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PARADOXES OF LOVE
Dear Professor Theophilus:
You've written that "Love is a commitment of the will to the true good of the other person." This has stuck in my mind, but after a lot of thought and application in my daily life I've run into obstacles.
"A commitment of the will to the true good of another person." Does that mean that I commit myself to her good altruistically? If so, how is it possible for two people to love each other, since for her, altruism entails the possibility of getting hurt? Out of love for her, should I refuse to allow her to return my love, because, if she too is selfless, she may get hurt? Is it possible for me to be completely selfless, when she's delivering her own personal selflessness to me? How about love delivered but never returned — can real love be nonreciprocal? And couldn't my love be a hindrance for her? What if it's holding her back, blocking her path? Wouldn't that force me to choose between either continuing to love her, or ceasing to love her for her greater, truer good?
Reply
Slow down and take a breath! Let's take your questions one at a time. I've rephrased several of them; they were good, but your version of the paragraph was an even greater rolling tumble than mine. Forgive me if I've guessed some your meanings wrong.
"If love is a commitment of the will to the true good of another person, does that mean that I commit myself to her altruistically?"
I avoid the term "altruism," because people use it in so many different senses, not all of them sensible. For example, some people reason like this:
- Love isn't real unless it's altruistic.
- But altruism means that it's all for the other person — there's nothing in it for you.
- If it makes you happy to love the other person, then there is something in it for you.
- So it can't be real love if you're happy about it.
Crazy, right? I think so too, and it's not what I meant when I said that love is a commitment of the will to the true good of the other person.
"If so, how is it possible for two people to love each other, since for her, altruism entails the possibility of getting hurt?"
If we get rid of that troublesome word "altruism," what you're asking is this: Is love sacrificial? And if it is, then how could I want anyone to love me back? For her, wouldn't that mean giving up a good?
The answer this time requires rethinking what you understand a person's "good" to be. Apparently you're thinking that people who never have to sacrifice for others are better off than those who have. No, they aren't; they're immeasurably worse off. Ask a new mother whether she considers herself a loser. After all, caring for that poopy little guy is burdensome, isn't it? She can't even know for sure what he'll be like when he grows up, can she? If you talk to her like that, she'll laugh at you. For the sake of love and hope, she's glad to take on such burdens. By sacrificing her selfish interests — surprise! — she discovers her own deepest good.
It's the same in friendship, marriage, and the other natural loves, except that there the sacrifices can be mutual. When these loves are transfigured by the love of God, the sacrifice is greater still, but so is the joy. Christ puts the paradox this way: "He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it." That's not only about the great sacrifice of martyrdom. It's about the small sacrifices of daily life.
"Is it possible for me to be completely selfless, when she's delivering her own personal selflessness to me? Out of love for her, should I refuse to allow her to return my love, because, if she too is selfless, she may get hurt?"
Marital love isn't selfless; it's a mutual and total gift of Self. If you didn't have an ongoing Self, how could you make an ongoing gift of it? This mutual gift is one of the greatest goods known to human beings. God invented marital love. Christ ennobled it by performing his first miracle at a wedding feast. Therefore, no, you aren't being an ingrate to hope that your Lady will love you in return.
On the other hand, the prospect of your love being returned by your Lady ought to fill you with awe. In offering her Self, as you offer yours, she is offering you a being made in the image of God. Before that image, you ought to feel a bit of the fear and trembling that the Centurion felt at the prospect of being visited by Christ Himself. If we spoke more nearly as we ought to speak to those we love, we would say to them, "I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, in His name, and I shall be healed."
"How about love delivered but never returned — can real love be nonreciprocal?"
Why not? Let's rephrase the question. Can I will and seek the true good of someone who doesn't will and seek my true good in return? Of course I can. We Christians believe that we should will and seek the true good of every last one of our neighbors. Needless to say, in a fallen world quite a few of our neighbors will not love us in return. Christ loved us so much that He gave His life for us; but the way that He lost His life was that we killed Him.
Unrequited love is always painful. In the case of erotic love, the kind intended for marriage, the pain arises from the fact that its nature is to seek union with the beloved. The ache of continuing disunion doesn't mean that such love isn't real; it suggests that it is.
"And couldn't my love be a hindrance for her? What if it's holding her back, blocking her path? Wouldn't that force me to choose between either continuing to love her, or ceasing to love her for her greater, truer good?"
Yes, you might be a hindrance to her, if you were unworthy of her. To speak in utter truth, we are all unworthy of each other; what could I ever do to deserve another's total gift of Self? Nothing; that's why it's a gift. At the moment, however, I am not speaking of that universal unworthiness, but of a more specific kind. Suppose, for example, that you were a selfish lout who ruined the lives of everyone around you. In that case you would not yet be capable of the gift of Self. It wouldn't be your love but your inability to love that hindered the girl from her true good. My advice to you in that case would be to try, with the grace of God, to become the sort of person who is capable of love.
Another possibility is that you really do love the girl, but she doesn't love you in return. I mean, of course, that she doesn't love you that way. Whatever joy she experiences in romantic love will be with someone else. In that case, yes, you should back off. You may be tempted to be a pest; don't give in, because that wouldn't be loving at all. You may be tempted to pine away; don't give in to that temptation either, because it is more about self-pity than about love, more about you than about her. If you love a girl who will never love you in return, seek God's grace to sublimate your erotic love for her into the spiritual love of charity. Be grateful to God that you knew her, but be willing to fall in erotic love with someone else.
Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS
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CAN YOU FIND CHRIST IN CHRISTIAN PLACES?
Dear Professor Theophilus:
I have a theory that it is harder to live for Christ in a Christian school than a public or secular school. It's so easy to get caught up in the religious game rather than truly knowing Christ. At my school, only a handful of people own their faith and live in the relationship with God. Is it the same way in secular schools? Or since Christians there have to fight for their faith, do they live more passionately for God? But my real question is "How can I make a difference?" I know we have to live out our faith as an example, but is there more?
Reply
It's true that some Christians are called by God into hostile territory. In a Christian culture that may mean a faraway land; in a fallen-away culture like ours, it may mean here at home. Would following Christ be easier in an even more fallen-away environment, like a public or secular school? How can you serve Christ where you are? Let me offer four things for you to think about.
First, you're still a student; by definition, you're still being formed. Of course we have to stand up for Christ at every age. Even so, a call to go into a hostile environment like a secular school would be much more plausible if you were already finished with your education — for example, if you were a teacher rather than a student. For now, learn what you can where you are.
Second, consider your motives. If we want to go into hostile territory in order to spread the gospel despite the danger, that's love. But if we want to put ourselves in danger just in the thought that a fight would be more spiritual, that isn't love; it's just pride. Surely we need trials and tests, but we can count on God to send the ones we need. We don't have to go looking for them.
Third, suppose you do need a spiritual trial. What's wrong with the one that you're in? Doesn't it already weigh down your spirit that so many students in your Christian school don't seem to be serious about Christ? Aren't you already in a fight on the battlefield of your heart? So not only can you count on God to send you a trial if you need one — He already has! Instead of longing for a different trial, one that seems spiritually more exciting, ask Him to teach you the lessons of the trial that he's given you.
Fourth, be more generous in spirit to the students who seem unserious to you. You can't see inside their hearts. Some of your classmates may just be on a different timetable than you are; quite a few of the heroes of faith obeyed Christ's call only late in life. Jesus Himself has something to say about that; read Matthew 20:1-16. Some of your classmates may also be more advanced in their faith than you think. For example, you speak of living passionately for God, but depth of commitment and intensity of emotion are not the same thing. For all you know, you may even have dismissed some spiritual superiors as unspiritual, just because their relationship with God isn't as emotional as yours.
May Christ bless your longing for Him. May He water it and make it grow! But if you follow these four bits of counsel, I think the question of how to be a more effective witness in your school will take care of itself.
Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS
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WHAT CAN I DO TO CONNECT?
Dear Professor Theophilus:
I'm single, female, and a recent college graduate. My teaching job took me to a new area of the country, far away from friends and family. After nearly a year, I still feel disconnected. Sometimes loneliness threatens to engulf me. My church is large, and all of the people I have met are wonderful, yet every conversation seems so superficial. I've participated in small group fellowships, and I like the women in them, yet they all focus their time on their marriages or families. Though I happily serve in the nursery taking care of 2-year-olds several times a month, that doesn't connect me with adults either. When weekends arrive, I find myself sitting in my apartment, perhaps doing take-home work from my job just to stave off the loneliness. This is hard. I'd welcome any advice you can give.
Reply
Your attitude is so good, and you are already doing so many of the right things. The most obvious thing, however, you aren't yet doing: Find places to serve Christ where other young singles are serving Christ! If the small group fellowship you've tried is dominated by young marrieds, then try another. Taking care of 2-year-olds during worship is wonderful, but there must be other ministries that would put you in contact with adults. How about helping in adult Christian education? How about cooperating with other young adults in outreach to the poor? If your church doesn't have a Young Professionals group, you could even talk with your pastor about starting one. The answer is right under your nose.
Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS
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POTENTIAL SCORCHER. PLEASE ADVISE.
Dear Professor Theophilus:
The guy assigned to me as a dormitory roommate is gay. I've moved to a different dorm room, so that's not my problem. My problem lies in explaining to him why I've moved. I don't want to be a homophobe, and I don't want to alienate him away from Christianity even more — he's an atheist. I have my reasons for moving, plenty of them, like wanting to be comfortable in my home, not wanting friends and family to think I'm gay myself, and wanting to have something in common with my roommate. But is telling him all those reasons the best way to speak to him in love? Should I plan the conversation at all, or should I leave everything to the Holy Spirit?
Reply
You're absolutely right that anything you say should be said in love. But why do you need to explain? Have you done something wrong? Has he asked? Suppose he does ask. Why not simply say, "I'd be uncomfortable living in the same room with you, for the same reason that a woman would be uncomfortable living in the same room with me. It's about sexual modesty." That's not your only reason, but it's an honest and inoffensive reason, and sometimes less is more.
Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS
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