That inner ache - the human condition

     The inner ache, that sense of missing something, a feeling I think most of us experience at one time or another, takes on many forms.  For some it takes on the form of loneliness, a wanting to connect to others, to feel understood, embraced, loved fully and completely for who we are. Others have described it as a desire to "go home" and have said that this place (this life) is just not home, somehow. They feel restless, lost, out of place. For some it feels like an absence of meaning or purpose.
     Our culture has, for awhile, tried to find the fulfillment of that emptiness or ache in the form of "true love", something described as incredibly rare and by some as only for "one couple in every hundred years". Other practices don't see it as that rare, but still emphasize that this partnering somehow makes us whole. Many faith traditions offer a belief of "the two becoming one". Some honor marriage, therefore, as a sacrament in which God has made one whole out of two halves, a whole that cannot be divided no matter what. I understand the value in that thinking, and maybe for some people that is true. I had a very good marriage. My husband and I were very well suited to each other and rarely disagreed, let alone argued.  We played well, worked well, parented well, partnered well together.  We were compatible in our theology, politics, finances, ideas of parenting, level of cleanliness, foods we liked, activities, books and movies we enjoyed... actually I can't think of much that was incompatible until the end.  For many years, I was happy with him and with the marriage. Still, I never felt that somehow I was "made whole" by the marriage.  And by that, I mean three things.  First, I never felt that I had been only a half a person before. Second, there were still times in the marriage when that ache, loneliness, emptiness, yearning was present for me. And third, when the marriage ended, I did not feel that I became half a person again.  There was a ripping, a tearing, but not into two halves of a whole. Instead it was the ripping and tearing of any close relationship that is injured, damaged, or torn. It was deeper because the relationship was deeper. But it was not because I was torn away from my other half, but because we were tearing another chink into the divisions of the world. I think that, perhaps, the whole idea of "true love" being incredibly rare is an attempt to explain why, despite partnering and marriage, most of us still do feel that ache at times, even in good marriages.  But, at least for most of us, I don't believe we really can be filled by another human being. We aren't "half of a whole, waiting to find the other half," rather we are a puzzle piece in a huge picture, the whole of which is bigger than we can see or imagine.  It includes all of us, and I would say all of creation.  We are pieces of creation, and our separation from that body, into individuals who sometimes seek our own good at the expense of the whole, leads us into this feeling of disconnect, of ache, of separation. Until we are united again in a vision that we truly are one and that what hurts me hurts you, what hurts you hurts me, and that therefore we must work together for the good of everyone - until we have this unity, I think there will be that aching, that yearning, that sense of not "being home" and of not "being whole."  We aren't home, because we are torn from one another and can not rest in a sense of unity.  We aren't whole because we are like a shattered mirror, with many pieces that cut and stab, unaware that until we work together, we will never be a whole.
     I had a wise spiritual director once say that that inner yearning is, ultimately, the desire to connect more fully to the Divine. To me this is a recognition that together we are more than the sum of our parts. Together we have meaning. Together we are a work of art, created by something we cannot begin to comprehend, and yet something that we ache to be a part of.  We yearn to be a note in a beautiful piece of music, not singing it on our own, but being sung as part of a universal chorus.  We ache to be a part of an amazing piece of art, not simply another slash of color painted at random and drifting around, but an irreplaceable part of a creation that has beauty and light and wonder.  We long to be part of a lovely and purposeful dance, not simply a movement on it's own, but a movement with meaning and purpose that works together with all of the other movements to become something we all are part of and that guides and fulfills each part even as it is in itself breathtakingly wondrous.
    Moments of transcendence take us into that larger vision.  But returning is hard as we once again fall into our own unique space and struggle to find the whole once more.
    Still, keep striving.  Keep searching.  Keep reaching out to find your place in that whole.  The ache itself calls us to do that, to be a part of putting the puzzle pieces together and of helping to imagine the picture, the music, the dance, that is bigger than we can see.  It is only together that we can be the creation we were meant to be.  And it is only together that we will finally be "home", and "whole" and connected with that which is bigger than the sum of the parts.  It is only together that we will be with the One who made us and creates us to be beautiful.

Unconditional Love

WARNING - HARRY POTTER SPOILER ALERT!!  If you have not read all 7 books, stop here!

I've been thinking about unconditional love.  We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves.  We are called to love our enemies as ourselves.  We are asked to love with the kind of love God has for us, which means that we love unconditionally, want the best for the other unconditionally, work for the good of the other unconditionally, would be willing, even, to give our lives, unconditionally, for the other.

But are we really capable of doing that for others?  Truthfully, who among us loves like this?  We put conditions on our love for others.  One of the top conditions seems to be that the other loves us back. When the object of our love (any kind of love) rejects us, most of us stop loving the other, or at least try to stop loving the other.  I would take it a step further.  We move from wanting what is best for the other to truly wanting, and in some cases even actively working, for the worst for the other. We've become a people that exercises revenge on a regular basis. We enact revenge and I would say we even celebrate revenge.  Movies, songs, all lift up those who seek revenge as the heroes of our day. Songs with lines such as "I dug my keys into the side of his pretty little souped-up four wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats...maybe next time he'll think before he cheats." This does not reflect any real kind of love at all. This is a "love" that does not care about what is best for the other, it is a "love" that cares about what is best for me and me alone. According to this love, if you hurt me, I should and will hurt you back. There is no conversation here, no forgiveness here, no working through things. There really isn't any letting go either. There is anger, there is revenge, there is no longer a concern at all about the well being of the other, the good of the other, the needs or wholeness of the other. When we are hurt, we want the one who has hurt us to hurt too.  When we are rejected, we want the one who has rejected us to suffer too.  Just to be clear, that isn't love.  It just isn't.  That is about wanting gratification, wanting to be loved, wanting to be cared for.  It is not about loving the other, caring for the other, wanting what is best for the other.

In contrast to this, I've been thinking about the character of Snape from the Harry Potter series.  The woman he is in love with rejected him for another man, a man whom Snape hated and who was truly unkind to Snape.  The woman he loves had a child by this man whom Snape hates.  And yet, Snape still would do anything for this woman, including protecting the child she had with his enemy.  Even after she has died, and there is nothing he can possibly get or gain from loving her, absolutely no chance of any return, he loves her completely.  He still works to protect her child, a child he hates, simply out of his love for her.  He loves her with the kind of unconditional love that does not seek revenge, that does not act out in anger, that does not inflict damage on the one who has broken his heart.  Snape, this unlikable, unattractive man demonstrates and models the kind of pure, unconditional love that we are called to learn, to give, and to seek.

I think about the Harry Potter stories.  And Snape, again, the most unattractive, most unlikable man, is the hero of them for me.  Yes, he is brave.  Yes, he risks and loses everything.  But he is the hero for me not for any of these reasons.  He is deeply human, and even unkind, prejudiced, mean at times. But he, and he alone, loves unconditionally in a way that I don't really see demonstrated very often in real life.

The closest many of us get to this is the way we love our children.  Even when our kids are horrible to us, we love them.  Even when our kids choose things that we deeply disagree with, most of us still love and support them.  But even there, I see and hear about parents rejecting their kids for various reasons.  The numbers of homeless teenagers, pushed out by parents is truly incredible to me.

And beyond our kids?  Can we love others with that same love that says, "I care about you no matter what"?   Can we love the person who called us names?  Can we love the person who rejected us? Can we love the person who actively worked to harm our career, our relationships, our standing in the community?  Can we love, and care about, and serve, and work for the highest good, even for the person who has declared themself our enemy and is actively seeking to destroy us?

There have been a few saints throughout time who have managed to do just this.  From my faith tradition perspective, the example of Jesus saying on the cross, "Forgive them for they know not what they do" is one such example.  But again, it seems it is mostly a very extraordinary person who is able to accomplish this.

We all want to be loved this way.  My guess is that we would all like to know that someone out there loves us for exactly who we are, with our flaws, errors, mistakes, inconsistencies, hypocrisies - all of it, no matter what.

But I have come to believe at ever deeper levels that we create the world we live in.  If we want to be loved like this, we have to start by loving others like this.  If we want to experience unconditional love, we have to be willing to offer it even to those we "hate".  If we want the world to be a place where people care about each other, even when they are hurt, and can see and work towards the good of the other, even when the other hurts us, then we need to offer that kind of love and care to others.

I think I will continue to think of Snape and the kind of love he offered in the midst of his pain. While it did not appear to come back to him during his life time, Harry did get it eventually, as evidenced by the naming of his son after Snape.  Sometimes when we offer this kind of love it won't be rewarded right away or even during our lifetimes.  But we have to start somewhere.  I want to create a world of love for my kids.  That has to start by working harder to love, unconditionally, even the unlovable. And even those who would hate me.

Our influence in this life time

Last week I was walking with a friend across a parking lot on our way to lunch.  She was talking about very serious things that had gone on in her past life, and I'll admit, I was so focused on what she was sharing that I did not notice that we were walking more IN the parking lot lane than to the side of it.  I was listening to her share about some of the pain she had experienced, some of the joys she had experienced and some of the most challenging times of her life.  I was listening to her voice expressing unhealed pain still, as well as resurrection moments and new life and I was praying for her silently as we walked.  I was focusing on being present with her.  And because of that, I was unaware of my surroundings.  I didn't notice, that is, until someone started honking and cursing at us as they passed. Fortunately, I don't think my friend noticed.  But it brought to mind for me a couple things.

First, we never know what others are going through at any one moment.  The person who was honking and cursing at us did not know that we were talking about deep and important things.  She did not know that there was pain and prayers being shared.  Neither did I know what she was going through in her life at that moment that made her be in such a hurry and made her so easily angry with the world around her.  We do not know what others' lives are like, and because of that, it is probably always a good idea to assume the BEST of people and to give them the benefit of the doubt in any situation.  She might normally be a very nice person who was just having a really bad day.  Likewise, I am usually more considerate and aware of where I am and where I walk.  But there was of course no way for her to know that.  Assuming the best about others, no matter how they are behaving in the moment, is therefore helpful.  We just don't know what someone else is experiencing.

Second, as so many people have said in so many different ways, we have a choice about what we contribute to the world with every single interaction.  With every challenge that we face we have a choice to be kind or to be nasty, to be compassionate or to be judgmental, to be grace-filled or to be oppressing, to be loving or to be hateful.  We have to pay attention.  But as Tolstoy pointed out, the most important thing to pay attention to is the one you are with in any one moment and that one's needs at that moment.  Because it is in those one on one moments that we affect the world.  It is through small kindnesses that we change the world for the better.  It is in the small steps of each day that we create a life long journey that either makes the world a little better, or makes the world a little less compassionate.  There is so much hate and anger right now.  It surrounds us in debates on TV and in road-rage and in nasty passing comments.  Every action we do that is grace-filled counters that a little.  Every kind word, every apology and every affirmation, every time we really look at someone and see them, every time we take a moment to hear another person, every smile that we give to a stranger, every time we give someone the benefit of the doubt, and every time we take a risk and assume the best about the other and offer compassion rather than judgment, even when they are misbehaving, we have the opportunity to make the world a better place.

What is the legacy you wish to leave to this world?  Is it kindness and compassion?  Or is it pain and scars?  Is it grace and beauty?  Or is it judgment and condemnation?  Each day gives us a new opportunity to choose.  Each minute gives us a new chance to be the good the world needs so desperately. And each moment gives us the gift of the choice to love rather than to hate, whoever it is that we encounter.