Lessons From Loving,
Lessons For Living

Rev. Peter A. Friedrichs

February 11, 2007

I invite you to join me in a brief stroll down memory lane. If you're comfortable, close your eyes, or fix your gaze softly on something in front of you. Take a few deep breaths and clear your mind. And now, think back to the first time you fell in love. Picture yourself at the moment you first felt the sting of Cupid's arrow and fell head-over-heels in love. How old were you? What grade were you in? Where were you living? And who was the object of your desire? What was his or her name? Was he dark and handsome? Did she have sparkling blue eyes? Did you feel it the first time you set eyes on them, or were you surprised one day to realize it? Where did you first meet, or did you ever meet? Did you pick up the phone a hundred times before you actually dialed their number? How did you feel around this person? Did your palms sweat? Did your heart race? Were you weak at the knees? Were you quiet and shy, or did you gush and run at the mouth? Were you able to sleep, or did you toss and turn with thoughts of being together? Did your mind drift and wander? Did you find it impossible to focus on your work? Remember how consumed you were by the thought of this other person, how, more than anything you just wanted to be with them. Rest in the memory for a few moments, that time of being love-struck, crazy in love… And now, take a few deep breaths and bring yourself back to this place and this time, to the present.

There's a reason we call it "falling in love" and the term "love-sick" applies, doesn't it? That moment when everything else falls away and there is only the object of our desire and affection. We can't eat, we can't sleep, we can't work. Our head spins and our knees buckle and our heart aches. The symptoms sound dangerously close to the flu! And yet we long to feel this way. Once we've experienced the thrill of the first pangs of romantic love, we yearn to sustain it or to repeat it, over and over again. And our culture tells us that we're entitled to it. From soap operas to movies to popular music, we're told that we can and should feel the thrill of falling in love, over and over again. That being in love means falling in love.

Before I go on, let me be clear about one thing: I'm all in favor of celebrating love, of hoping for love, of dreaming of love, of being in love. Valentine's Day gives us the chance to affirm our relationships, to tell our beloved that we appreciate them, that they are special to us. I heartily recommend roses and cards and romantic dinners for two. I believe that it is possible to keep romance alive over the long haul. That having been said, I also want to tell you that this notion, this idea that being in love is the same as falling in love, that we should and can and will always feel about our beloved the way we felt when we first met them, is a lie. We cannot sustain, nor can we often repeat, that fateful feeling of falling in love. Like the drug that it is, we ache for it and often-times we do foolish and hurtful things to get it. But like a drug it's a quick fix and a short ride with a hard landing on the other side. If by some stroke of luck we're able to rediscover that feeling after another relationship has ended, we cannot hope for it to last. For this newness, too, will fade and the bloom will eventually fall from the rose. As Anne Morrow Lindbergh writes in today's reading, "We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb." But here's the good news: behind the falling in love lies something even better. After the fiery burn of the falling comes a slower, steadier warmth, a warmth that sustains and renews. Better than falling in love is loving, and being loved. Let me say that again: Better than falling in love is loving, and being loved.

I have been blessed in my life to be surrounded by love. My parents, who have been married for more than fifty years, love each other and they love me. I have three siblings whom I love and who love me in return. I have two beautiful daughters whom I love with a ferocity that I did not know I was capable of. I have a circle of close friends who support and love one another. And then there is Irene, my beloved, with whom I have shared my life for more than a quarter of a century. Yes, I have been blessed to be surrounded by love. I know that not everyone has shared in the abundance which I enjoy, but I do believe that loving and being loved is a universal human experience. At one time or another in all our lives, we have loved, and we have been loved. Whether in the bonds between parent and child, between one friend and another, between partners or spouses, or between ourselves and the Divine Mystery that some call God, each of us has held and been held in the arms of love.

Love is life's great teacher. The experiences of loving and being loved reveal deep truths that are only vaguely seen through other eyes. And like any great teacher, love repeats and repeats its lessons, over and over again, until we finally come to learn them. And I am pleased to report that I feel like I've finally at least graduated from kindergarten! So, having attained that lofty status, and seeing how it's nearly Valentine's Day, I thought I'd spend the next few minutes talking about what I have learned from loving, and from being loved.

In our opening words today you heard a portion of the well-known verse from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. In its entirety, it says, "Love is patient, love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." While I might suggest that love does not always rejoice in the truth and that at times it can be irritable, this is a pretty good list. Patience, kindness, humility, and flexibility are all necessary qualities of a healthy relationship. I would, however, take issue with Paul's last sentence. Love does not require us to bear all things or to endure all things. While we may be entirely devoted to our partner, spouse, friend or lover, love does not require us to submit to abuse or neglect.

I'd like to make a few additions of my own to Paul's list, the first of which is that love is present. This may sound obvious, but it is, I think, often overlooked. To love and to be loved, you have to be present. You cannot live in relationship with another person unless you bring yourself, your whole self, to the table. Sometimes this is easier said than done. The pressures of work and parenting and volunteering at church and the dozens of other distractions that present themselves to us daily can easily threaten this most basic of all relationship rules. If we are too tired, too angry, too preoccupied by the events of the day, to be fully present with those we love, love will wither on the vine.

And while being fully present is necessary, it is not sufficient. Love is not about just showing up and doing what's required of you. Love is more than emptying the trash, mowing the lawn, shoveling the walk, putting a meal on the table or putting the kids to bed. Love requires that we notice our beloved, that we ask just the right question, or say just the right words when they're needed most. To love is to observe and to respond. Love requires that we be fully present to the other person. Psychologist Erich Fromm put it this way: "Love is possible only if two persons communicate with each other from the center of their existence."

Which brings me to the next lesson of love. Love listens. Love listens. I was flipping through the channels on TV a few weeks ago and happened to catch a preview for some show, where a man and a woman are standing on a beach, quite a distance apart. Both of them have walkie-talkies, and they are trying to talk to each other. But the woman didn't understand that she needed to let go of the "talk" button to hear what the man was saying. So she's standing there, talking and talking, but getting no response. At the same time the man down the beach hears everything the woman is saying, but can't respond. You can imagine the frustration the two of them felt. She's talking and can't get a response. He's listening and is unable to respond. Love is a two-way radio that needs to be on "receive" most of the time. We cannot sustain a loving relationship if we don't let go of the "talk" button.

The problems of the couple on the beach opens us up to another principle of love. Love forgives. Love forgives us our flaws and our imperfections. Love forgives when we mess up, as we always do. Love does not expect perfection, and it extends grace in the face of our human frailties. In her essay, "The Blessings of Age," Barbara Rohde describes the five stages of a loving relationship:

1. Darling, you are perfect.

2. Good grief! You seem to have a few foibles!

3. Let me help you get rid of your foibles so you will indeed be perfect.

4. Okay, I love you in spite of your foibles.

5. I can't believe this has happened. I sometimes love you because of your foibles.

The flip side of this grace that abides in love is our willingness to admit our mistakes and to recognize our shortcomings. In Love Story, that sappy tear-jerker of a book and movie from the 1970's, Erich Segal tells us that "Love means never having to say you're sorry." This, my friends, is perhaps the most outrageous un-truth ever spoken. In my experience, at least, love means just the opposite - it means having to say you're sorry, over and over and over again.

These are some of the lessons I've learned from loving over the years, lessons that I, that all of us, must re-learn time and again. Be present. Pay attention. Listen. Forgive. Apologize. But perhaps the greatest lessons I've learned have come not from my loving, but from my being loved. When I step back and observe what it takes to love me, me with my considerable faults and failures, my shortcomings and my bad habits and I see that, despite everything, people actually do love me, well, there I learn the deepest truths of love and life. From being loved I have learned that it is possible, and sometimes necessary, to risk everything you know and want for the sake of another. From being loved I have learned that it is possible, and sometimes necessary, to follow a dream that is not your own. From being loved, I have learned that we can make ourselves vulnerable beyond prudent measure and we can dare to hope for new life after near death. From being loved I have learned that the thinnest thread, when offered from loving hands, can be a lifeline.

The poet Rainer Maria Rilke has written that "Love is a high inducement for individuals to ripen, to strive to mature in the inner self, to manifest maturity in the outer world, to become that manifestation for the sake of another. This is a great, demanding task; it calls one to expand one's horizon greatly." When we are loved, we are opened up to new horizons and new possibilities. The love of another is like a mirror, held up to our faces. But in that mirror we see ourselves not as we are, but as we might be. Those who love us create for us a vision to which we can aspire. This is perhaps love's greatest lesson. From being loved I have learned that I have the capacity to be a far better person than I ever dreamed I could be. From being loved, we learn that we are worthy of love, and what greater gift could we ever receive?

These are the lessons of love I wanted to share with you today. And they are, of course, also lessons for living each of our days. Be present and aware and responsive. Listen to one another. Be forgiving and seek forgiveness. Be willing to risk everything for the sake of another. Support someone's dream. Dare to be vulnerable when good sense urges otherwise. Reflect back to others the best in themselves. And let us always remember the words of Viktor Frankl, the concentration camp survivor who, amidst the horrors of the holocaust, discovered this essential truth: "The salvation of humanity is through love and in love." This day, and every day, I wish you love.

Amen.

Closing Words:

"For one human being to love another is perhaps the most difficult task of all, the epitome, the ultimate test. It is that striving for which all other striving is merely preparation." (Rilke)

Go forth in peace. Go forth in love.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License.

Did this sermon bring forth any special feelings, thoughts or concerns that you would like to share? Consider this link as providing you with an opportunity to talk back.