There is a saying that I often ponder: “Tell me what you love, and I will tell you who you are.” This is very close to Jesus’ statement, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (Matt. 6, 19) When we love someone or something, we can’t avoid thinking about them. When we continually think about something, we can’t help talking about it, and the fixation of lovers on their beloved is a heartwarming attitude.
We don’t need to publicize what we love. It is obvious to anyone with eyes to see. I remember going to Macy’s in Philadelphia to listen to the organ concerts given on the famous Wanamaker organ. I went up to the organ loft and watched the young organist as he was playing. Even more than his skill, I was struck by his deep enthusiasm. When he finished one piece and was preparing the score for the next, I commented, “You really love doing this!” “Yes, I do,” he replied simply, and it was obvious that he did.
There was also the time when I was talking with a homeless woman who was sitting on the sidewalk with all her belongings around her. “I have lost everything,” she told us, “except my dog,” and she smiled at the brown dog lying peacefully beside her. At that moment, the dog picked up her plastic latte bottle and started to chew on it. She gently removed the bottle and presented the dog with its rope chew, and it placidly accepted the replacement.
There is also the incident that Fr. Benedict Groeschel mentions, when he stopped to talk with a girl holding a baby. The mother was in her teens, and she clearly made her living soliciting customers on the street. When Fr. Groeschel said, “then you are all alone in the world,” she lifted up her chin and, showing him the baby, replied, “I have Aurora.”
Music, a dog, a child. Three people who all loved something. Musicians rarely are rich, and the two women had virtually nothing, yet each of these three had an air of contentment that radiated from them. Each of them loved something beyond themselves. They cherished what they loved. I believe that there are many others like them. If I asked you what you loved, many of you would be able to answer the question. You have only to look into your own hearts to find the answer.
But what about those who cannot answer that question? What about those who do not seem to have anything that they love, who do not seem to go out of themselves to anything that they cherish?
As I wrote, lovers feel compelled to share with others the wonder of their love. A collector will talk endlessly about his paintings, or sportscars, or horses. An artist will lecture to anyone within hearing about his sculptures, or compositions. A mother will compete with every other mother about the perfections of her child. And any man or woman in love will not even need words to proclaim the wonder of the one who holds his heart. As another saying goes, love is the only thing in the world that you cannot hide.
So again, what about those who seem to have no love, who proclaim something different and even opposite to love? I have been asking myself this question recently as I follow events reported in the news. There seems to be little love in our culture. There seem to be few things that we cherish, that we treat with the delicacy of lovers. The question became acute as I read accounts of the opening ceremony of the Olympics, with its apparent depiction of the Last Supper. Reactions to the event have been notable, with many calling it “shocking” and even “blasphemous”, but to me it calls forth the questions that I present in this article: “Tell me what you love, and I will tell you who you are.”
We can ask this question of the producers and actors of the event. They say that the event was intended to depict tolerance. So I assume that tolerance is what they love. Were they successful in conveying that love to their audience? When I think of the examples of love that I gave above, I find that all three people showed a reverence for what they love. The beloved is cherished, the lover has an inner peace that others perceive. Do we find either of those qualities in the “gods of Olympus” scene?
There have been other so-called parodies of Catholic practices. For example, the Los Angeles Dodgers celebrating the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence last year. How much peace do such events bring? If there is little peace flowing from these events, is it a valid question to ask how much peace do their producers have in themselves? We cannot help but share what we are. What do those around us receive from us?
I am a nun and I wear a habit. Not the same habit as the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence since mine is brown, but still I wear a habit. I am recognizable as a nun. People have commented on the peace that they experience when they come to our monastery. For each one of us, no matter who we are or how we live, our life is as much a production as the Opening of the Olympics or a Dodgers ball game. Our audience may be much smaller, only our family and friends, our co-workers and neighbors, but they will still be affected by how we live and by the values that we cherish. I pray that we may each find what it is that we love and that we may cherish it in a way that shows our love to those around us. Our culture needs the witness of our love and reverence.
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Gal. 5, 22) These are all one. Love without peace and joy and gentleness is only a word. Tolerance itself is only a word. Love and tolerance need to be lived with gentleness and reverence. We owe others more than just words. We owe them the deepest love that we ourselves possess.
Image: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U.S- December 23, 2018 – The Wanamaker organ display inside of Macy’s department store. Credit: By K.A – stock.adobe.com
Sr. Gabriela of the Incarnation, O.C.D. (Sr. Gabriela Hicks) was born in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, in the Gold Rush country of California, which she remembers as heaven on earth for a child! She lived a number of years in Europe, and then entered the Discalced Carmelite Monastery in Flemington, New Jersey, where she has been a member for forty years. www.flemingtoncarmel.org.
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