Living Agape: The Role of Charity in God's Plan for Our Divine Transformation

A couple of Lents ago, I stumbled upon an article by the C.S. Lewis Foundation on the topic of Charity and that's when I decided to spend a half hour a day during Lent reflecting on the word Charity. I would search the web for articles, podcasts, sermons, white papers, etc. as food for thought for my reflections. But finding material became more challenging as Lent went on. Then I decided to look for a book on the topic, hoping to find one with a series of reflections on the topic. I searched various sites before coming upon The School of Charity by Evelyn Underhill. Her book is based on a series of meditations she delivered during the 1920s on the principal articles of the Nicene Creed. The lectures were given about 100 years ago at a retreat conducted at Pleshy, a small village in England. Her words spoke to me and helped me to connect so many dots about my Catholic faith, the role of prayer and the acts of Charity.

Underhill had little formal religious education and no theological training. She was an Anglican Catholic who achieved some remarkable accomplishments: she was the first woman to lecture at an Oxford college in theology, the first woman to lecture Anglican clergy, and one of the first women to be included in Church of England commissions. These accomplishments, along with her work as a theological editor and her role as a spiritual director and retreat leader, made Evelyn Underhill a prominent figure in her day. Her lectures and writings influenced a number of prominent people, including CS Lewis. Underhill and Lewis started corresponding in 1938 until her death a few years later. Underhill encouraged Lewis to blend in mysticism as a universal call to God which resonated with Lewis’s imaginative depictions of spiritual longing. Some speculate that in this way Underhill may have influenced such works as Narnia and Planet Trilogy. David C. Downing’s Into the Region of Awe highlights Underhill as one of three key figures (with George MacDonald and William R. Inge) shaping Lewis’s mystical vision.

Part I: Charity is the Expression of Love

As I was doing my reflections, I began to write notes. In my notes, I had written the following statement:

God is love; His only action is Charity.

I was certain either Underhill or Lewis had written those words, but when I went back looking for the source I couldn’t find it. I checked others sources and Google searched it, but could not find the source for that note. Perhaps I mistyped it or maybe the Holy Spirit inspired it. I don’t know. But that statement was a revelation to me. If Love is the will to do good things towards others; Charity is the act of doing good things for others. There is an old adage that the path to Hell is paved with good intentions. True, because love without charity is worthless. No wonder St. James asks “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but does not have works? Can such faith save him?…In the same way faith, if it does not have works, is dead by itself.” The words Charity and Love are inextricably intertwined.

C.S. Lewis wrote: Charity is the result of a life lived fully surrendered to Christ. Reflect, today, upon the ultimate goal of getting to Heaven and look at the fact that daily acts of charity are the road to this goal. The relationship between love and charity are major themes in Underhill’s book, but she adds layers of depth on the topic charity:

God is love or rather charity; generous outflowing, self-giving love, Agape. When all the qualities which human thought attributes to Reality are set aside, this remains: Charity is the colour of the divine personality, the spectrum of holiness.

In that Shrine we are shown truth pouring through the windows of holiness; and [we] are moulded for the true purpose of our creation, a life of charity, united to the self-giving generosity which is God.

God in His essential Being is Charity; God so loved us that He gave; therefore to dwell in Charity means giving in our turn, a movement of conditioned generosity which shall be the expression of love.

I believe in the possibility of my nature being so transformed by the creative action of the Spirit, that It may become part of the Mystical Body through that which revelation goes on; for the Divine Charity is still pressing into life through our narrow souls, seeking to bring in the Kingdom of God.

In our souls too, the Divine Charity must be incarnate; take visible, tangible form. We are not really Christian until this has been done.

In his book, Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis points out that it is easy to love the likeable. However, the virtue of “charity” comes by choosing to act lovingly toward the unlikeable. Lewis writes, 'Charity' now means simply what used to be called 'alms'—that is, giving to the poor. Originally it had a much wider meaning . . . Charity means “Love, in the Christian sense. But love, in the Christian sense, does not mean an emotion. It is a state not of the feelings but of the will; that state of the will which we have naturally about ourselves, and must learn to have about other people." Charity is more than kindness or doing nice things. It is more than giving alms. Underhill defines charity as the expression of love. How beautiful! She notes that through charity we are transformed and become part of the Mystical Body. Through a life of charity, we become united with God.

Part II: Charity is the work of a Carpenters’ Shop, Not a Confectioners’

Many people like to read the Sermon on the Mount and sing the Prayer of St. Francis, but few actually live it. It is hard. And the cost of discipleship is real. It means lowering ourselves to serve. Meeting people where they are – in the streets, hospitals, and soup kitchens - and spreading God’s spirit offering dignity and respect to each person we help.   

Christ was trained in a carpenter's shop, and yet we persist in preferring a confectioner's shop. But the energy of rescue, the outpouring of sacrificial love, which the supernatural life demands, is not to be got from a diet of devotional meringues and eclairs.

Here is the point of insertion in the world of men, in action, example and demand. Every Christian is required to be an instrument of God's rescuing action; and His power will not be exerted through us except at considerable cost to ourselves. Muzzy, safety-first Christianity is useless here. We must accept the world's worst if we are to give it our best.

The spiritual life is a stern choice. It is not a consoling retreat from the difficulties of existence; but an invitation to enter fully into that difficult existence and there apply the Charity of God and bear the cost.

There is nothing high minded about Christian holiness. It is most at home in the slum, the street, the hospital ward: and the mysteries through which its gifts are distributed are themselves chosen from amongst the most homely realities of life.

He was crucified, dead and buried - rose again and ascended. With this double statement, the Creed, the rule of prayer, reaches its climax, and shows us in a sentence the deepest meaning in our life: declaring in plain language that unlimited and self-offering is the only path from man to God.

Only those who are generous up to the limits of self-loss can hope to become channels of the generosity of God. 

Underhill emphasizes profound and challenging concepts like “unlimited self-offering,” “generous to the limits of self-loss,” and “generous outflowing, self-giving love, Agape.” These ideals set an incredibly high standard—one that can feel overwhelming. Living a life of charity is not just a simple calling; it is all-consuming. We are beckoned to serve others: to care for the sick, to tend to the poor, to reach out to the marginalized. Yet, this path is not one of reward or recognition. Instead of praise, we may find ourselves facing the disapproval or even the opposition of society.

I often find myself haunted by the weight of my own shortcomings. My nights are filled with thoughts of the ways I fell short that day: I meant to call my aunt… but I didn’t. I wanted to send a Christmas card… but never got around to it. I planned to attend the service… but didn’t follow through. She called me for help… but I was too busy to stop. I saw someone struggling… but I was late for work and kept walking. I heard a cry for help… but fear held me back. These moments, seemingly small and fleeting, weigh heavily on my conscience. They feel like the truest form of sin—not the grand, dramatic transgressions, but the quiet failures to be present, to care, to act. What is viivid in the night is often silent in the confessional.

Underhill reminds us of something profound: the Kingdom of God enters this world through us. Our actions—our choices—are the vessels through which divine love and redemption flow into the world. But if this is true, then the opposite is also true. If the Kingdom of God can enter through us, so too can Hell. Every missed opportunity to love, to serve, to give—all of it has consequences. It’s a sobering and humbling realization. The weight of charity and service is heavy, but it is also the path we are called to walk.

Part III: A Life of Charity is a Life of Sacrifice and Suffering for His Good

On Ash Wednesday in 2022, Pope Francis emphasized that our pursuit of salvation is not about ascending to glory, but rather about descending into love. This idea resonated with me while reading Underhill’s book. The means by which God transforms us from mere mortals to divine beings in heaven is through suffering and death. It calls for a willingness to sacrifice ourselves in service to others. In his death, Jesus demonstrated that the path from humanity to divinity involves enduring suffering. All the apostles, with the exception of John, faced martyrdom—they were beheaded, crucified, stoned, and even sawed in half. As for John, while they attempted to take his life, they ultimately failed and chose instead to exile him to an island.

As Underhill describes it:

Suffering has its place within the Divine purpose and is transfigured by the touch of God. A desperate crisis, the demand for total self-giving, a willingness to risk everything, an apparent failure, darkness and death -- all these are likely to be incidents of the spiritual course.

Profound submission to the Will of God declared through circumstances: being what we are, and the world what it is, that means sooner or later, Gethsemane and the darkness of the Cross.

Love, after all, makes the whole difference between an execution and martyrdom. Pain, or at least the willingness to risk pain, alone gives dignity to human love and is the price of its creative power: without this, it is mere emotional enjoyment.

Interplay of the pure truth and that warm compassion, it becomes filled with the rescuing and redeeming Power, which transcends difficulties and does not notice dangers; and His power is made perfect in the sacrifice - the Eucharist, Gethsemane, and the Cross. Thus the path which never departs the human landscape we are led out and up beyond the human landscape, to a Divine revelation that yet is deeply human, and a human revelation that is completely Divine.

Every decision, therefore, that the Christian takes in life will be controlled by the fact that it must be compatible with following Him. This means no Christian life will avoid Calvary; though we may come to it by many different ways.

I remember growing up my mother often used to say “offer it up for the suffering souls in purgatory.” The "it" was my suffering – disappointment, inconvenience, annoyance, illness, or whatever, no matter how trivial or great. God can transcend all suffering for good. As I read Underhill and slowly grasped what she is saying, I realized this practice of offering up our suffering is consistent with God’s plan to transform us.

Purposeful suffering is what we call sacrifice. We give up part of ourselves to God so he can transform us. When we do things that are inconvenient, hard, unpleasant or even risky to our well being – that’s Charity performing the action of Agape love. They help us to be ready to respond when those moments of crisis - an apparent failure, darkness or death - requiring to total self giving and a willingness to risk everything arise.

The role of suffering is consistent with our apostolic teachings, especially by the early Christians. It is also better understood by Christians living in many parts of the world where they are under constant threat and attack, but display and practice their Faith, regardless of the potential consequences. Tertullion, one of the early Fathers of the Second Century Church, noted: The blood of martyrs is the seed of Christians. While through death we are transformed, the discipline of putting our faith, love and charity above the suffering is what makes saints - saints.

Part IV: Charity Feeds on the Body of Christ

Charity is deeply nourished by the Church's teachings, sacraments, Eucharist, prayer, and evangelization. As Underhill emphasizes, the Church plays a crucial role in guiding us toward a life filled with charity, rooted in Christ's love and sacrifice. Evangelization is not about proclaiming Bible verses on street corners but about actively sharing our faith through acts of charity with those we encounter. This outward expression of faith flows from our desire to uncover the richness and beauty of Christian truths:

We sometimes forget that, with hardly an exception, the greatest masters of the spiritual life speak to us within the Church; accept it teachings and are supported by its practices. They tell us, because of their own vivid sense of God, what full life within that Church really means and can be; they do not invite us to contract out of it. Their chief gift to us, their average brothers and sisters, does not consist in the production of striking spiritual novelties, but rather in the penetrating light which they cast on familiar truths of religion; showing us that these truths are many levelled, and will only yield up their unspeakable richness and beauty to those who take the trouble to dig below the surface, and seek the treasure which is still hidden in the field.

That life indwells the world and the world knows it not; largely because those to whom it is given fail to disclose it. Christians, that "nation" as the New Testament calls them, who exist only to be wide-open channels of the inpouring Spirit of Charity, block its passage by their interior hardness, their spiritual selfishness, apathy, love of comfort, their petty and sterile religious outlook.

In the United States, many people are opting out of the Catholic Church. We are quick to blame others: the priest scandal, Vatican II, liberalism, etc. But Underhill would blame us - those who are in the Body of Christ for not sharing it enough. Many Catholics fail to reveal the richness of our faith with the world. As Underhill critiques, we often block the Spirit of Charity through our spiritual selfishness, apathy, and narrow perspectives. Christ calls us to evangelization—not to hide our light under a bushel but to let it shine. Evangelization itself is an act of charity, demanding effort and courage.

The word "Catholic" does not simply mean "universal." It means "according to the whole." To live fully as Catholics, we must be in sync with the Whole, the Body of Christ, which is the Church. Catholics believe that Communion embodies receiving the Eucharist, the glorified Body of Christ, which binds believers together as one body in Him. Using an analogy to illustrate this connection: the physical churches and cathedrals where we house the Eucharist are akin to Jesus' earthly body, while the communion of saints—living, dead, and eternal—forms the glorified Body of Christ. This unity is emphasized in Jesus' command to consume His glorified body "in memory of Him," enabling us to participate in the incarnate Word through the Church.

The whole Body is the Bride of Christ: a Body, as St. Paul says, having many different members, and some very odd shape, some of the very lowly kind. And it is in this Body, at once mysterious and homely, that the individual Christian must consent to sink his life, in order that he may find true life.

Here that rich New Testament word "Communion" bears a double reference. For on one hand it means that we believe in the whole fellowship, the society of saints, known and unknown, living and dead, their reality and power, their aliveness, their authority, their witness to the facts of the spiritual life, and on the other hand that we believe there is a true communion, a genuine sharing between all members of the one Body.

Our prayers when offered in communion with the Church they have great power. That’s why we ask a Saint or Mary or all the Saints to join us in intercession. When we pray in communion with the Church, our prayers gain weight and authority, carried by the collective intercession of saints and believers.

When we consider our situation like this, we realize the very best we are likely to achieve in the world of prayer will be a very small part in a mighty symphony; not a peculiarly interesting part of a duet. When our devotional life seems to us to have become a duet, we should listen more carefully. Then we will hear a great music, within which that little melody of ours can find its place.

[The Liturgy] It has a meaning, a splendour and a claim on us, far transcending those private prayers to which we are apt to give priority. The whole poetry of man's relation to the unseen Love is hidden in the Liturgy: with its roots in history, its eyes set upon Eternity, its mingled outbursts of praise and supplication, penitence and delight, it encloses us and carries forward the devotion of the individual soul, lost in that mighty melody.

The inner life consists in an enduring of this deep transforming process. The chief object of prayer is to help it on: not merely for our own soul's sake, but for a reason which lifts the devotional life above all pettiness -- because this is the part of the great creative action which is lifting humanity to the supernatural order, turning the flour and water of our common nature into the living Bread of Eternal Life.

It means that being members of the Body of Christ is to be the ruling fact of us. Crossing over to the divine side with all our powers, we must take a humble place in the ranks: become part of the reasonable, holy and living sacrifice. It means work and prayer, suffering and self-conquest, we are never to forget that we do not act alone or for ourselves. We act with and for the whole body. The prayer of the individual Christian is always the prayer of the whole Church; and therefore its infinite scope.

In short without the Church, the Liturgy, the sacraments, the Eucharist and prayer we will not be able to live a life of Charity. If love is represented by the heart, then charity is represented by the heartbeat pumping love throughout the Whole Body of Christ. While Underhill summarizes her book in one, simple final sentence, the depth of its meaning would be lost without everything that came before it:

The Body of Christ exists to work for the world's transformation; to bring Eternal Life into time, by the faithful and arduous incarnation of its faith and love in concrete acts.