglected feminine. If we emphasize love in divine nature, the details of how we understand love matters significantly because it will shape our understanding of the divine nature. A different view of divine love will result in a different rendering of God. Attention should be given to the neglected feminine here too. Coakley gestures at this point when she recommends a move away from understanding the divine–human relation in ‘competitive terms’ where two radically free individuals vie for autonomy and towards a vision of a more complex ‘nurturing’ interplay (Coakley Reference Coakley, Jones and Ayres2002, 101).

Additionally, if our treatment of divine love is to meet the feminist concerns raised, it cannot merely be a matter of adding love to the list of divine traits, but it must also result in a transformed view of God. Only by such a transformation will it be possible to move away from a view of God that is infused with patriarchal values. The difference between a mere additive approach and a transformative additive approach is the difference between shallow reference or mere lip service to the idea of divine love and taking it seriously enough to consider how exactly it factors into divine nature. In short, a transformative additive approach will ensure that we have a good answer to the question: What difference does love make to divine nature?

Before us, then, we have three related tasks: (1) to carve out a substantial place within divine nature for love (to offset the inadequate attention to the topic), (2) to clarify love’s meaning in this context (with special attention to feminist insight), and (3) to allow love to transform divine nature (i.e., we should move beyond a merely additive approach). In making an explicit place for love and clarifying what is meant by this, efforts towards (1) and (2) should naturally lead to progress towards a transformed divine nature (3).

We are now situated to revisit an earlier point. One way to contextualize Open Theism in relation to this discussion is to see it as a way to emphasize divine love in the divine nature with a special focus on love’s provision for freedom. It is an excellent study in how free will (given a particular reading of love) makes a difference for divine nature. However, it often leaves the fullness of love underexplored. Indeed, if we buy Coakley’s critique of analytic philosophy of religion, such a focus on free will is exactly what we might expect from the field. Though it is a significant move in the right direction, it leaves the reigning values intact. While the work of Open Theism is good and important, I want to recommend that we take the conversation a step further. In this respect, my argument relates to Open Theism in the following ways: (1) my argument is a meta-argument in favour of views like Open Theism that take love as significant in divine nature and (2) my argument includes the recommendation that we extend the work of views like Open Theism by considering love’s fullness, which ought to involve feminist perspectives if we are to move beyond the reigning masculinist vision.

Below, I discuss a potential application for the argument, the topic of divine violence. The work in this section is meant to model how we might respond to the feminist intervention discussed here. I emphasize divine love while attending to love’s nature and consider how this transforms divine nature substantially. In particular, I show how emphasizing love in the divine nature while also attending to feminist insights on love gives us the right outcome of ruling out the possibility of divine violence.

In the following, my theorizing about love and its relationship to the divine nature will be guided by four presuppositions. First, my understanding of love centres (though cannot be reduced to) robust care for the beloved’s well-being.Footnote ⁹ This supposition is most relevant to the discussion of divine violence, which takes love and violence to be incompatible. Secondly, I take it that we have good reason to understand divine love as a perfected form of love, which applies to both humanity and God (with the caveat that God is the ideal exemplar of this form). Thus, while there are key differences in how God and humanity exhibit love, the same basic idea of love’s meaning applies to both. This supposition is also most relevant to the discussion of divine violence, where I talk about ideal love in general terms. Thirdly, I understand love to be an orienting force in the lover, infiltrating and influencing her life and action in many ways. This supposition is most relevant to my discussion of the second option as well as the costs and benefits of the two approaches to divine nature. This is worth mentioning, like the other suppositions, because a reader may be more or less convinced of my conclusions depending on where she lands in her understanding of love in this regard. Finally, I am presuming a view on which God is personal and maybe has a personality.Footnote ¹⁰ This supposition undergirds various aspects of the argument and is especially relevant to my emphasis on love in divine nature and my understanding of how God might reasonably be thought to exemplify love in personal ways.

Greater attention to divine love: love and the other divine traits

Meeting the feminist call for a transformed view of God might look a number of ways and requires more than one initiative. In this section, I will be focusing on the first task discussed above, that of carving out a substantial place for love in divine nature. I do so by considering how love relates to the rest of divine nature, understood in terms of divine traits. Addressing the relationship between divine love and the other divine traits aids our effort to respond to the feminist concerns raised above because, in considering how love relates to the other traits, we are acknowledging that it has a substantial place within divine nature and are making an effort to specify its precise role therein (thereby also moving us towards a transformative addition).

In investigating the role of divine love in divine nature while also keeping in mind that we are trying to give more, and not less, attention to love, there are two clear options available. First, we might take a more conservative – and perhaps more naturally obvious – approach and view love as a trait on equal footing with the other divine traits. To ensure that love transforms divine nature on this option, we would spend due time developing our understanding of divine love and allow this to inform how we envision the other traits and the divine overall. Secondly, we might take a more radical approach and give love greater weight in relation to the other traits by viewing it as a trait of a higher conceptual order and assigning it outsized weight in its influence on the divine nature. Such an approach would also be transformative, and more radically so: envisioning divine nature as primarily characterized by love.

After giving an overview of the basic contours of each option, I consider some costs and benefits of each and conclude with some final thoughts. I conclude that, with proper development, both options have the potential to transform divine nature and so can move us towards addressing the feminist concerns discussed above. Nonetheless, perhaps surprisingly, I also conclude that the second option – whereon love is not merely one trait amongst others in divine nature but rather is an orienting trait – finds good conceptual footing both theoretically and traditionally. If one takes love to be an orienting force in the lover, as I do, this counts in favour of understanding it on a higher-conceptual order in shaping the lover (including God). Moreover, option two coheres well with crucial facets of Christianity that foreground love in divine nature: a central message in Scripture that ‘God is love’Footnote ¹¹ and the doctrines of the Trinity (whereon, in some understandings of the doctrine, God is thought to be internally lovingly related as one in three) and the Incarnation (whereon, in Christ, divine nature is seemingly stripped of many divine traits but divine love remains central and defining).

The mutually conditioning approach

The first approach to divine nature I am considering involves taking what I will call a mutually conditioning approach to the divine traits, on which it is equally true to say, for example, that God loves powerfully and that God powerfully loves. On this view, love is one trait amongst many, and each trait equally conditions the others. One may be motivated to take up this first option because it accomplishes the task of carving out a proper place for love amongst other key traits and, as long as we give it due attention and consider how it conditions the other traits, we accomplish our goal of genuinely transforming divine nature. Moreover, it accomplishes this task in a way that coheres with a common approach to divine nature in analytic philosophy of religion, where divine traits are often discussed as though they are on equal footing. It also accomplishes this task in a way that takes on a less metaphysically complex infrastructure. In the absence of good reasons to adopt a more radical proposal, one might be inclined to take up option one for these reasons.

This discussion raises the question of what it means for traits to ‘condition’ one another. Although it would be valuable to try to define ‘condition’ precisely, for my purposes here, I will say that one trait conditions another in shaping the manifestation of the other and provides a lens through which it can be understood. For example, love as a trait conditions, say, the trait of power by influencing how it manifests and limiting its expression to be compatible with love’s nature. On this view, the conditioning is thought to go both ways for every trait. Thus, every trait shapes and conditions every other trait, and equally so. Though the details of how one might take the second approach of mutual conditioning can be further developed, we can see how it is an option and can begin to imagine how it contrasts with the second option.

To make this proposal more concrete, consider an example. A version of the mutually conditioning approach can be found in Katherin Rogers’s Perfect Being Theology. In this case, the trait relation is discussed in terms of ‘identity’ and is an extension of a classical approach to divine simplicity. With this approach to divine nature, all traits are understood as identical to one another and identical with divine nature. Thus, divine goodness, knowledge, and power are all identical to one another and to divine nature. On a view like this, talk of traits conditioning one another is superficially misleading (making it seem as though God has several traits that interact with one another); however, the language of conditioning makes sense if we think of it as referring to how our concepts of divine goodness, power, and so forth mutually shape one another. The simplicity theorist does not deny that we apply different concepts to God, just that there are a multiplicity of traits underlying these concepts.Footnote ¹² This caveat aside, a closer look at the details of Rogers’s view suggests that my categorization of her view as a mutually conditioning approach is appropriate.

As specified above, I conceptualize ‘conditioning’ in terms of one trait (read: concept) shaping the manifestation of another trait (read: concept) and providing a lens through which to understand it. This seems to be an understanding at play in Rogers’s account. In chapter 3, Rogers explains how her view understands divine traits to relate to one another by identity. Starting with knowledge and power: ‘on the human level there is at the very least a close correlation between power and knowledge, in that in the vast majority of cases being able to do something requires, on some level, knowing how to do it’ (Reference Rogers2000, 31, emphasis in original). She expands on the relationship between divine knowledge and power by saying how this approach solves a paradox raised in the contemporary literature: Can God create a being that has a secret unknown to Godself? If yes, God is not omniscient; if no, God is not omnipotent. Rogers thinks this paradox does not arise on the classical view because ‘God’s omnipotence entails that everything that has any sort of being at all, besides God, is kept in existence from moment to moment by God’s causal power. Since God’s power is His knowledge, whatever is is because it is being thought right now by God’ (Reference Rogers2000, 31). Next, she considers power and goodness, which do conflict in human experience (e.g., dictators), but:

With this wider context for Rogers’s view in mind, consider the following, which I take to count in favour of understanding Rogers’s view as a fitting candidate for the mutually conditioning view, as I have discussed and characterized it here. Rogers takes time to address each concept separately (devoting a whole chapter to each); the only reason to do so is if each concept adds substantive content to divine being and is required to gather a better picture of the whole. That is, one must understand what each contributes uniquely and then, from there, see how it fits into a coherent whole. Or, to put it differently, one must conceptualize the concepts individually and see how, in being identical to each other, they shape each other and comprise a whole. Consider the power–knowledge example she discusses: the reason the paradox of God creating a being with a secret unknown to God cannot arise is because omnipotence and omniscience are both equally present in divine nature and shape the possibilities for each. God cannot create a being with a secret from even Godself because, in being omniscient and omnipotent at the same time, this possibility is ruled out. Moreover, in the case of goodness and power, the mutual conditioning is even more obvious: God would not wield power in a problematic way (as a dictator would) because God is omnibenevolent. Rogers puts this as God’s power and goodness being identical, and it is difficult to see what this could mean except that when God wields power, God does so with goodness in view (in my words: all manifestations of divine power are conditioned by divine goodness).

Overall, and aside from this specific example, the mutually conditioning approach applies in cases where a philosopher or theologian discusses the divine traits as though they were equally influential and, moreover, using the traits as lenses through which to see each other and the whole.Footnote ¹³ Seen in this light, the approach is very common, and perhaps even the standard. Thus, departing from this approach does seem controversial and ‘radical’.Footnote ¹⁴

Strengths and weaknesses of the mutually conditioning approach

A key strength of the mutually conditioning approach has already been suggested. It not only allows us to take divine love seriously and imagine a transformed divine nature but also allows us to do so in a way that is more in keeping with a typical way of conceptualizing the traits. Moreover, this approach accomplishes this feat while being less metaphysically elaborate than the second, where I suggest that love should be treated differently than the other traits. Taking up the second option requires conceptualizing a new ‘super’ trait and saying how this works in relation to the others. No such additional work and complication is required with option one.

However, in its current formulation, option one has two significant drawbacks. First, it is ill-equipped to capture how love is different from other traits in the ways I will discuss more thoroughly below. In short, in viewing love as one trait amongst many, this approach does not seem able to capture the way in which love is an orienting force for thought and action within the lover.

Secondly, the first approach leaves us with fewer resources for adjudicating cases in which traits are in tension with one another. For example, in the case where love conditions power, the influence also exists in the opposite direction, and equally so. The more complete sketch of the two traits’ relationship on this approach would be: love conditions power, and power conditions love. Or: the love trait conditions the power trait by influencing how it manifests and limiting its expression to be compatible with love’s nature; additionally, the power trait conditions the love trait by influencing its manifestation and limiting its expression to be compatible with its nature. This works well for aspects of each trait that cohere with one another. But there seem to be cases that would result in unresolvable tensions. For example, if one is considering divine power and love, it may be permissible for God to use force or coercion in the case of ‘powerful love’ in a way that does not cohere with ‘loving power’. Or consider how complete and unlimited divine knowledge may be in tension with certain goods relevant to loving exchange (i.e., genuine mutuality/exchange and human agency).Footnote ¹⁵ How does one decide what is in keeping with the divine nature in such cases? Where the second option gives us a principled framework for prioritizing love and so navigating such tensions in divine nature, nothing similar is built into the first.Footnote ¹⁶ Thus, we can begin to see the appeal of another way to conceptualize love within divine nature, and these considerations set the table for my proposal of a second option.

The orienting trait approach

On the second approach I will consider, love holds special priority in relation to the other divine traits. This approach places divine love on a higher conceptual level than other traits and affords it more shaping power for divine nature. On this view, all of divine being is conditioned by lovingness and all divine traits are shaped thusly: God knows lovingly, wields power lovingly, and so forth. This does not mean that divine love is not informed by the rest of divine nature. For example, if one affirms divine perfection (as I and a good number of others doFootnote ¹⁷), one could hold this view and still acknowledge that divine love will be expressed in light of divine perfection. Furthermore, it seems that a commitment to a coherent divine nature (a common commitment that seems necessary to me) involves a recognition that all traits shape each other to at least some extent for there to be a coherent being rather than a disjointed amalgamation of traits. So, it is not the case on this view that divine love will be ‘untouched’ by the rest of nature, but rather that in cases of conflict, love will take priority, and the influence of love in relation to the other divine traits is more significant than the influence in the opposite direction. Making precise the amount of influence of love on divine nature seems a difficult and unnecessary task. The basic idea seems clear enough: on this approach, love plays an outsized role in influencing divine nature compared to the other traits.

The motivation for adopting the second option becomes clearer upon consideration of how lovingness seems different from other divine traits, such as omniscience, omnipotence, and even omnibenevolence. These traits involve a quality possessed by God within Godself, having a special access to power, knowledge, and goodness. Though not irrelevant to the relational, these are not relational in the same way that lovingness is. Lovingness involves reference beyond the self, to another. In being (‘referential’/) relational in this way and so taking into consideration the other, lovingness seems to bring about a conditioning effect on the actions of the lover to the beloved. Along this line of reasoning, it seems reasonable to say that, in the context of a relationship in which A loves B, everything A does in relation to B must be informed by, or at least compatible with, this love, or it will count as a failure of love. So, it makes sense to talk of love having an infiltrating effect on the character and actions of the lover in relation to the beloved. No similar corollary seems present in the case of the other divine traits. Though always omniscient, divine omniscience is not immediately relevant and shaping for every interaction between God and humanity in the same way that lovingness is. If this is right, we have some reason to prioritize love in divine nature above the other traits, at least when considering divine being and action in relation to humanity and other beloveds (i.e., creation as a whole), which we most often are. Indeed, it is difficult to imagine exemplifications of divine nature with which we would be most concerned that are wholly irrelevant to the relational realm.

All of this is another way to say something that seems true of love more broadly speaking: it seems that love is an orienting force in the lover in the sense that it is a way of being directed in relation to another, a turning towards, or a ‘living with reference to’. In loving someone or something, the other has captured my attention and resources, and, in this sense, I have turned towards it/her and am living with it/her in mind. ‘Orientation’ also tips a hat to the sense in which love is a comprehensive experience, involving emotional, intellectual, physical, and behavioural components, because one who is oriented to another has made such an adjustment to their her as to utilize the other as a reference point. One makes decisions and goes through life differently, given a reference point, and this impacts one comprehensively. The object of love influences, even transforms, the life, options, desires, and needs of the lover. Understanding love as an orientation also captures the sense in which love is a persistent way of being, one that is a more permanent fixture in one’s personality, rather than a fleeting experience. In imagining this kind of consistent orientation, consider the planets’ orientations to one another, the religious person’s orientation to her religion, and a flower’s orientation to the sun. In each case, one is oriented to the other in a consistent way for one reason or another. In the case of religion and the flower, the analogy with love is even more powerful and accurate because the object of focus is meaningful and essential to the lover’s well-being (as seems to be the case with love).

In the case of the divine nature, divine perfection secures an even more certain outcome, compared to the role of love in human personality. While humans love partially and imperfectly and, moreover, orient themselves in relation to their beloveds in intermittent ways, God sustains a steady and perfect loving orientation to beloveds. In short, in all of divine interaction with humanity, God cannot but be loving. In this sense, love infiltrates and shapes divine nature and behaviour in a special way.Footnote ¹⁸

Overall, option two involves viewing divine love as a kind of orienting trait in relation to the rest of divine nature. More can be said to make the notion of ‘orienting trait’ precise, as well as how it compares in nature with other traits. Space and scope limit how much of this can be worked out here, but I trust that what has been said makes the basic idea – and how this option differs from the previous one – clear enough. I also add the following two points. First, the language of ‘trait’ is a rough way to say that the characteristic shapes the relevant nature in some substantial way. It is not essential to my view that love as an orienting force in divine nature be characterized as a ‘trait’, as long as this basic idea is preserved. If there is a better or more appropriate term, I am happy to defer to this usage. It is more important that at least the following three things hold: (1) love is a key aspect of divine nature, (2) love is understood to take priority in cases of conflict, and (3) the resulting view is one on which divine nature (behaviour, character, and so forth) is shaped substantially by love.

Secondly, at minimum, I am suggesting that love functions in a slightly different way from the other traits. It serves as a kind of guide, lens, or conditioning feature for the rest of what is done, thought, and said. We might wonder what basis we have to think that a trait could be so different compared to other traits. In response to this, I want to reiterate from my discussion of love as an orienting force that the difference is the introduction of an other, which changes everything. It is the orientation to an other (their presence, unique needs, and so forth) and the loving response thereto that accounts for the difference in how love functions as a trait (or strength, or ability, or whatever language one might want to use) in relation to the rest of the lover’s personality.

Strengths and weaknesses of the orienting trait approach

A few benefits of the second option include the following. First, it accounts for the way in which love seems to be different from other divine traits as discussed above. Rather than understanding divine love as falling in the same category as, say, omniscience, taking love as a higher-order orienting trait tracks how love infiltrates divine nature in divine–human interactions in an outsized way.

Secondly, as suggested above, adjudicating amongst tensions in traits becomes less of an issue on this view, since we have a principled way to work out potential conflicts. In each case of potential concern, love will be the stronger shaping trait in the divine nature.

Thirdly, the second approach finds solid footing in the Christian tradition. It allows us to do justice to a key claim in Christian Scripture, that ‘God is love,’Footnote ¹⁹ and coheres well with the doctrines of the Trinity and the Incarnation – each of which, in their own way, can be interpreted as expressing the idea that divine love should be given special priority amongst God’s attributes.

Regarding the scriptural claim that ‘God is love,’ approach two would take seriously and offer substantial metaphysical backing to this idea. Given a view on which love orients the lover, paired with a commitment to divine perfection, love plays the role of orienting force within divine nature in a way more consistent and ideal than the human case. In this way, the account coheres with and enlivens an understanding of God as love because it is a robust way of illustrating that all of who God is and all that God does is informed by love. Note that the mutually conditioning account is only able to give a shallower sense of meaning to the idea (in that it expresses that love is a trait in divine nature of equal shaping influence), but cannot, as stands, account for placing special emphasis on love in divine nature.

Moreover, in understanding love to be a central and shaping aspect of divine nature, the second option seems especially compatible with the doctrine of the Trinity, or the doctrine that God is one and yet also Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The doctrine was formulated and enforced in the late fourth century in response to disagreements about how best to conceptualize God in light of biblical references to God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.Footnote ²⁰ Since then, the doctrine of the Trinity has been conceptualized in various different ways, but the doctrine can be roughly summarized as the idea that God is three in one. Since God is considered three, in some sense, and yet remains united in these three, there is a way in which God is internally related to Godself. Historically, this internal communion has often been conceptualized in terms of love.Footnote ²¹ In this way, it can be said that, beyond being a God of love in divine relation to humanity, God is also, within Godself, love. The second (orienting trait) approach to the divine nature coheres well with any view of the Trinity that understands it as disclosing lovingness as essential to God.

Finally, the second approach also coheres well with the doctrine of the Incarnation.Footnote ²² The core of the Incarnation is the idea that the second person of the Trinity, the Son, became human by assuming a human nature in addition to the Son’s divine nature.Footnote ²³ One might conceptualize the Incarnation, at least in part, as God’s presence to humanity, where the divine nature is stripped of many key defining attributes (i.e., omnipotence and omniscienceFootnote ²⁴) but preserves love. It seems clear that the core of Christ’s message and work on earth was to make divine love present to humanity. In addition to highlighting love as a core principle in his message and preaching,Footnote ²⁵ he also exhibited great acts of love and generosity to individual humans (e.g., forgiving his apostle Peter after he betrayed him three timesFootnote ²⁶) and humanity as such (e.g., his death on the cross and the salvation it representedFootnote ²⁷). Arguably, it says something about the importance of love and its centrality to divine nature that this aspect of the divine nature remained present and central to God when so much else was stripped away. Indeed, we might reasonably infer that this suggests that love is more central and important to the divine nature than other traits. Thus, through the doctrine of Incarnation, we have additional reason to place special emphasis on love in divine nature.

One danger of the second option is that it risks overemphasizing love within divine nature, which has two potential deleterious consequences: (1) resulting in an unrecognizable God and (2) risking reconstructing an unnecessary hierarchy of traits and so recommitting what the feminist critique seeks to avoid. However, if one develops the view with an eye towards these dangers, I do not think these concerns are insurmountable.

Regarding the issue of an unrecognizable God, one might think that a view on which God is loving to an extent beyond the other traits could result in a view of God on which God is no longer God. The concern may be fleshed out in various ways: such a God would be too human, or such a God would fail to be the God of the Bible or tradition, for example. However, if one proceeds from principled reasons for prioritizing love that take into account the Bible and tradition (as I mean to do here) and, moreover, identifies how divine love is also conditioned by the rest of divine nature, the danger of unrecognizability seems less imminent. Even if divine love turns out to have an outsized shaping role in divine nature, this does not mean that its expression will be so untouched by divine nature as to dominate it in a way that renders God unrecognizable (though, on my view, a fairly substantial revision of divine nature is the goal and a good outcome). Recall that one way I secure a sense of balance in my account of divine nature is to stay committed to divine perfection, ensuring that the way in which God loves is fitting to a being like God. Moreover, even on this approach, I do not deny that the other divine traits shape and inform divine love to some extent, given the demands of coherence in the divine nature (see the brief discussion on divine nature and coherence in the first paragraph of the section entitled ‘The orienting trait approach’ above). Thus, divine love is shaped by divine knowledge and power. When God acts in love towards humanity, this love is informed by divine knowledge of humanity, divine power, and so forth.

Regarding the second concern about hierarchy, I do not deny that I am suggesting a hierarchy of traits here. On this option, love does play a more significant shaping role in divine nature compared to other traits and so the view stipulates a kind of hierarchy of traits in the divine nature. However, in response to a view that resists all hierarchy (which is sometimes implicit in feminist literatureFootnote ²⁸), my own considered view is that it is not hierarchy itself that is the problem but its nature, that is, which character is at the top, and how it guides and organizes the whole. I take it that the hierarchy in question (whereon God is essentially loving) is not the kind of hierarchy with which we should be worried and, in fact, perhaps paradoxically, it ultimately suggests a less hierarchical reality and especially because of this hierarchy. If we adopt a view on which God is essentially loving in terms of feminist notions of love (i.e., prioritizing mutuality and care), this will have implications for how we understand divine treatment of humanity, ideal human relations, and more. Perhaps surprising (since it is premised upon hierarchy), a world in which God is essentially loving may be a less dominating and problematically hierarchical world.

A third concern that might be raised against the second option is this: divine love can be properly housed under a trait that is already on offer, which is omnibenevolence, so we need not devise a whole new trait.Footnote ²⁹ Rather, we simply need to clarify that divine love falls under this trait and give an account of what this entails. In one sense, I do not have a problem with this suggestion, if it results in (1) a clear definition and understanding of divine love and (2) makes a difference to divine nature overall. However, and at the same time, I am not convinced that love can be fully accounted for by divine goodness for the same reason that I understand human love and ethics to be distinct. There is a sense in which love is caught up in and accountable to ethics because love involves persons who are entitled to ethical treatment. However, there are aspects of love that seem to diverge from ethics. More specifically, there is a sense in which love has to do with the individual and subjective, whereas ethics centres more on the collective and the universal, though the distinction is not nearly so neat. Furthermore, love might even have rational patterns and demands that require actions that are contrary to ethics (e.g., choosing a loved one over a stranger or even group of strangers precisely because you prefer your loved one). These considerations – paired with the tradition-specific reasons mentioned above that suggest the need to single out and emphasize love in divine nature – leave me unconvinced that it would be best to understand love as subsumed under divine goodness and are why I think it best to conceptualize love as a trait that is separate from, but related to, omnibenevolence.

A fourth concern that one might raise against the second option is that it is not radical enough. If we have reason from 1 John 4 to think there is a kind of identity relationship between the divine nature and love, then perhaps the trait framework is insufficient. Discussing love as an ‘aspect’ of the divine (even if it is a significant aspect) does not adequately prioritize love in the divine nature. Rather, we need a stronger and clearer representation of this identity relationship.Footnote ³⁰ One of the reasons I use the language of ‘orienting’ trait is because I agree that ‘trait’, on its own, is insufficient to capture what is going on in the love–personhood relationship. Still, more work could be done to clarify the sense in which there is an identity relationship between the trait of love and the divine nature. Perhaps, for example, love as orienting trait informs the organization and operation of divine nature so significantly that, in a sense, one could understand love to be identical with divine nature, or, at the very least, serves as a kind of grounding or starting point for divine nature. In this way, I see potential for strengthening the love–divine nature relationship using trait language. I retain the usage (though remain open to better language) for two further reasons. First, I do not want to lose sight of other aspects of divine nature or suggest a reductive view of God. Though it suggests that God is primarily loving, Scripture also depicts God as, for example, powerful, good, and knowledgeable. I want a framework in which other aspects of divine nature can be identified and distinguished while still giving love pride of place, and the orienting trait framework accomplishes this. Secondly, the use of trait language in relation to the divine nature is common in analytic philosophy of religion and so utilizing it makes it easy to locate and put my arguments in conversation with others. In the end, the ‘trait’ model is an imperfect but sufficient way to capture the complexity of divine character.

The two approaches as transformative and in final assessment

It is worth reiterating that both options share the benefit of carving out a significant role for love in divine nature and, moreover, with some further clarification about love’s nature, could result in a robustly transformed divine nature. Thus, both options have the potential to be a viable response to the feminist critique. I leave open the possibility of the first option for those who prefer a more conservative approach to the question of love’s role in divine nature. In my view, adopting a view that gives a substantial role to love in the divine nature is a step in the right direction, even if one is not inclined to take up my other conclusions.

Nonetheless, in final analysis, I prefer the second option, on which love is understood as a higher-order shaping force within divine nature. I take it that God not only loves but does so in a way that informs all divine action and nature. Even though it is the more controversial and metaphysically complex option, there are principled reasons for prioritizing love in this way (as discussed above), and these reasons seem to outweigh the costs of this option.

The orienting trait approach and divine simplicity

At this point in the argument, the reader may have a lurking concern. While I have hinted at this issue above and in the notes,Footnote ³¹ I have not directly engaged the question of how what I am saying relates to divine simplicity.Footnote ³² Much contemporary and historical work on divine nature situates itself in relation to this issue, and its roots can be traced to key figures in the Christian tradition, including Augustine, Anselm, and Aquinas. Clarifying my own argument in relation to this idea is, thus, helpful.

In briefest form, divine simplicity is the idea that God is without physical or metaphysical parts and is identical with whatever can be attributed to the divine nature. Thus, there are no real distinctions or divisions in God, and God is, in this sense, utterly simple and unified in being. In this way, divine nature is in an ontological category of its own and beyond and superior to creaturely concepts and understanding. Thus, divine simplicity is often crucial to how some have elaborated transcendence. Divine simplicity is also a key tenet in classical theism, and unpacking its implications has often yielded an understanding of God on which God is, amongst other things, eternal, unchangeable, and unaffectable.Footnote ³³ There have been many arguments for and against divine simplicity, and there are various ways in which its nature and implications have been understood.Footnote ³⁴ It is outside the scope of this article to rehearse these arguments and views at length, or to develop my own considered view of the issue. However, I will clarify my argument in relation to divine simplicity by way of the following three points.

First, a commitment to divine simplicity comes apart from approach one and two to the divine nature in the sense that the two approaches are conceptual schemas for envisioning divine traits that are compatible with a further commitment to the idea that God is simple or complex. One can hold that divine being is simple and yet undergo the conceptual exercise of explaining what this simple nature is like, including making conceptual distinctions (as long as one hold in mind that this exercise is imperfect in its grasping of the divine nature). Thus, it is not the case that if one adopts the second approach, one is automatically also rejecting divine simplicity. Furthering this point, it seems that maintaining a certain version of simplicity is necessary regardless of the other details of one’s view. It seems right to say that the divine nature is of a different ontological order and exists beyond any attempt to master it. Furthermore, it seems important, for the sake of coherence, that the divine nature has a sense of unity, cohesion, and simplicity; a disjointed divine nature would be problematic.

At the same time, and secondly, there is tension between divine simplicity in its most classical form and both a feminist understanding of divine nature and of love and a view on which God is the personal loving God of the Bible. This is because at least some feminist approaches to divine nature and love seek to move away from individualistic views to prioritize robust relationality (as I have discussed elsewhere in this article), which, further, may require understanding divine nature in ways contrary to a classical commitment to divine simplicity (i.e., prioritizing affectability, changeability, and mutuality). Interestingly, such concerns dovetail with concerns raised by others about the compatibility of divine simplicity with a worshipful and loving God.Footnote ³⁵ For example, it is not clear how the God of classical theism (on which simplicity is prioritized) would hear and respond to our prayers in any substantial way or create and sustain creation in the ways suggested by Scripture. Thus, if one ascribes to further feminist commitments or sees it as incompatible with the Christian God as biblically envisioned, one may be compelled to reject divine simplicity in its most classical form. Whether there is a tenable feminist and/or Christian approach to divine simplicity is an open question, but these tensions are worth highlighting in this context, and do not seem easy to overcome.

Finally, and thirdly, a way to interpret classical theism within the language of my argument is to say that it is a version of the second approach to the traits that I propose here – but one on which simplicity is the controlling trait, not love. If this is right, then the second approach (and my argument overall) is incompatible with classical theistic understanding of divine simplicity. By controlling trait, I mean that the relevant trait is what other traits give to if tension arises between the traits in divine nature. On this approach to the divine nature, simplicity is that which organizes and most substantially shapes the other traits. So, it is simplicity in light of which every other trait is interpreted; thus, God is all-powerful, good, and knowing, but only in ways that are compatible with simplicity. This is what is hinted at when Nicholas Wolterstorff discusses divine simplicity’s ‘framework significance’: ‘If one grants that God is simple, one’s interpretation of all of God’s other attributes will have to be formed in light of that conviction’ (Reference Wolterstorff1991, 531). For the sake of coherence in divine nature, it makes sense that we may need some way to organize the traits, to adjudicate tensions that arise between them, even if this organization does not correspond to a substantive physical or metaphysical division in the divine nature (thus, a different kind of simplicity is maintained). If this is a fair characterization of certain versions of classical theism (where simplicity is the controlling feature), my view, on which love is the orienting trait, is incompatible with these views, and is rather an alternative to them.Footnote ³⁶

An application for the intervention: divine violence

If one carves out a substantial space for love in the divine nature and does so with an eye towards feminist concerns, this will make a difference for how one envisions other issues and divine nature overall. To see how this might go and to get a better sense of my argument’s import, I will apply what has been said so far to the topic of divine violence. Moreover, I discuss how approach two to the divine love–divine nature question fares better at rendering the right kind of result (in my view) on this topic than does option one.

The question of how to define violence is an open one, but for our purposes, we can start with a common sense understanding of violence as ‘action or physical force intending to abuse, hurt, damage, or destroy someone or something’. With this, we have a starting point for understanding violence as connected to harming, damaging, and killing.

The question and the extent to which God engages in violence is relevant to many further topics, including the afterlife and divine punishment. It is also relevant to passages of the Christian Scriptures which raise the possibility of God ordering or inflicting suffering, genocide, and destruction. A few examples include the biblical flood in Genesis 6–9; the apparent genocides of the book of Joshua; the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah in Genesis 19:24; and reference to divine revenge and wrath in Romans 12:19–21. The stakes of how we understand divine character in this context are high, in that Scripture has been used to justify violence as a way to carry out apparent divine commands and emulate divine behaviour. For example, consider the use of Scripture to justify the violence of the Crusades or, in our more recent past, the use of Scripture to justify slavery in the United States. More relevant to our contemporary framework, biblical scholarship continues to leave open the option of a view on which divine violence is compatible with divine goodness and love and academic monographs continue to be published on the topic.Footnote ³⁷ Overall, the possibility of violence in the divine nature continues to be a live option in the literature and is no small admission. On the other hand, we could just as well give an extensive list of passages in Scripture that highlight as central to God such aspects as love, sacrifice, and mercy, as well as many calls to love one’s neighbour, turn the other cheek, and sacrifice selfish desires. Thus, various visions of divine character emerge, some on which God is depicted as engaging in or condoning violence and some on which God is deeply loving – and it is not clear that these are compatible.

To engage in violence is to impose one’s will on another to such an extent as to rob them of well-being and, sometimes, even life. On the other hand, especially on a feminist view, love is often taken to involve such things as self-sacrifice, investment, generosity, and, generally speaking, aiming to improve the health and life of the beloved. Put in these terms, love and violence seem quite contrary to one another. In fact, I would go so far as to say that they are incompatible.

Indeed, in the first chapter of All About Love: New Visions, feminist activist-scholar bell hooks asserts the incompatibility of love and abuse.Footnote ³⁸ According to hooks, love is a combination of ‘various ingredients’, including ‘care, affection, recognition, respect, commitment, and trust, as well as honest and open communication’ (hooks Reference hooks2001, 5). Throughout the work, hooks contends that love involves a humane and ethical treatment of the other. With such a definition of love, love is not compatible with harm and abuse. To quote hooks: ‘When we understand love as the will to nurture our own and another’s spiritual growth, it becomes clear that we cannot claim to love if we are hurtful and abusive. Love and abuse cannot coexist. Abuse and neglect are, by definition, the opposites of nurturance and care’ (hooks Reference hooks2001, 6). Though hooks uses the more specific language of harm and abuse, I see these as instances of violence, and take it that this quote and the surrounding discussion makes it possible to deduce that hooks would likely agree with the claim that violence and love are incompatible, since harm and abuse are specific forms of violence.

Here, it is worth pausing to comment a bit further on the incompatibility of love and violence.Footnote ³⁹ While love and violence are, generally speaking, incompatible, this does not mean that a loving relationship cannot ever involve violence, since it may involve violent or unloving moments and still remain, on the whole, a loving relationship. The extent to which this is possible is difficult to say without looking at a particular case, but the most significant point to make is that a single instance of violence, say, a parent’s moment of weakness, borne from a fit of anger, does not mean that a parent does not love or never has loved their child. At the same time, this does not mean that a parent who continually treats their child violently can claim to love their child well. Overall, it matters if the violence is a pattern or an isolated event. Regardless, it is clear that any violent action (even one out of anger) is not a loving action. And yet, an unloving action might be folded into a loving relationship if reparations and changed behaviour occurs, though, of course, it is up to the harmed individual how they chose to proceed. Moreover, violent acts will likely have a negative impact on trust and the nature of the relationship, regardless of the lover’s intent. The reason this is possible is because relationships are ongoing, living entities that have a tremendous capacity for change and flexibility, and overall patterns are what infuse their character the most. At the same time, there is no permissible number of times one may be violent to another; none is the best (in fact, a relationship without any violence seems superior in love to one that has ever involved violence), and at the same time, loving relationships, being the living entities that they are, have some limited flexibility to take on harms and still remain loving on the whole.

It is also worth noting that this incompatibility appears to stand even in the cases where the violence is indirectly inflicted (e.g., commanded) or inflicted as a means to accomplish a greater end. If it is true that violence involves harming, damaging, and killing, even being violent through someone or something else is to be violent (i.e., we would not think that a person is less guilty of inflicting violence simply because he used a tool rather than his bare hand in the act). Moreover, if it is true that love and violence are contrary to one another, even if the intended good to be accomplished through the violent means is indeed good and furthering of the well-being of the beloved, a violent means remains unloving, is contrary to the good, and suggests a value-confused agent (i.e., it seems contradictory and problematic to teach a child how to gently and lovingly engage their sibling by way of a beating). The relevance of these considerations for the divine nature should be clear. If violence is incompatible with love in the human case, surely then, even more so in the divine case because, in addition to and related to being the most good, God is surely the most ideal lover.

Crucially, with the orienting trait approach, it is guaranteed that one’s notion of love will play the larger shaping role in divine nature and so will result in the conclusion that God would not engage in that which is incompatible with love. With the additional stipulation of attention to feminist contributions to conceptualizing love, that is, emphasis on nurturing the vitality and well-being of the beloved, love and violence – harm, abuse, injury, and so forth – are incompatible. The orienting trait approach paired with any such view ensures that the resulting view of God is one on which God does not engage in violence.

Note that the mutually conditioning approach has fewer built-in resources to draw this conclusion and must posit additional commitments to be able to rule out this possibility. In the case of violence, the most salient competing trait seems to be power. As highlighted above, one who takes the mutually conditioning approach would need to say more about how to resolve potential tensions that could arise when unfettered power conditions love and vice versa. Overall, with the orienting trait approach (paired with a view of love that involves furthering the beloved’s well-being), God cannot, and would not, engage in violence. This result, which renders divine violence unintelligible, comes directly from the additional attention given to divine love as a central shaping force in divine nature.

At bottom, I take it that the standard of love to which we hold God ought to be higher than that to which we hold humanity. If it is right to say that love and violence cannot coexist in human love, it is surely and even more right to say that love and violence cannot coexist in God, especially on a view that takes God to be a perfect exemplar of love. There is much more that can and should be said to flesh out the suggestions I have offered here, but for now, I want to say that giving a proper place to love in the divine nature will make a difference for how we understand the possibility of divine violence and understand the divine nature as a whole.Footnote ⁴⁰

Concluding thoughts

There is a need for further work on the topic of divine love in analytic philosophy of religion, and I see many possible future avenues. Such work includes efforts to more fully define divine love, clarify how it compares and contrasts with human love, specify further how it relates with the divine nature, and consider how greater attention to divine love would impact the rest of one’s theology and worldview (including such issues as the afterlife, divine punishment, the doctrine of God, prayer, and religious and theological ethics more generally). At the very least, I hope the preceding discussion shows the potential fruitfulness of such work and gestures at how it might be transformative for the divine nature and philosophy of religion more broadly.