Passion

"It is called the passion narrative, and we are reminded that the word 'passion' is from the Latin, meaning 'to suffer.'  In a time when 'passion' is associated with heavy-breathing romance and the selling of perfumes, we are caught up short by the reminder that to love is to suffer and the suffering is not always sweet.  In real love, the stakes are high; it is risking all." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

This is why we honor lasting love over "falling in love."  Falling in love is easy.  It is discovering all of the interesting things about a person, the things that attract us to them.  It often involves overlooking the other's faults and embracing their newness.  It is this sort of love that people mean when they say that "love is blind."

To have a love that lasts is so much more challenging and rewarding than that.  First of all, it means deciding on a regular basis - day-by-day and month-by-month - to continue to do the sort of things that drew us to one another in the first place.  For some reason, we seem to think that "happily ever after" is a fixed point that we reach - maybe while we're cutting the cake - and that we're going to continue to live there simply by inertia unless someone really screws it up.  But when we stop doing the things that nurtured our initial love, it is going to tend to fade.  And there are plenty of reasons for not doing those things: work, kids, outside interests, other demands on our time.

The thing is, in addition to that, there is the truth that, no matter how loving we may think ourselves or aspire to be, we are still flawed human beings, with different needs and different faults which often come into conflict.  When that happens, someone is going to get hurt, and our self-preservation instincts kick in at that point to protect us from further injury.  And if we aren't actively tending the relationship, if we've stopped doing those things that nourished our love in the first place, there isn't any way to overcome that defensive wall we cannot help but raise.

I imagine that Teri and I have been as guilty of both of these dynamics as anyone.  Somehow - by grace alone, I suppose - we've overcome that to love each other more deeply than I ever imagined we could.  Our initial love seems superficial and juvenile by comparison.  It would be embarrassing to look upon it, except for how it has led us to where we are now.  But it's also true that we're still flawed people, with different needs and faults which still - often! - come into conflict.  And it would be easy for me to write here in my blog that we've reached the point where I know I'm always going to make the choice to bear whatever hurts our relationship may bring me, and to do all I can to cause her as little hurt as possible.

The truth is that, for any of us, the best we can do is recommit ourselves to each other in this moment.  While I cannot imagine choosing otherwise, I also know it's important that I not (in mom's words) write a check with my mouth (fingers) that my ass can't cash.  All I can do, now and when the next conflict arises, is look up at the cross and see there the passion which my Lord willingly  bore for me, and be inspired to willingly bear whatever passion life brings to my bride and me, that we might become the people God dreams for us to be, as individuals and together.

Now, let me not leave the impression that love is mostly crosses, but its joy cannot be full without accepting the burdens, too.  While I know Fr. Neuhaus wasn't expressly writing about marriage, it seems to fit nicely there.