Dear Yinhfei,
I guess you're hoping for lots of comments in your search for a
definition of love, for which of us would be so bold as to post "The
Answer" to such a question? Certainly not I, for I'm still searching
for that answer myself. So I'll add my comments to the rest in the
form of an essay I wrote nearly twenty years ago on this subject. I
might say it a little differently now, but I still believe in the
basic definition of love I wrote about then, and offer it here as a
viewpoint you might like to consider. Besides, I already have it in
my computer and it's fairly easy just to copy and paste! :-) Take
care and good luck in your quest for an answer ....
Byrd
Exercise With Love
There must be so many definitions of love by this time that their
number is past all counting. Some of those definitions are downright
sappy. You know the type -- love is a soft warm puppy, love is a
cuddly kitten, love is the smell of Grandma's cookies -- there must be
a million more like these. Other definitions are simply vague, like
love is a state of mind, or love makes the world go around. And how
about the modern classic -- love means never having to say you're
sorry? Of course, there is always the dictionary if you need
definitions, but the ones in there aren’t much better. According to
Webster, love can be a noun or a verb. If a noun, it may be any one
of a variety of emotions, ranging from pleasure and liking, to sexual
desire or passion, to affection, reverence, or awe. If a verb, then
"to love" means "to have" one or more of these emotions or feelings.
The trouble with all these definitions is that they center, either
directly or evocatively, entirely around feelings, and they are all
completely passive. But love is not something you feel, nor is it
something you have, nor even is it something which you refrain from
doing. It is not an emotion; it is not a possession; it is an action.
Love cannot be passive because, quite simply, love is something you
do.
This is not to say, of course, that love has no relationship to the
emotions. It does, certainly, but maybe not always in the way we are
accustomed to think. Most of us tend to believe that our actions are
the results of our emotions, but even when that is true, it is so only
indirectly. In fact, our actions have a more direct cause, a cause of
which most of us are at least dimly aware, but one which we often tend
to forget or ignore. That cause is our will. Now our will may be
weak or strong. It may follow the direction of our feelings, or it
may go against them. Using our will may be easy or hard; it may be
conscious or subconscious. But it is our will, nevertheless, not our
feelings, which controls everything we do.
Picture for a moment a mother with her newborn infant, the classic
portrait of love. As she holds in her arms the new life to which she
has just given birth, gently touches the pink curling fingers, counts
the tiny toes, brushes her lips across the soft down on the round
little head, she is filled with a great rush of intense pleasure,
tenderness and devotion toward this helpless little scrap of humanity.
Those are exactly the emotions that the doctors and behavioral
scientists hope to create with their emphasis on the process of
“bonding.” But are those feelings love?
Consider what loving that infant really means. Sooner or later the
child will cry. It will need to be fed and diapered and bathed. It
will need to be held and talked to , comforted and amused. The
mother’s feelings, however strong, will not be enough to accomplish
all those things unless, at some point, she responds to those feelings
with action. She might sit forever, experiencing wonderful emotions
while holding a screaming, starving, soiled child, but those emotions
are not love. Happily, in most cases, the mother’s decision to
respond to her emotions by caring for the child is any easy one. It
is easy because it is in accordance with her feelings. But easy or
not, instinctive or deliberate, the decision to act comes through the
operation of the mother’s will in response to her feelings, and not
from the feelings themselves. Love is not the feeling; it is the act.
Imagine that same mother a few weeks later, when the hormone-induced
euphoria of childbirth has passed. As she stands bleary-eyed over the
howling occupant of a vibrating crib at three o’clock in the morning,
her feelings are likely to be more of a mixture of exasperation,
frustration, and resentment than tender, devoted affection. The
decision isn’t quite so easy then. If the mother chose to act in
accordance with her feelings, she’d probably go back to bed with a
couple of pillows clamped firmly over her ears. Fortunately, however,
her will is subject to her conscious control. She has the ability to
choose to care for her child in direct opposition to her emotions of
the moment. Is her child, dry now and quiet, secure in his mother’s
arms, feeding contentedly, any less loved than when her choice was
easy? I think not. In fact, it seems to me that the degree of love
may increase proportionately to the amount of effort it requires, for
again, love is not the feeling; it is the act.
Nor does this apply only to mothers and children. Remember the story
about the Good Samaritan? Well I had a friend once, by the name of
Karen, who reminded me a lot of him. She was a minister’s wife who
took her role very seriously, and usually enjoyed it as well. But
there was a time I recall when she was not enjoying life much at all.
It seemed her husband the minister was counseling a young man who had
a great many problems, among which was the fact that he was homeless
with nowhere to stay. The obvious solution was for him to stay with
Karen and her husband, and so this troubled young man became their
houseguest for a number of weeks. Problem was that Karen couldn’t
stand him. “He’s so rude,” she’d say. “He’s loud, he curses and
swears, he interrupts our private conversations, interferes with our
lives, watches whatever he wants on tv, never mind what we’d like to
see, he expects me to wait on him hand and foot and never even says
thank-you. He doesn’t do anything to help and won’t even dry the
dishes. I’ve prayed and prayed to be able to love him, but I just
can’t.” Having delivered this litany of complaints, poor Karen was
immediately consumed with guilt. You see, she also took very
seriously God’s commandment to love her neighbor, and felt she had
miserably failed in her duty because of her feelings toward this man.
So I asked her if she had said any of those things to him, or been
rude to him in return, or asked him to leave. She was shocked. “Of
course not!” she said. Turned out she had, in fact, treated the rude
young man with the utmost tact and consideration, prayed for the
solution to his problems, and helped him in every way she could think
of. But Karen thought she was being hypocritical, and therefore
unloving, because her feelings were in such opposition to her actions.
Did Karen love that difficult young man – or not? I am convinced she
did. Furthermore, I think that if God was watching her struggles, he
would have agreed and been pleased. Love doesn’t consist of the
miraculous possession of the “right” emotions. It is simply the act
of being loving, whatever one’s feelings of the moment might be.
It seems to me that this definition of love is neither sappy nor
vague, confusing nor variable, because it doesn’t depend on
unpredictable emotions and it holds true in every circumstance. No,
love is not a soft warm puppy. But it is holding down that squirming
bundle of fur at the vet’s so the puppy can get its shots. It’s
paying for those shots as well. Love is tying up the Christmas tree
instead of killing the kitten, and buying a new pair of stockings
instead of a new kitten when little claws mistake your legs for a
scratching post. It’s baking the cookies yourself, even if you hate
baking. Better yet, it’s letting those eager little hands help,
though you know they will get more cookie dough in the mouth or on the
floor than in the cookie pan. Love makes a commitment in response to
deep affection, and then continues to act committed when the affection
seems to disappear. It cares for the child, works at the marriage,
and is an active friend. Love is treating people in a loving way, not
only when that is easy, but also when you have to grit your teeth to
do it. So, what if you are disabled, blind and deaf? You can still
pray.
Webster had it almost right. Love is indeed a verb. But it is,
always and forever, a verb of action. Love is not what you feel.
Love is what you do. |
