And you and I

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

Love, though seen and experienced differently in different parts of the world, is a concept that pervades all of mankind. When we look across the scape of human culture and history, we find a myriad of translations that weave themselves into a colorful tapestry held together by our common experience of this phenomenon and made beautiful by our variety of views on the subject.

In what different ways do you use the word love? Love of family? Love of wife, husband, boyfriend, or girlfriend? Love of friends? Love of God or even country? The Ancient Greeks had several definitions, definitions we find mirrored in many other cultures and religions. Friendship, or the love of friends, was (and in Modern Greek still is) called Philia, a dispassionate and virtuous love that includes loyalty to friends, family, and community. Storge described the affection felt between parents and children, what in Japanese you might call Amae. Xenia was a form of love that might be defined as hospitality, an extremely important practice in Ancient Greece. It was an almost ritualized exchange in which the host would feed and shelter the guest, and though the guest might very well have been a complete stranger, he or she is only expected to repay with gratitude. In this sense, Xenia holds much in common with the Roman concept of Caritas, or the Buddhist and Hindu principle of Karuna, both of which may be translated as charity.

Eros is passionate love, sensuous and longing; it is love of the body, what in Buddhism and Hinduism is known as Kama. Although important and an integral part of any healthy relationship, it was considered one of the baser forms of love, and when experienced alone is invariably short-lived. Thus, Eros was often considered the doorway to a deeper form of love, much like physical attraction to another is our initiation into a relationship. This other form was known as Agape, which is in fact the Modern Greek word for love, though in Ancient Greek it might best be translated as “love of the soul”. It is a pure and ideal form of love that all desire but few experience. It was this Agape love that Paul glorified as the most important virtue in 1 Corinthians, chapter 13: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails.”

This is the love that God feels for mankind, this agape love. He feels it so strongly that he sacrificed his only son so that we might be reunited with him in the end. And this is what the Christmas season is all about: it’s an expression of God’s love for man through the birth of his son Jesus Christ. Never forget this fact; dwell on it, speak it, celebrate it. This winter, let love cascade over your whole body, let it fill your heart and pulse in your very veins; draw in the whole world in an embrace, for God is the source of all love, and he is reflected in every loving thought we have, in every loving word we speak, and in every loving act we do. Amen.

I know I've been out of touch recently, and to all my friends and family, I apologize. To all others, you have no business being here anyway. It's been an extremely busy couple of weeks, in case you hadn't heard. Three weekends ago I took the 3rd-level Japanese proficiency exam, for which I can't really comment on too much now as I don't receive my score back until February. I set my expectations as low as possible here (as in I had none) so as not to disappoint myself, and as such did a very sparse amount of studying and preparation. Perhaps more to the point, this exam really doesn't matter too much, I had little motivation to prepare well; a passing score on the 3rd level means next to nothing on an application or resume. It's the 2nd level that impresses, and it's the second level I'll be shooting for next year.

Then last weekend was the marathon. 3 months of hard preparation, of running in the freezing cold at night, of not being able to go out on the weekends because of training requirements (not that I had that many offers anyway), and I had a pretty lousy time to show for it. Having no history of long distance running, I didn't know how to pace myself, and consequently went out way too slowly. As I was reaching the halfway point (it was an out-and-back, not a loop), one of my students, a 3rd year high school girl, passed me going the other way, shouted my name out, and waved at me. Please God let her be running the half-marathon, I thought. Just to be safe, I sped up. I rounded the corner and turned it up a couple of notches. But the wind was against me, as were kilometers 35-39 (miles 22-24.5, because kilometers mean nothing to me either), and I couldn't make up lost time. I could hardly move for those 4 kilometers, every minute seemed like a lifetime, and I cursed Andrew's name--my friend and training partner who convinced me to do this. Then I finally reached kilometer marker 39 and felt a burst of energy, knowing that I had only 3 kilo left and seeing the stadium (finish line) looming on the horizon. I started flying. And when I entered the stadium, the stands were full, there were spectators cheering for me, and I rounded the final turn of the track in a full-on sprint.

My time was 4:06, her time was a 3:58 (she was running the full), and I was training for a sub 3:30 marathon, but I was still overwhelmed. When I finished my first 20-miler, I did a little Rocky dance and held my hands up high in celebration. When I finished my first marathon, I wept. I was so damned proud.

And now my work is finished. I wrapped up the final bit of it on Friday evening (I was the last one to leave the office!) doing a translation of a letter for a teacher, and I decided I was going to party like I've never partied before. I was in bed by 10:30.

The days are getting shorter and shorter (Winter Solstice is just around the bend), and the weather colder and colder. How is it that the wind can blow simultaneously in all directions? I'm chilled to the bone, and given its disproportinatel size, you can imagine how cold that must make me. I suppose part of it is because every building here is old and has no insulation, and maybe part of it is because I'm too skinny (?). I think I know now what Africans must feel like, except that they get to live in Africa.

And the Cowboys-'Skins game is on now, and there's nobody worth a damn left on Survivor. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm ready to come home.

And my eldest sister, arguably the most photogenic, isn't even among them (though this comes with the hidden bonus that my diminutive and oddly-proportioned brother-not-in-law is absent as well).

Sometimes I wonder why we continue to follow the rules of decency and etiquette even when we are solitary. Like, why do I feel the need to wrap a towel around myself after bathing? Why do I bother matching my clothes? Why did I used to refuse to urinate in the shower? Why, when it would be so much easier to pick up and eat with my hands, am I sitting here trying to eat this piece of fish with a pair of chopsticks?