Finding the ability to show love even when it is hard, Faith
God calls us to love beauty and ugliness in our world.
I thought I knew him, the burly man sitting on the bench at the bus stop, so I made a quick turn into the convenience store behind him. My car was recently stocked with amazing hand-knit blankets tucked into homemade carry totes — perfect for those living on the streets — light weight and warm. A faith-filled friend said, she prays as she knits for the person who will be receiving the blanket. Double blessing!
I hurried to my suspected friend with a carry tote in hand and walked around to greet him. The shock of seeing him faceto-face nearly did me i — it was not the man I thought I knew, but a stranger with a frightful appearance. He had long hair and a long beard, both grisly and gray. His head, seemingly too large even for his large body, tilted to one side. One good eye scanned my presence. The other eye drew me in and repulsed me.
It was recessed and red, wandering and wasted, surrounded by a mass of pus-filled mounds. His enormous nose spread from cheek to cheek, surely capable of sniffing out the smallest of scents. And his gaping mouth contained only one tooth — a top right incisor which was askew and menacing.
As I handed him the blanket, he gave me an other-worldly grin and said, “Thank you for your kindness.” I didn’t ask him his name or give him mine as I usually do. I didn’t offer my hand or hug him as is my custom. I was simply overwhelmed by ugliness.
Wanting to do some good on this wintry day didn’t happen — just the opposite did. I found myself looking at this hideous homeless man on a bus stop bench and experiencing the phrase, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I saw no beauty and hated my reaction more than his ugliness.
Sometime later, a sliver of empathy... redemption really, emerged as I realize that this man was somebody’s baby once, treasured perhaps, and not thought unbeautiful, unsightly or unlovable.
The poem “Falling in Love” is attributed to Jesuit priest, Father Pedro Arrupe to celebrate Valentine’s Day.
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 weekends,
what you read, whom 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.
When I first read this poem, I envisioned it an eloquent ode to a lover, or a child, or a close-knit family. After several readings and time to digest the words between readings, I wondered, “Did I miss the real meaning? Was Father Aruppe encouraging us to go beyond what at first glance seemed a simple valentine — was he urging us to think broadly, deeply, boldly?” Is saying “Yes” to God, really falling in love, which will “affect everything?”
And in so doing, will our lives be vastly different? Does loving our neighbor as is preached by many faiths, actually mean falling in love with each other, which will “decide everything?” Will petty squabbles with our families, colleagues, neighbors and merchants abate if we fall in love with each other? Will terrorism and wars cease?
Love is essential in life yet its meaning is difficult to decipher.
The ancient Greeks described various kinds of love, agape, unconditional selfless love as members of the family of man, being the hardest to digest and embody. Is this the ultimate test of our humanity — living a life for others, with others, loving each other with abandon — the beautiful ones who take our breath away just by looking at them, and the ugly ones who do the same? Can we do it — say “I love you” and mean it? To everyone?
As for me, I need to find that burly gentleman who said, “Thank you for your kindness,” and shake his hand, surprise him with a hug, and say, “I love you.”