The Greatest Love?

Whitney Houston famously sang that the greatest love of all is learning to love oneself. Maybe it's really just the first step...

St. Bernard of Clairvaux—the eleventh century abbot, not the St. Bernard that the dog breed was named for (that was apparently Bernard of Menthon)—was the founder of the Cistercian Order of the Catholic Church. He wrote that there are four ascending levels of love through which we pass:

1. Love of self for self's sake
2. Love of God for self's sake
3. Love of God for God's sake
4. Love of self for God's sake

(Sometimes the most insightful ideas are found in ancient sources. Despite all our technological advances, we still often miss such simple yet profound truths.)

I find it very telling that in this progression, we begin with two levels for the sake of self and move into two higher levels of love for the sake of God. (As with any great truth, this need not only apply to the Judeo-Christian tradition; insert your own higher power here.) It's human nature to begin with everything focused on self. But in the growing and maturing process, we hopefully move beyond this tendency. In fact, for some of us, that first love of self is actually a big step.

In the second level, we are eventually able to take our eyes off ourselves to see and love Another. (I find it interesting that love of other people is not part of this progression. It may be that we can only do that after we have passed through these first four loves.) Yet even here, our focus on God still contains that selfish motive. We love God for our own sake. Still, it's a start—a necessary one, I would say. There's no jumping directly from 1 to 3, just as we cannot go from childhood directly to adulthood without going through the pains of adolescence.

Finally, we are able to start loving God and ourselves for God's sake. This is a huge step for many of us. To see ourselves through the eyes of another—whether that be God or another person—takes a good deal of perspective, empathy, and honesty. None of which come easily. I would venture that one must come to this place only through many years or many hardships. Or both.

At any rate, the longer I am on this earth (sometimes I feel like an infant, others like an old man), the more I believe that it all comes down to learning more what love is and how to do it better.

Breaking the Third Commandment

The twentieth chapter of Exodus reads, “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.” (I always feel like I want to switch to King James English when quoting the Ten Commandments.)

But what does it mean to “take God’s name in vain”? For years and years, the answer was very simply put: no cussing. As is so often the case with ancient texts, however, the answer is not so simple. Real truth never is. As humans—and especially as products of Modern Western thought—we often look for the quick answer.

I’ll be honest with you: I’m not easily offended by the language people use. There are certainly times where blue language is inappropriate, of course. And I will say that I don’t appreciate its use in those circumstances. However, I also think there are times when foul language is quite appropriate. Sometimes nothing else fits the situation. A prime example for me is the movie The Departed from 2006. I absolutely love the movie, and it holds the record for most uses of the f-bomb (237) to win Best Picture. I know that many people were offended by this, but I certainly was not. The movie would have been less realistic without the blue language. Working class Irish characters in Boston without the f-bombs? Not buying it.

As I said, I understand if some people are offended by language, and I will always try to respect that. But I have a problem with the curse police that some have become. Language has become one of those “purity code” markers that the Pharisees of today use as a litmus test. If certain words are heard to come from someone’s mouth, well then that person can’t be a Christian, right? Visions of Dana Carvey’s Church Lady come to mind.

Now as I said, I am all about being respectful to others in the use of language, but that’s not what I’m talking about. So what does “taking God’s name in vain” mean to me? I think it’s a much less specific transgression (like the late George Carlin’s Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television), but it’s one that might actually be offensive to God and should be to those who call themselves followers of God. I think the vainest use of God’s name is the hurtful, callous, spiteful, judgmental, damning, and even violent way that people will treat each other in the name of God and religion.

History is littered with examples including the Crusades, the Inquisition, the Salem witch trials, the slave trade, the Klan, segregation, the Troubles in Ireland, and on and on. And sadly, the offenses are not all historic. Every day, Christians, Muslims, Jews, and others (although the monotheistic religions seem to be the worst perpetrators) commit everything from genocide on down to slander and discrimination for religious reasons—not to mention our attitudes toward others.  And those “lesser” transgressions are more common and more insidious than the large scale ones.

Yes, language can be rude, offensive, and hurtful. (And there are more than just a few magic words to do it, I would add.) But it’s our actions that really take God’s name in vain.

Blithe Spiritualism

In just a few days, Blithe Spirit will be going up at the community theater at which I am involved (ephrataperformingartscenter.com/). I've mentioned this theater before, but this is the first production I've been involved in since I started this blog.

Blithe Spirit is a Noel Coward comedy from the 1940s that is considered one of his masterpieces. It really can be seen as the granddaddy of all the dryly funny British sitcoms that have come along over the years. It involves a socialite writer who invites a medium to his house as research for a book. She ends up conjuring the spirit of his late first wife, and the whole ball really gets rolling from there. It's quite a funny show, and I encourage anyone in the Lancaster County area during the month of June to come check it out. Coward wrote the play as pure escapism for 1941 England, and it serves that same purpose very well now.

But this post is not just about the show itself. It's been over two years since I've done a show, and I'm reminded of the truly spiritual process involved. Any form of art has a spiritual component. There are some truths that are beyond the power of words and reason to convey. We've all experienced this when faced with certain paintings, music, and so on. Having seen hundreds of live theater productions and participated in dozens, however, I am convinced there is in it a quality not found anywhere else. From the audience's perspective, one experiences an immediacy, a very real connection not possible in film or television. It's true of dramas, comedies, and musicals. Anyone who's enjoyed good theater would certainly agree.

As a actor or production person in live theater, that special connection really explodes. The audience participates in live theater, but in a more passive role. To be on the creative side of things is truly where the magic happens. Throughout the entire process of conceiving and writing a show (which I'll have to imagine for now), to planning and visualizing , to casting and staging, to rehearsal, and finally to production—it's a collaborative and very enriching form of creating. I feel that a community theater is not just made of people from a given community; it also becomes a community as it prepares and puts up a show. Even when I started doing shows in high school, there was a very strong sense of community involved in the process. That was a big part of what got me hooked.

I've been involved in more serious, artsy drama such as Streetcar Named Desire and Pillowman (a Martin McDonagh play that must be seen to be believed). And there is no denying the spiritual nature of good drama to touch people. The same is definitely true of musicals, some of which have scores that will make you cry or inspire you immeasurably. And in a good comedy, there is a spiritual life of its own. Yes, it's often seen as escapism. But that should not denigrate its value. It connects us too. Victor Borge said it very well: Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.