We support our Publishers and Content Creators. You can view this story on their website by CLICKING HERE.

We must open our heart to the mystery of love which comes from God, which is given by Him in whom this love is a “theological virtue.” It is this mystery in which grace allows us to share. It is by this mystery that faith lives. We must cling to this mystery if we wish to learn to know a living faith.

Does God exist? This question is infinitely more vital to me than whether this or that man exists; the view which I have of God depends upon the dictates of my heart, my instinct for self-preservation, the interplay of my desires, my resistance and my fear, infinitely more than if it were a question of the existence of men. The confusion of my human existence disturbs my search for God in the world. And if the world itself speaks so ambiguously of Him—what must the power of a will be, permeated by evil to an indeterminate extent, to hide, deform, and betray the image of God in itself! Hence it has been said with reason: “The clean in heart…shall see God.” This is true not merely of the next world, but of here and now.

If I am not at least prepared to love God, I cannot “see” Him. His image will become more and more vague, disappear behind other things, and dissolve into nothingness. It is far otherwise when there is a question of love. “To love,” from the human point of view, is first of all to admit the existence of a being greater than myself, who demands a sacrifice on my part. To love means to be prepared to meet the Most High, not to shun this encounter, but to seek it in order to realize that it is only in the gift that this encounter will involve that I can truly find myself. This attitude awakens in me all that speaks of God, and enables me to see Him.

But, God has revealed Himself in a special and precise way in Jesus Christ; so that “he who sees me, sees the Father.” In Christ “came a light into the world,” this world namely created by the “Word” who is the same as Christ. The Apostle could therefore say that “we saw his glory, the glory of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and of truth.” For God has spoken; His messengers have brought His Word to us to instruct our minds, to direct and fortify our hearts.

So it is, without any shadow of doubt. With regard to the Son it is said: “no one can come to him unless the Father who sent me draw him.” Of the light, it is written that “the darkness grasped it not.” Of Christ we know that men have not received Him, they have hardened their hearts against Him. Finally, it is said that the Word of God cannot be understood unless the heart is touched and the mind opened, yet the devil can certainly tear Him from the heart in spite of the most sustained effort.

In order to be perceived by man, the revelation of God in Christ, the Word of God, demands a lively readiness, grace, and love.

Much could be said regarding Providence, the person of Christ, or the Church. But basically it would always boil down to the same thing: only the presence of love enables me to see an object truly. There must at least be a beginning of love, I must at least be prepared to love in order that I may believe.

But how can I love if I do not “see” Him to whom my love is directed? How can I love before believing? We come now to the crucial question.[*]

We may say immediately that the disposition to love is already in fact love, and that this disposition can exist even before its object becomes visible. It is the status of a seeking love: the search is still indeterminate, but desires to fix upon some face. The quest, the grasping, opens the heart and sets it in motion. In loving, the mind, polarized by the principle of all love, can already direct itself—even before discovering the truth—toward Him who is its source and its object. The heart can be near God, while the mind is still far from Him. This movement of love prepares man for the total gift which is faith. He opens his heart and will to Truth, breaks the bond of his own self-sufficiency, and brings it about that “he who would save his soul, will lose it.”

How does the mother love her child? How does this love come about? He who does not yet exist but will some day be formed in her blood is first of all loved by the mother through her disposition to conceive him. Then she feels in herself something alive, and her love grows in proportion as this body develops distinct from her own. Through this love she becomes aware of it, and believes in the purpose and realization of the existence of this child. And when she has brought him forth into the world and looks at him in her arms, her eyes are then capable of the most profound kind of knowledge, for her heart has now passed through the hard school of patience and love.

God is independent and free, He is essentially “Himself,” but He assumes shape and appearance with regard to me; He presents Himself to me according as I am; He demands to be received into my thought and into my life, to become “my God.” To believe fully, does this not mean that God has become my God? That He “is born in me,” as the masters of the spiritual life say? But this mystery only takes place in love—and the first act of love consists in giving oneself to God in the light of this mystery.

The attitude of love opens the eyes with regard to faith—and, concurrently, the stronger this look becomes, the more love grows and gains in clearness. We could also say equally that faith proceeds from love or love proceeds from faith, for basically the two are the same thing: the manifestation of God living and full of grace, in living man.

Hence we can do nothing better to promote the growth of our faith than to open our heart to love. To be generous enough to desire the existence of a Being who surpasses us, to wish to encounter the Most High in order to give ourselves to Him. To adopt the bold, joyous attitude of one who does not fear for himself, for he knows that the gift of oneself is stronger and more creative than self-containment can be.

But all this remains still very much an earthly matter. We must open our heart to the mystery of love which comes from God, which is given by Him in whom this love is a “theological virtue,” is divine energy by which and in which God reveals Himself to Himself: the Father to the Son, the Son to the Father, and both in the Holy Spirit. It is this mystery in which grace allows us to share. God is “given” to us in grace and in love. It is by this mystery that faith lives. We must cling to this mystery if we wish to learn to know a living faith.

We may escape from the risk of indefiniteness and indifference if we adopt a serious attitude toward love there where it is felt most concretely: namely, with regard to our neighbor. The First Epistle of St. John poses the great question: How can we hope to stand in a proper relationship to the invisible and mysterious God? The answer: By forcing ourselves to be in a proper relationship with the men whom we see. Hence this capacity to see with the “eyes of faith” is intimately connected with our readiness to love the neighbor whom we chance to meet, according to times and circumstances.

[*] St. Augustine discusses this in his Confessions when describing his own profound experiences. For a similar discussion of more recent data, see F. Klein, Une expérience religieuse, Madeleine Sémer, convertie et mystique (Paris, 1923).

This essay  is taken from The Life of Faith by Romano Guardini.

Republished with gracious permission from Cluny Media.

Imaginative Conservative readers may use the code IMCON15 to receive 15% off any order of not-already discounted books from Cluny Media.

The Imaginative Conservative applies the principle of appreciation to the discussion of culture and politics—we approach dialogue with magnanimity rather than with mere civility. Will you help us remain a refreshing oasis in the increasingly contentious arena of modern discourse? Please consider donating now.

The featured image is “The Storm on the Sea of Galilee” (1633) by Rembrandt, and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email