I had to learn to share from a young age, since my first little brother came along well before I was two years old. I had to share my Duplos (anyone remember those?) as well as our parents' attention.
As time went by, my life was enriched by the coming of more little brothers. It was also complicated, as I learned to share more than just my toys. I didn't always like it when my brothers butted in on 'girl movies' I was supposed to be watching with just our mom. Sharing time and attention didn't come naturally.
Then, as I got into those overwhelming teenage years, my parents kept telling me I had to learn how to communicate -- to share those icky, messy feelings and the deeply personal thoughts that lay beneath (some of) them.
If we're being honest, I think for many of us that's a lifetime's work right there -- learning to share our deepest thoughts and emotions (and discerning with whom to share them). Vulnerability: in my head it comes with the image of standing naked in public. Both sound fairly unpleasant.
Yet, as that famous Lewis quote reminds us,
"To love at all is to be vulnerable" (C. S. Lewis,
The Four Loves). So the inverse is true: if we refuse vulnerability, we're cutting ourselves off from love. I think that's the one thing most of us fear more than vulnerability -- a life without love.
Before you decide I'm just repeating what has been said more eloquently by others, what I'd actually like to consider in a bit more depth is the intersection of love and beauty. Not in the conventional sense of how physical attraction relates/should relate to love, but how loving others relates to sharing experiences of beauty.
This is something I'm not always very comfortable with, because it requires a particular type of vulnerability. You're inviting someone else into your interior life, showing them the things you cherish in the privately curated museum of your soul. Whether it's a poem, a symphony, a fiery sunset, an indie rock song or an impressionist painting, we're not only sharing something we find beautiful, but we're also sharing something about ourselves -- how we see the world and how its beauty touches us.
And of course, with this openness enters the possibility of rejection, of ridicule. Sharing is always a risk, because the other person can, if they choose, just take and never give back, or stomp all over the thing we've given them. Still, if Lewis is to be believed, it is a risk worth taking.
We must also allow others to share their appreciation of beauty with us. This requires us to be open to the idea that we don't have a monopoly on good taste or sensitivity to beauty, which should be obvious, but is easy to forget in practice. Humility -- not a hugely popular word, but a Christian virtue (1 Peter 5:5) -- plays a role here. Philippians 2:3 instructs us, in love, to esteem others more highly than ourselves; I think it is safe to say this includes giving weight to others' opinions on and perceptions of beauty (though of course we mustn't abandon discrimination/taste altogether -- another post in that).
The goal, in the end, is
"love unfeigned" (2 Corinthians 6:6, KJV). I love that old-fashioned word. It's the genuine article, illustrated perfectly of course in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who sees and can redeem the beauty in each one of us -- because, of course, he put it there.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time."
- Ecclesiastes 3:11 -
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| Cambridge | March 2017 |
