Yesterday, I told her: I have let go all the doctrines and explanations and theories and beliefs. In their place I cultivate affection. I have moved from all sorts of theological convictions to a simple practice of love. I imagined I was giving voice to wisdom. Then she said: Love is not enough. Her words stopped me, left me dumbstruck, silent. Her work, her friends, her life asked for justice, for shalom. Today, sitting before a soft, brightening sky, content, listening to birds, thinking of friends, making happy plans, enjoying a cookie and hot coffee, blissful . . . I recall other truths: Parents aching with insuperable longing and dread. Children once precocious and promising, now inexorably unspooling tragedies. People singing Jesus loves me at church and returning home to trauma. Days when dawn does not come. Yesterday at breakfast Her words stopped me. Silenced my words. Upended my easy equanimity. Again this morning, sitting here in the grand cathedral of dawn, even my customary contented affection is silenced as I look through her eyes and see that sometimes love is not enough.
I can still feel appalled and a little angry at one of my professors saying that”...the sacred is always surrounded by danger. Then he pointed his finger at me, on the front row, and said “Wait! The Crusades-“ then the pregnant pause before saying “- the remote control on Super Bowl Sunday “. Religion is sacred to the believer. There are mundane situations that are also sacred.
Your best.
I can still feel appalled and a little angry at one of my professors saying that”...the sacred is always surrounded by danger. Then he pointed his finger at me, on the front row, and said “Wait! The Crusades-“ then the pregnant pause before saying “- the remote control on Super Bowl Sunday “. Religion is sacred to the believer. There are mundane situations that are also sacred.
Love needs a guardian.
Utterly relatable narrative!
Powerful imagery, my friend. Gutsy storytelling.