Rocco, my Italian grandfather rocked in the living room chair. My sister approached him, nervous but determined. He nursed a glass of red wine, Christmas music played on the stereo, and the fire made the room too hot.
She, his first grandchild to get engaged, was about to tell very-catholic-him that she was marrying a protestant.
It probably didn’t quite go down this way, but my memory sees the rest of us with heads poked gingerly around the doorframe – eavesdropping, our turtle-necks ready to pull back into the shell of the kitchen the moment the startle started.
She spoke. Rocco rocked, sipped his wine, said, “Do you love him?” She said “Yes.” His blue eyes bent upward in his dark face and the smile spread. “That’s good. That’s good. Come here.” They held hands and she spilled the details.
I remember my grandfather leaning forward, alight at the sound of thrill and rise of his granddaughter’s voice.
My, how we underestimate each other.
Surely, for centuries, in living rooms across the world, this same scene has played out, with only slight hitches in detail:
“Mom, he’s Jewish.”
“Dad, she’s divorced.”
“Grammy, she’s black (or brown, or white.)”
“Mom, I love her and she loves me,” said the girl.
“Dad, I love him and he loves me,” said the boy.
Will these last two be the next ones falling into the cultural heap of “OK. I understand?”
No?
Perhaps, like we underestimated my grandfather, we are underestimating each other.
Some groups spend millions to promote videos, books, seminars, and workshops designed to push the view that certain people loving each other will disrupt God’s social order, God’s Ultimate design.
They spend millions on websites, radio shows, magazines and TV shows that push the same thing.
Why raise the battle flags and circle the wagons about who may dare to love whom?
We have problems magnificent and plenty that are worthy of our sweat.
We have nuclear proliferation.
We have poverty and children without milk or medicine.
We have New Orleans, Iraq, a deficit growing like mold.
Is it essential to spend so much on the “fight” over who should love whom?
No matter how we try to kill it, love is – I wish it on everyone, along with deep breaths and calmness. Living and letting others live is no easy task.
We are creatures of difference and proclivity, of good will and of great strength. We possess enormous capacity for humility, kindness, acceptance, charity.
The human heart is wholly capable of seeing through smoke screens to what really matters. Lest others force us to forget, the human heart is maddeningly large.
Two men or two women loving each other through thick and thin, through ups and downs, through elections and pre-Christmas sales, children’s bad report cards and cleaning out the garage is not a threat.
The love other people have for each other can’t hurt us.
Poverty, however, can.
Crimes and drugs and guns can.
Over consumption of natural resources can.
Failing schools, lack of health care, or our elderly languishing alone, can.
Children without hope and food and parents can hurt us.
Might we consider putting the battle over he loves he and she loves she on the back and broken, burner?
We need peace to survive. We need prosperity – or at least food and immunizations and shelter for everyone – to survive. We need gentleness and honesty and acceptance to survive. We need brave souls and strong hearts to survive.
Is there bigger, harder work to be done?
On some bad days I think we are moving closer to the proverbial brink and choosing our battles more carefully may just pull us back. People who love? Why fight that? More power to them.
There’s a line from a song that runs through my head: “Be not afraid, I go before you always.” Love can be scary, and hard. I like to think that’s why we have holy books, moral leaders, churches and temples and each our own deep conscience.
God’s trying to teach us to love. After all, He already does and is waiting for the rest of us to calm and get down to His real work.
