Oτι ο θεος αγαπη εστιν

I’ve been thinking about life and love again… always a fertile topic for me. It seems that I have never really come to grips with the reality of the finitude of relationships. I have always longed for that passionate and eternal love which seems to be, at best, a figment of my imagination, unrequited at that. Ah love; you are such a fickle mistress. Why, my dear, have you not deigned to bless me with your bliss?

My Credo, For Lack of Better Terms

I still believe in love. That is it. There is nothing difficult to grasp or to parse here. I still believe in love. Belief and understanding are such different things. At one time I thought I would love and be loved in return. Now I am finding that love remains elusive. I do not refer only to sexual or romantic love, to ερός or φιλος but to “Love Itself.” I have always been something of a mystic. Even my email handles have the word worked into the titles. The arch-mystic of the NT speaks to my heart’s sensibilities and in these words I find an intimation of the divine:

Ο μη αγαπων ουκ έγνω τον θεον, οτι ο θεος αγαπη εστιν
(1 Jn 4.8)

It is the idea if active and passive voice, the loving and being loved, of giving and receiving that resonates with the deepest chords of my being.

Symbiosis

The idea of a shared life comes to mind. There is an intimate relationship implied in the mythology in Genesis between the divine and the mundane as earth and air dance to create life. It seems to be that the physical act of love is a reenactment of the dance of creation: an empty vessel is filled and a new life is created. Like the rainstorms that pagan mythology sees as the Sky God making love to the Earth Mother, so in this oneness – however fleeting – life is renewed.

I am a casehardened believer in the power of love.

I suppose that all love assumes a triad, to paraphrase St. Augustine: the love, the lover and the beloved. But what of “Love Itself”?

Love Itself

I have moved away from the NT mythology of the incarnate Christ. I find great beauty and power in that myth. The beauty of the divine λογος becoming flesh to establish a remaining-place with us is powerful indeed. It bespeaks a love supreme that reaches beyond the self to find its fulfillment in the other. Selfless to find self, a paradox in an intimate embrace that seeks only the other. I used to believe that I could love that way.

Whether I say God, Christ or Love Itself, I am speaking of the same thing: a love that creates, sustains, and gives hope for the future. I do not know this love, but I do believe in its power to transform even a heart as careworn and broken as mine.

The Penultimate Facing the Eternal

I am finite, made of dust that for a moment dances in the wind. My ability to love is limited, as I grasp and still find myself clinging to myself, afraid to lose myself in the Wholly Other. My lovers and friends have all gone away. All that I have is my soul. It is all that I am, have been, or can be. It is my sum and total, and yet is nothing unless given away to another that can bring it into a place where it is born anew.

And still, I believe in love…