I´ve been thinking about love a lot lately.
Now I can assure you it has nothing to do with any romantic relationship, real or imaginary, I might find myself in currently. It might have something to do with spending a lazy Friday night a couple of weeks back watching Love Actually. But most likely (and most unexpectedly), my current musings about love stem from the Jesuit, spirituality, reflection, and justice books I´ve been reading this past year.
Despite spending four years at a Jesuit university, three years dreaming of becoming a Jesuit Volunteer after graduation, two spring breaks on a Ignatian-based immersion trip, and one school-year working on a Jesuit book about globalization at the Woodstock Theological Center, I actually knew very little about the Jesuit´s history, their spirituality, or their charism. I was even more woefully ignorant to any other authors or works about spirituality and justice topics. And, while I´m on a role with embarrassing admissions, I should also mention that, prior to coming to Peru, I don´t think I ever willingly opened or read a Bible. And while I love to read - I´ve read the Harry Potter series at least six times and consider Guns, Germs, and Steel to be "light-reading" - I never got around to those other types of books. They seemed so inaccessible, so dense, so academic.
Luckily, our extensive, 20-years-in-the-making library is filled with piles upon piles of well-worn, so-much-better-than-a-Kindle books on every topic imaginable. Over the past year, thanks to a post-graduation-acquired commodity called "leisure time" and the wonderful suggestions of my community mates, I have finally begun to discover the amazing diversity (and accessibility) of books about religion and spirituality. And with the help of our little black book that lists the daily Bible readings, I´ve actually begun to crack open and read the book upon which the religion I profess is based... about time! While I don´t agree or particularly like everything I read (I once shouted, "Fuck you, St. Peter." and slammed the Bible shut after reading 1 Corinthians 14:34-35), I do feel more educated, engaged, and involved with my spiritual and religious growth.
A reoccurring theme in almost all the reading I´ve done, no matter if the author is Jesuit, Buddhist, a brain surgeon, or laity, is: love.
Over and over again I read about love. How to be a more loving person (James Martin, SJ). How to love without being possessive (Thich Nhat Hanh). How the most important thing God wants us to know is that we are loved unconditionally (the brain surgeon). How we should love our neighbor as ourselves (this morning´s Bible passage).
Or this beautiful passage by Pedro Arrupe, SJ that adorns the wall of every bedroom in our house:
Now I can assure you it has nothing to do with any romantic relationship, real or imaginary, I might find myself in currently. It might have something to do with spending a lazy Friday night a couple of weeks back watching Love Actually. But most likely (and most unexpectedly), my current musings about love stem from the Jesuit, spirituality, reflection, and justice books I´ve been reading this past year.
Despite spending four years at a Jesuit university, three years dreaming of becoming a Jesuit Volunteer after graduation, two spring breaks on a Ignatian-based immersion trip, and one school-year working on a Jesuit book about globalization at the Woodstock Theological Center, I actually knew very little about the Jesuit´s history, their spirituality, or their charism. I was even more woefully ignorant to any other authors or works about spirituality and justice topics. And, while I´m on a role with embarrassing admissions, I should also mention that, prior to coming to Peru, I don´t think I ever willingly opened or read a Bible. And while I love to read - I´ve read the Harry Potter series at least six times and consider Guns, Germs, and Steel to be "light-reading" - I never got around to those other types of books. They seemed so inaccessible, so dense, so academic.
Luckily, our extensive, 20-years-in-the-making library is filled with piles upon piles of well-worn, so-much-better-than-a-Kindle books on every topic imaginable. Over the past year, thanks to a post-graduation-acquired commodity called "leisure time" and the wonderful suggestions of my community mates, I have finally begun to discover the amazing diversity (and accessibility) of books about religion and spirituality. And with the help of our little black book that lists the daily Bible readings, I´ve actually begun to crack open and read the book upon which the religion I profess is based... about time! While I don´t agree or particularly like everything I read (I once shouted, "Fuck you, St. Peter." and slammed the Bible shut after reading 1 Corinthians 14:34-35), I do feel more educated, engaged, and involved with my spiritual and religious growth.
A reoccurring theme in almost all the reading I´ve done, no matter if the author is Jesuit, Buddhist, a brain surgeon, or laity, is: love.
Over and over again I read about love. How to be a more loving person (James Martin, SJ). How to love without being possessive (Thich Nhat Hanh). How the most important thing God wants us to know is that we are loved unconditionally (the brain surgeon). How we should love our neighbor as ourselves (this morning´s Bible passage).
Or this beautiful passage by Pedro Arrupe, SJ that adorns the wall of every bedroom in our house:
Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is,
than falling in love in a quite absolute final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination,
will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekend,
what you read, who you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in love,
stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
Or this passage by Michael J. Himes, a diocesan priest and author of the book I´m currently reading:
For God is not the object of love; in a sense, God is not even the subject of love. God is simply the love. What happens when you serve your brother or sister is that you are enacting the meaning of the word "God." One could say that "God" is closer to being a verb that a noun. "God" is what is done, not the one who does it, nor the one to whom it is done. God is the doing, the loving. (Doing the Truth in Love)
Over and over again I am called to love in a more profound, selfless, and pure way. I am challenged and inspired to give more deeply of myself, to hold nothing back, and to expect nothing in return. I am given the tools to love without reservation and without fear. And, while it may surprise the few, unlucky souls who have had the misfortune of being entangled in a relationship with me, I´ve never actually been afraid of love. (Cue confused chuckling directed at the girl who would defend her independence with a samurai sword.)
Ahem. What I´ve been afraid of, is commitment.
When we commit to loving someone, in a romantic or non-romantic way, we almost certainly set ourselves up for inevitable disappointment and pain. For who can commit to someone or something - a cause, a team -without feeling deeply and personally invested in its outcome? The risk of heart-break is just too great; commitment is a terrifying thing.
The tremendous lesson I´ve been slowly learning this past year is how to commit to loving fully, even when it scares me. How to live without expectations for how a situation will turn out. How to allow others to love me in a way authentic to them and their needs, and not in the way I want to be loved. How to invest in relationships that have a looming end date (at least to when I will be physically living in the same location). How to love in a language not my own when I sometimes feel like a fool who can´t express exactly what I´m trying to say.
Every book, even those not written by Catholics, leads me deeper into understanding and living out my faith - a faith that preaches, above all else, the need to love indiscriminately and without hesitation. And every day I´m becoming (I hope!) a more loving and compassionate person. I know, with disquieting certainty, that leaving Peru next year will thoroughly shatter my heart. I´m prepared for it and, yet, I´m loving in spite of it.
Ahem. What I´ve been afraid of, is commitment.
When we commit to loving someone, in a romantic or non-romantic way, we almost certainly set ourselves up for inevitable disappointment and pain. For who can commit to someone or something - a cause, a team -without feeling deeply and personally invested in its outcome? The risk of heart-break is just too great; commitment is a terrifying thing.
The tremendous lesson I´ve been slowly learning this past year is how to commit to loving fully, even when it scares me. How to live without expectations for how a situation will turn out. How to allow others to love me in a way authentic to them and their needs, and not in the way I want to be loved. How to invest in relationships that have a looming end date (at least to when I will be physically living in the same location). How to love in a language not my own when I sometimes feel like a fool who can´t express exactly what I´m trying to say.
Every book, even those not written by Catholics, leads me deeper into understanding and living out my faith - a faith that preaches, above all else, the need to love indiscriminately and without hesitation. And every day I´m becoming (I hope!) a more loving and compassionate person. I know, with disquieting certainty, that leaving Peru next year will thoroughly shatter my heart. I´m prepared for it and, yet, I´m loving in spite of it.
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