Discussion about the love of some particular religion's god—or the absence of such—generally centers on the problems of evil and suffering. Why would a miracle-working and generous god permit so much evil and suffering in the past and present, including a lot that serves seemingly no purpose? It's an excellent question. And it's inspired many interesting (attempted) justifications.
It's also not the topic of this blog entry. Highly committed religious followers raise other questions when they continually insist through sermon and song that their god is loving, because many would say that they aren't merely repeating a piece of foundational doctrine. They'd say (testify) that their god is always loving in terms of what it does day by day in their very lives. It's active now. Its love continues past the long-ago actions it took according to stories passed down through tradition.
But when they list examples, they fail to sway listeners who don't have the same loyalty to the underlying beliefs. The examples might be minor, coincidental, and possible to explain without invoking supernatural intervention. If this is pointed out to them, they may respond, "Love isn't something that can be slid under a microscope. To believe in love sometimes requires faith and trust. Faith allows you to see a beneficial occurrence for what it really means, which is a loving act of my god. I cannot prove that my god is filled with overflowing love, but why do you say this is strange? I also cannot prove beyond all doubt that the people who are dearest to me feel love in their hearts. Faith is an essential part of the picture."
I'm pretty sure that for them, their response feels well-considered and even somehow natural. However, this is yet another illustration of the way that discarding supernatural beliefs reverses one's outlook. Seen from my current perspective, it's almost nonsensical. It verges on insulting to the people who actually are loving to me. How does it take faith to believe in the love of people who have done so many good things for me, directly and in plain view? When they've been a comforting presence in bad times, not through a cryptic email but through sitting nearby and patiently listening, or through assisting with getting food and performing other tasks? When they've laughed at my jokes and tried to cheer me up when I'm sad? When they've offered the insights they learned from their mistakes, to prevent me from making the same ones? When they gladly spend time with me, not only on big occasions but on a casual whim?
To repeat something I've written before in other contexts, the main point isn't that love is defined by what someone gets out of it. The point is whether or not a concept displays a strong if not undeniable link to the detectable differences it makes in reality. It's not an ambiguous "sign" of something that demands a skewed viewpoint to comprehend it. ("One of my life-long friends has invited me to a cookout. What could it possibly mean?") It might not be visible to the eye but it will certainly be easily traceable, like someone making a payment on the recipient's account. Picking up the pattern is like connecting numbered dots, not like stretching threads between tacks on a big board. It's possible for there to be someone who expertly manipulates various things, sight unseen, in order to eventually produce a loving outcome. This possibility requires a huge mental leap, though.
Unfortunately, there is a flipside to perceptible loving acts. Unloving acts by someone who loves you can be just as perceptible. And the category of unloving includes both cruelty and indifference. Would it be more understandable to say that it does require faith to believe in an individual's love regardless of their cruel and/or indifferent acts? It's true that real people are a mix of characteristics with varying moods and motivations. There's no question unloving acts make it harder to believe in their love. It's also harder to trust that they'll act in a loving manner again in the future.
Nevertheless, I wouldn't stoop to using the word "faith" for it. Because reality is complicated, there are a lot of factors and moving parts. That's why conclusions often aren't perfect in every circumstance. A cause that's very strong can still be subject to competing causes, at least from time to time. The result is that the full set of evidence is likely to be mixed. Statistical analysis comes into play. Genuine strong love might be reflected in committing loving acts "significantly more" than acts of cruelty and indifference. I wouldn't say that it's faith to infer love from a heap of obviously loving acts despite a few unloving acts. It's more like noticing that two fair dice have a sum of 5 more frequently than a sum of 12.
To properly apply this analogy to the influence of an omniscient and omnipotent actor, it shouldn't be necessary to point out that a complete view implies tallying up a mountain of facts about reality's ups and downs. Unlike a person, an omniscient actor has countless more opportunities to act in ways that are loving, indifferent, and cruel. Of course, I'd maintain that the far greatest amount of hypothetical "acts" are in the category of inaction. If there were something that wasn't acting, then indifference would be the explanation that isn't strained. Perhaps it's true, with a focus that's narrowed and aimed, someone can sometimes feel that "someone up there is watching out for me". I'd say that when someone uses a focus that isn't so narrowed and aimed, this feeling is outweighed by the sheer number of times that it isn't applicable. And I'm not referring to the large important evils and sufferings that are usually brought up in the philosophical Problem of evil and suffering; I'm merely referring to an individual's own experience.
One additional defensive analogy between personal love and the love of a god deserves some attention. It goes like: "I think your view of love is superficial. Part of maturity is recognizing that love has well-defined boundaries. Love can actually hamper someone when it doesn't allow them to make decisions, face consequences, and learn. The loved person also can't reach their full potential if love doesn't allow them to face and defeat challenges without immediate help. Boundaries establish that people believe in each other's capabilities and that they're entitled to a realm of independence or non-interference (autonomy). In the same way, my god is obligated to hold back from taking action a lot of the time. Its superior love goes hand in hand with its wise boundaries."
As analogies go, it's not that bad. Yet it seems to me that it doesn't quite work for another reason that's commonly associated with a mature concept of love: open communication. Boundaries that aren't openly communicated are misleading. Nobody knows for sure where they stand and how to correctly interpret each other's acts. If someone distinctly says they're not doing something loving because it would violate boundaries, then I agree that it's a reasonable course to take. If someone simply doesn't act, and they don't express clearly that it's because of boundaries, then I disagree. If it's for the purpose of teaching a memorable "lesson", then specific communication matters so that the right lesson is learned (i.e. not the lesson that the teacher is undependable). A god that honors valid boundaries without communicating the meaning behind its refusals to act is a god that's, once again, suspiciously reminiscent of an indifferent god rather than a loving god with boundaries.
Furthermore, the huge range of possible actions for such a god remains a problem. If the analogy of love that honors boundaries is implicitly parent-like—noting but setting aside the psychoanalytic comparison of gods to parental figures—then this analogy has another failure: parents have sensible limits on how far they will extend the decision to not act. The god that would be compatible with what we experience would be a god of archaic brutality. Would we say that it's a loving balance of help and boundaries when the loved individual's choices are allowed to result in, for instance, losing a leg or a hand? Would we say that it's a loving balance when their choices are allowed to result in diabetes or cancer? Would we say that it's a loving balance when their choices are the right ones but those choices give someone else the opportunity to exploit them? Would we say that any kind of boundary or lesson explains why someone's house is ripped apart by a natural disaster? (Supposed divine judgments on subjectively "sinful regions" notwithstanding...)
Forget about a love that can't even be seen without taking a leap of faith, projecting hidden influences onto commonplace events, and ignoring numerous counterexamples. Give me a love between people, concretely demonstrated and unmistakable, any day. I understand why the most admirable followers of supernatural beliefs comment that their beliefs are communicated most effectively by being their god's hands and feet on Earth. I'm not convinced of its existence, but if I were then "its" most convincing acts of love on an ongoing daily basis would be the acts of people who care.
