Love
as adventure
Evolution a key component of all ‘holy unions’
By Bishop Paul V. Marshall
June, 2005
From a meeting with Canadian bishops last month, I concluded an
email to my wife, “I love you although/because that is an adventure.”
Diana is an understanding sort. She knew I meant that in a good
way. But here I explain.
We seek a beloved who provides a secure base from which to explore
life, someone with whom to share ecstasy, and an ally in the face
of challenges. This is gift not everyone receives.
The adventure begins with remembering that the beloved is not an “object,” not
even an “object of affection.” They remain a person with
will, agenda, and possibilities. To engage another truly and devotedly
is not about freeze-drying a desirable set of characteristics with
those deadly words, “Don’t go changing.”
To love involves respecting what one contemplates, admires, and
cherishes in the other’s person and development. The very first
Book of Common Prayer (1549) had it right: “With my body I
thee worship.” That sentiment is profoundly intimate; it also
sets a boundary. We cannot truly worship and possess. Only idols
do not change.
To love someone includes fostering their growth and applauding their
increasing knowledge of who and what they are. Love includes binding
their wounds as they struggle to work out their salvation. While
this is indeed adventure, sometimes challenging, it is also joy to
see the beloved becoming someone more complete, more beautiful to
behold.
Patiently making room for God’s Spirit on a daily non-spectacular
basis is one of the disciplines of loving until death do us part.
It is not often comfortable but it is often rewarding. I can only
hope that my own evolution has brought Diana more joy than pain.
She has certainly rolled with the punches.
So it is both because and although loving is an adventure that I
love and know that it is the sticking it out for life that gives
the joy its depth.
If what I have written is at all accurate about our most intimate
relationships, I must ask what in the world Saint Paul was thinking
when he wrote to the Ephesians that the spousal relation pointed
to Christ and the Church. He uses the counter-cultural language of
mutual submission, leaving space for the other to be, and honoring
who and what they are. The posture of mutual submission is not one
of demand or domination, but of service and flexibility.
Only this insight makes it possible for me to read church history
without walking away from church or otherwise flinching; beyond the
simple confession that Jesus is Lord, I can find nothing in our tradition
that has not substantially evolved.
In taking the Church to himself, Christ took a spouse who would
continually evolve, like any spouse. He must rejoice in that, as
he abets it, having already said, “and you will do greater
works than these.”
In the Christian tradition, including that of protestant hymnody,
both the individual soul and the Church are portrayed in the language
of a spousal relationship with Christ. This is, indeed, a great mystery:
the loving maintenance of relationship as parties grow and change
over the years is at the core of what the prayer book calls our “holy
union.”
Should we not also expect that both God and the Church will remain
in process? A God whom scripture recalls saying, “Behold, I
do a new thing,” may offer change when I want permanence and
peace, may offer bread when I want a stone. How like a lover!
People get hitched (as the Duchess of Cornwall put it) or come to
religion looking for a sense of security and companionship. Much
less commonly we come looking for adventure and change. We may not
welcome what is inevitable.
The marriage analogy in Ephesians reminds us of our continued vulnerability
to surprise and delight, neither of which can be predicted or institutionalized.
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