It’s Sunday, and I am at the same place I always end up on this day: church.
I don’t talk to God though; I don’t give him the attention they say he deserves. All around me people whisper, saying things under their breath like ‘Jesus, please forgive me’ or ‘Help me to forgive, so that I may be forgiven.’ Somehow I’m able to sit like a statue, unmoved by the subtle heartbreak that surrounds me. Everyone here just wants to be loved.
So, what is love? How do I understand all the ways in which a person can love? Or, how about all of the ways the congregation claims I am loved: selfless, sacrificial love–but not truly free–surprise!
So, how would I describe love? Maybe as a mystery of the deep, or deeper than deep, an enigma. All the why in the world could not contain it. All the how would never explain it. No man-made gods could ever give or withhold it, but we just can’t accept that. If we could we would all possess it by now.
The sermon goes by in silence, sometimes someone coughs. I nod my head, not out of agreement with anything that the pastor is saying, but because I am starting to fall asleep. When the pastor ends his speech the congregation bows their collective head in prayer. My head lowers out of respect, but my eyes and my heart are focused on the blue carpet. I wriggle my toes just to make sure I have not fallen asleep. The collective gets up to leave, me trailing along behind them.
Another Sunday has come and passed and I am still waiting for an answer. Are my questions so difficult that even the good god above cannot answer them, or is this LOVE truly that abstract?