Love
Love in Vela's reading is not a feeling the corpus tries to define. It is the sustained orientation of self toward another that makes the other's flourishing matter — the orientation that survives the day's weather, the body's fatigue, the discovery that the beloved is not what one thought. The corpus pays attention to what love does, not to what love says about itself.
Working definition · Deep attachment, care, or cherishing that binds self to another.
3672 passages · 1 Vela essay · in 1 cluster
Vela’s read on this emotion
Love is the broadest of the emotions Vela reads and the one most often softened into sentiment. The reading runs through registers that resist the softening.
bell hooks's *All About Love* makes the case that love is best understood as a practice rather than a feeling — what one chooses to do for the beloved, repeatedly, over time. Marilynne Robinson's *Gilead* sequence reads love across generations and across the small daily decisions that constitute it. Wendell Berry's Port William stories read love as fidelity to a place and to the people who live in it. Carson McCullers wrote love as the climate of difficult intimacies. The queer literature — Maggie Nelson's *The Argonauts*, Garth Greenwell — has had to re-imagine love against received scripts.
The contemplative tradition holds love as a serious subject across centuries. The thirteenth chapter of *1 Corinthians* — *love is patient, love is kind* — names love as what it does. Augustine of Hippo writes about *amor* across the *Confessions* as the orienting motion of the soul. The four Greek words — *agape* (selfless care), *eros* (desiring love), *philia* (the love of friends), *storge* (the love of family) — let the same English word hold registers that the contemplative writers have kept separate.
Love is not the same as tenderness, desire, admiration, or gratitude. Tenderness is love's somatic posture when the beloved is fragile. Desire is the lean; love is what survives the lean's exhaustion. Admiration is approach toward something held above; love does not require that altitude. Gratitude is the recognition of a gift; love can be present even when the gift goes unrecognized.
A slower companion essay on love is forthcoming.
Study and magazine
Long-form guide in the magazine
An essay on how this word lives in language, in the tagged corpus, and in figurative art when curators pair passage with image — not a list of stages, not permission to feel.
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Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.
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3672 tagged passages
From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)
dad was dapper in his own fashion. The house was jammed with friends both from the Center and beyond, all there to celebrate a marriage that had been forced into hiding for so many years. The seven of us Walshes posed for pictures as a family—there had been nothing like this before in our lives. It was a far cry from life only two years earlier. And after the cake and the pictures were done, the five of us children presented our parents with an all-expense-paid three-week trip to England, Germany, France, and Italy. It was the start of a thirty-year adventure that saw them visit and revisit the great Catholic sites of Europe. After the guests had left the anniversary party and the cameras had stopped clicking, my parents sat together on the couch. The atmosphere was quiet, and as I plopped myself into an upholstered wing chair next to them, all of us still in our festive attire, it seemed a good moment to talk to them about the Center and to hear from them how it had unfolded, a subject that had been on my mind for the last few years but which I had been reluctant to discuss. They spoke softly and without rancor of how their faith mattered to them, how they truly believed in the dogma of “No Salvation Outside the Catholic Church.” If that meant being scorned by the world and the Church they loved, they were prepared to accept that burden. They may have been excommunicated in the eyes of the world, they said, but in their own eyes they were the true Catholics. They told me that they had no problem living a communal life, studying together and eating meals as a community, and even going out on the road to sell books. What they were not prepared for, however, was the rupturing of their family and the loss of their role as parents. My father likened the ever-tightening grip on their lives to a snowball. “First it was small,” he said. “Each new rule seemed insignificant on its own, but before long, it had become monumental, and we felt trapped.” My mother’s voice became emotional when she spoke of the separation of the families. “It was the most awful day of my life. Brother Henry, in his cold, haughty manner, told us that all the children three years of age and older would no longer live with their parents but would be under the supervision of Sister Matilda. No rationale was given, no opportunity to ask questions or to discuss, much less object. Brother Henry delivered his edict and left. We were sure he was carrying out Father’s orders.” She paused before finishing her thought.
From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)
office. She herself played the role of hostess, sitting erect and cheerful at one end of the long library table, an elegant silver samovar set up in front of her. The Big Brothers and Sisters were invited, and the oldest of us children, wearing white gloves and having been instructed by Sister Catherine on the protocols, acted as servers. We were to be “seen but not heard,” she advised us as we took our seats silently on the brocade-covered, tall-backed, oak library chairs stationed along the side wall. That was until the adults entered, when we went into action. I could count on my parents to arrive early (and separately) and to stay until the very end. The moment they set foot in the library, I made a beeline for one of them. “Sister Elizabeth Ann, would you like some tea?” She answered with a smile, “Yes, please, dear.” “With milk or lemon?” Then I hurried over to Brother James Aloysius before anyone else could get to him. He would wink at me as I approached him, and he always said, “Thank you, my little princess,” as he selected cookies from the china platter I held with both hands. I felt like a princess serving my king. As much as I loved our tea parties, it was the Sunday morning community meeting that I lived for, counting down the days as the week wore on. Then for two blissful hours, it was family time, unrestricted by rules or oversight by the Angels. “How is my little princess?” Brother James Aloysius would greet me and each of my three younger sisters. Taking my father’s hand one Sunday morning, I felt something was different. I looked at his fingers: His wedding ring was gone. “Where’s your ring?” I asked. He grew silent and paused as he did when he was thinking. Then pointing to his chest, he said softly, “It’s right here, safe and sound in my scapular.” Everyone at the Center, adults and children, wore a scapular, a Catholic tradition. A simple square of sackcloth that had been blessed by a priest, the scapular was worn next to the skin. Father had told us again and again that if you died with your scapular on, you would never go to hell.
From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)
I myself was becoming increasingly secure in my role as a worldly woman, provided, that is, no mention was made of my past. I had a nice Irish Catholic boyfriend, a couple of years older than I was, whose family lived on Long Island. He was in the Navy and said he was hoping to attend the police academy when he was discharged. Polite and soft spoken, he was courteous to my parents when he joined us for Sunday dinners, and he was blissfully romantic when I could be alone with him. He was my first true love out in the world. We talked of marriage, and he brought me to visit his family, but something inside me kept saying, “No—you need someone who is more intellectual. You will become bored with him.” I spoke only of going to college and of all the places in the world I wanted to visit. He’d laugh, not out of disrespect but more in disbelief, as though I was too much for him, not likely to be the kind of wife he needed. When we broke up, I was hurt but not damaged—he was almost too good for me, and I too adventurous for him. * * * In June, little more than a year after Sister Catherine was buried, and hours after my brother graduated from high school, my father drove away from the Center with two of his children. The only family members remaining behind at the Center were Sister Mary Catherine, now a professed nun at the age of nineteen,
From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)
V63In Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Julia Child writes, “Cooking is not a particularly difficult art, and the more you cook and learn about cooking, the more sense it makes. But like any art it requires practice and experience. The most important ingredient you can bring to it is a love of cooking for its own sake.” I did not think it was possible for me to love cooking. I did not think such a love was allowed. I did not think I could love food or indulge in the sensual pleasures of eating. It did not occur to me that to cook for myself was to care for myself or that I was allowed to care for myself amidst the ruin I had let myself become. These things were forbidden to me, the price I paid for being so wildly undisciplined about my body. Food was fuel, nothing more, nothing less, even if I overindulged in that fuel whenever I could. But then I moved to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and lived in a town of about four thousand while attending graduate school. And after that I took my job in Charleston, Illinois, another small town. I became a vegetarian and realized that if I wanted to eat, I was going to have to prepare meals for myself or I would be relegated to a diet of iceberg lettuce and French fries. Around that same time, I started watching Barefoot Contessa, Ina Garten’s cooking show on the Food Network, every day from four to five p.m., just after I got home from campus. It was a time to let the world go and relax. I love the show. I love everything about Ina. Her hair is always glossy and smooth in a perfectly coiffed dark bob. She wears a variation on the same shirt every day. I learned from the FAQs on her website that her shirt is custom-made, but she won’t divulge by whom. She is married to a man named Jeffrey who has a fondness for roast chicken, and if the show is any indication, their relationship is an adoring one. She is intelligent and wealthy and wears these traits comfortably but inoffensively. Ina loves rhetorical questions. “How good is that?” she’ll ask while sampling one of her delicious dishes. Or, “Who wouldn’t want that for their birthday?” while planning a surprise for one of her coterie of elegant Hamptons friends. Or, “We need a nice cocktail for breakfast, don’t we?” when preparing brunch for some of her many always attractive, wealthy, and often gay friends. There is one episode where she takes food (bagels and lox) on a trip to Brooklyn to eat more food (at a farmer’s market or some such). I love Ina Garten so much one of my wireless networks at home is named Barefoot Contessa. It’s like she’s watching over me that way.
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation52 future. In chapter 5, Moses states the T en Commandments for a second time and makes them the center of this book. The hearers are instructed to teach the commandments to their children and to explain that God gave them the commandments so that life might go well with them. The goal is the well-being of the community. Moses’s farewell address in Deuteronomy continues to resonate with many Jewish people today; he seeks to ensure that a sense of devotion to God be passed on to the generations that follow. Lecture 7—Israel’s Wandering in the Wilderness 53 Yet as we keep reading, we find a notable tension in Deuteronomy in the depiction of Israel’s relationship to outsiders. ● Chapter 7 tells us that God chose the people of Israel because he loved them. It was out of love and devotion that he brought Israel out of slavery. And having conveyed his love to them, God now directs them to love him in return. That makes sense. ● But just before this in chapter 7, there is a stark reminder that for the people of Israel to possess the land, they need to drive out the people who are already living there. It’s a militant passage that tells of Israel conquering the people of Canaan and showing them no mercy. ● Then, in chapter 10, a more gracious element reappears—a reiteration of God’s love for Israel and the importance of showing love for God. The text adds that God also loves outsiders. Because God loved Israel’s ancestors when they were aliens, they are to do the same for the aliens in their own community. ● In the same book, there are passages that call for wholehearted devotion toward God and harsh tactics against other nations. And Deuteronomy does not resolve that tension. At the end of the book, Moses finishes the speech and blesses the people. He dies and is buried, though the narrative says that no one ever learned where his grave was located. Suggested Reading Miller, Deuteronomy. Olson, Numbers. Questions to Consider 1. Leviticus centers on questions of what is sacred or holy. What aspects of the book seem most different from what people today might associate with the sacred? Are there connections with the way people think of the sacred today? 2. Deuteronomy focuses on the call for devotion to God. How does Deuteronomy elaborate what such devotion entails? How does Deuteronomy understand the implications of devotion to God for relationships among people?
From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)
Haitians love the food from our island, but they judge gluttony. I suspect this rises out of the poverty for which Haiti is too often and too narrowly known. When you are overweight in a Haitian family, your body is a family concern. Everyone—siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, cousins—has an opinion, judgment, or piece of counsel. They mean well. We love hard and that love is inescapable. My family has been inordinately preoccupied with my body since I was thirteen years old. My mother, who stayed home to raise my brothers and me, did not teach me how to cook, and I had little interest in being taught. I just enjoyed watching her prepare our meals from the periphery of the kitchen—the efficiency with which she pursued the task always impressed me. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She could hold a conversation, but when something demanded her attention, she hushed and it was like the whole world fell away from her. She did not enjoy sharing the kitchen space and did not want help. She always wore latex gloves, like a doctor—to avoid contamination, she said. She was known to add a drop of Clorox to the water when washing meat or fruit or vegetables. She washed a dish or cutting board or bowl immediately after it had been used. Save for the aromas wafting from the gas stove, you would never know my mother was cooking. Throughout my childhood, my mother prepared a bewildering combination of foods—American dishes from the Betty Crocker Cookbook or The Joy of Cooking one night, and a Haitian meal the next. The dishes I remember, the ones I love most, are Haitian—legumes, fried plantains, red rice, black rice; griyo, or pork marinated in blood orange and roasted with shallots; Haitian macaroni and cheese—everything served with sauce (a tomato-based sauce with thyme, peppers, and onions) and spicy pickled vegetables, everything made from scratch. This was how my mother demonstrated her affection. My mother didn’t believe in processed foods or fast food, so I have never eaten many foods people take for granted—TV dinners, Chef Boyardee, Kraft Mac & Cheese. She was ahead of her time. Her stance infuriated my brothers and me because our American friends got to eat magical foods like sugary breakfast cereals, and snack on Cheetos and Chips Ahoy and Little Debbie Snack Cakes. “Fruit is a snack,” my mom would tell us. I vowed, when I grew up, to decorate my home with clear glass bowls filled with M&M’s and she laughed. The older we got, the laxer my mom became. By the time my youngest brother arrived, junk food had breached the perimeter of our home, though in the moderation entirely characteristic of my parents.
From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)
Every picture of me as an infant with my parents reveals them smiling at me like I am the center of their world. I was. I am. This is part of my truth I know with real clarity—everything good and strong about me starts with my parents, absolutely everything. Almost every picture of me as an infant shows me smiling a smile so infectious that when I look at them I cannot help but smile too. There are happy babies and there are happy babies. I was a happy baby. This is indisputable. Babies are cute, but they’re pretty useless, my best friend says. They can’t do much for themselves. You have to love them through that uselessness. In the pictures where I am alone, I am being propped up by the arm of a chair, or a few pillows. In one picture, on a hideous, thickly brocaded red couch, I am alone and visibly screaming my head off. There is more than one picture of me screaming my head off. Pictures of screaming babies are hilarious when you know they are pictures of happy babies who are simply having a random fit of baby rage. I look at these baby pictures and think, I look like my niece, but really it is my young niece who looks like me. Family is powerful, no matter what. We’re always tied together with our eyes and our lips and our blood and our bloody hearts. When I was three, my brother Joel was born. There are pictures of him, brown and round, a full head of hair, sitting or standing next to me. As an adult, I have gone through these albums many times. I have been trying to remember. At first, I looked for pictures to show a child of my own, “This is where you come from,” so when I have that child, she might know her family knows how to love, however imperfectly, so she knows her mother has always been loved and so she may know that she, in turn, will always be loved. It is important to show a child love in many forms, and this is the one good thing I have to offer, no matter how this child comes into my life. I also study the pictures, the people in them; I recall the names and places, the moments that matter, so many of which elude me. I try to piece together the memories I have so carefully erased. I try to make sense of how I went from the child in these perfect photographed moments to who I am today.
From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)
V63In Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Julia Child writes, “Cooking is not a particularly difficult art, and the more you cook and learn about cooking, the more sense it makes. But like any art it requires practice and experience. The most important ingredient you can bring to it is a love of cooking for its own sake.” I did not think it was possible for me to love cooking. I did not think such a love was allowed. I did not think I could love food or indulge in the sensual pleasures of eating. It did not occur to me that to cook for myself was to care for myself or that I was allowed to care for myself amidst the ruin I had let myself become. These things were forbidden to me, the price I paid for being so wildly undisciplined about my body. Food was fuel, nothing more, nothing less, even if I overindulged in that fuel whenever I could. But then I moved to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and lived in a town of about four thousand while attending graduate school. And after that I took my job in Charleston, Illinois, another small town. I became a vegetarian and realized that if I wanted to eat, I was going to have to prepare meals for myself or I would be relegated to a diet of iceberg lettuce and French fries. Around that same time, I started watching Barefoot Contessa, Ina Garten’s cooking show on the Food Network, every day from four to five p.m., just after I got home from campus. It was a time to let the world go and relax. I love the show. I love everything about Ina. Her hair is always glossy and smooth in a perfectly coiffed dark bob. She wears a variation on the same shirt every day. I learned from the FAQs on her website that her shirt is custom-made, but she won’t divulge by whom. She is married to a man named Jeffrey who has a fondness for roast chicken, and if the show is any indication, their relationship is an adoring one. She is intelligent and wealthy and wears these traits comfortably but inoffensively. Ina loves rhetorical questions. “How good is that?” she’ll ask while sampling one of her delicious dishes. Or, “Who wouldn’t want that for their birthday?” while planning a surprise for one of her coterie of elegant Hamptons friends. Or, “We need a nice cocktail for breakfast, don’t we?” when preparing brunch for some of her many always attractive, wealthy, and often gay friends. There is one episode where she takes food (bagels and lox) on a trip to Brooklyn to eat more food (at a farmer’s market or some such). I love Ina Garten so much one of my wireless networks at home is named Barefoot Contessa. It’s like she’s watching over me that way.
From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)
Everyone was so worried about me when I broke my ankle and it confused me. I have a huge, loving family and a solid circle of friends, but these things were something of an abstraction, something to take for granted, and then all of a sudden, they weren’t. There were people calling me every day and hovering over my hospital bed and sending me things just to cheer me up. There were lots of concerned texts and e-mails, and I had to face something I’ve long pretended wasn’t true, for reasons I don’t fully understand. If I died, I would leave people behind who would struggle with my loss. I finally recognized that I matter to the people in my life and that I have a responsibility to matter to myself and take care of myself so they don’t have to lose me before my time, so I can have more time. When I broke my ankle, love was no longer an abstraction. It became this real, frustrating, messy, necessary thing, and I had a lot of it in my life. It was an overwhelming thing to realize. I am still trying to make sense of it all even though it has always been there. It has now been more than two years. There is a throbbing in my left ankle that reminds me, “Once, these bones were shattered.” I always wonder what healing really looks like—in body, in spirit. I’m attracted to the idea that the mind, the soul, can heal as neatly as bones. That if they are properly set for a given period of time, they will regain their original strength. Healing is not that simple. It never is. Years ago, I told myself that one day I would stop feeling this quiet but abiding rage about the things I have been through at the hands of others. I would wake up and there would be no more flashbacks. I wouldn’t wake up and think about my histories of violence. I wouldn’t smell the yeasty aroma of beer and for a second, for several minutes, for hours, forget where I was. And on and on and on. That day never came, or it hasn’t come, and I am no longer waiting for it. A different day has come, though. I flinch less and less when I am touched. I don’t always see gentleness as the calm before the storm because, more often than not, I can trust that no storm is coming. I harbor less hatred toward myself. I try to forgive myself for my trespasses. In my novel, An Untamed State, after Miri, my protagonist, has been through hell, she thinks about how sometimes broken things need to be broken further before they can truly heal. She wants to find something that will break her in that necessary way so she can get back to the life she had before she was kidnapped.
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Lecture 21—Esther, Daniel, and Life under Empire 139 obey could turn into a national crisis, because women everywhere might start disobeying their husbands. T o guard against this threat, the king banishes Vashti from his presence and decrees that men are to be masters in their own houses. The king’s aides quickly begin searching for a new queen. One of the candidates is Esther, who keeps her Jewish identity a secret. When she is brought to the king, he immediately falls in love with her, and she becomes the queen. This extraordinary turn of events helps the king in ways he didn’t anticipate. We learn that the two of the king’s servants are planning to kill him, and Esther’s adoptive father, Mordecai, hears about the plot. He tells Esther about it, she warns the king, and the king has the would-be assassins put to death. Mordecai has saved the day, and his noble deed is written down in the royal records. The plot of the book of Esther begins with a festive Persian banquet and ends with the Jewish festival of Purim; in between, the villain Haman devises one wicked scheme after another.
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Lecture 28—Self-Giving Love According to John 187 ● The fact that Judas, who has already decided to betray Jesus, is still in the room gives the foot washing a more radical quality. The devil has already put betrayal into Judas’s heart, yet Jesus responds by washing Judas’s feet, which is a gesture of love. The narrative also tells us that Jesus knows which of the disciples will betray him. By washing the feet of Judas, along with those of the other disciples, Jesus transforms love into an act of resistance. It confronts evil and the hatred it represents. ● In John’s Gospel, this kind of militant love defines Jesus’s course of action, and it will come to full expression in the crucifixion. In John 15:13, Jesus says, “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Jesus conveys love in a preliminary way by washing the feet of his friends and his betrayer. And he will convey love in a more radical way when he confronts hostility again and lays down his life through the crucifixion. This kind of love also defines the disciples’ actions. After washing their feet, Jesus says he has given an example, which he then he puts as a commandment: “Just as I have loved you, you are to love one another.” Unlike the earlier commandment to love others as we love ourselves, the disciples are to love others as Jesus loves them. They are to see themselves as recipients of a love that comes from outside themselves and, in turn, to bring that love to expression. The Continuation of Relationship In all four gospels, Jesus spends time in conversation with the disciples during the Last Supper. In John, the main issue in this section (John 14–17) is the threat of separation. Jesus tells the disciples that it is time for him to depart. Yet in the face of his impending departure, he speaks about ways in which his relationship with them will continue. Jesus hones in vividly on the issue of separation when he says, “I will not leave you orphaned.” On one level, being orphaned depicts the immediate situation of the disciples, who will soon experience the trauma of Jesus’s crucifixion. But on another level, it also speaks to the situation of later readers, who lived decades after Jesus’s ministry had ended. They were a minority group in a society where most people did not share their beliefs, and they felt marginalized or orphaned.
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation216 For Paul, the cross conveys the extremity of divine love. If love is shown by giving and if the greatest gift one can give is one’s life, then the crucifixion shows God in the act of utmost self-giving. Crucifixion does not follow conventional patterns of equating love with beauty or romantic ideals. Conveying love through crucifixion shows a willingness to give up dignity, status, and life itself for the sake of another. That is how crucifixion reveals divine love—by revealing the extent to which God gives himself to restore relationships with humans. By ordinary human standards, the message of the cross was repugnant. It should have turned people away. Thus, the fact that the Corinthians had been drawn to God through it is astonishing. Paul insists that neither he nor Apollos nor Cephas can take credit for the Corinthians’ faith. And that means that none of them can have the central place in the community. The unifying center of the congregation must be Christ. The Spirit Another issue that concerned the Christians at Corinth was “spiritual things.” This issue posed similar questions as it does today: Is spirituality necessarily linked to a religious tradition, or can it be understood as something more private? As in our time, there were some in Corinth who felt that God’s Spirit inspired them to speak with ecstatic words or utter prophetic messages. Yet there were still others who did not have these spiritual experiences, and that created tension, because some thought that spiritual experiences gave them a higher status in the community. Paul responds by telling them that they can’t discern the presence of God’s Spirit simply by looking for emotional intensity. Instead, the principal manifestation of the Spirit’s work is faith, and faith is what everyone in the congregation has in common. ● Paul’s assumption is that faith is a relationship of trust. It’s a sense of trust in God that comes about through an encounter with God—and that’s where the Spirit comes in. We’ve seen that Paul told the Corinthians about the self- sacrificing love of God being conveyed through the crucified man named Jesus. And he acknowledged that words alone could not make them believe this.
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation224 Letter to the Romans Paul wrote to the Romans in the mid- to late 50s of the 1 st century. By that time, there were a number of Christian congregations in the city with members of both Jewish and non-Jewish backgrounds. Paul never visited these congregations, but he wrote a letter conveying his understanding of the faith for this multi-ethnic readership. In Romans 1:16–17, Paul says that the gospel is “the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed.” Paul centers his message on God’s righteousness. Paul focuses on the God of Israel—the God who had freed the people from slavery and sent the prophets. He insists that this same God has now acted to set things right through Jesus, who was Jewish. Then Paul adds that the message is also for people of non-Jewish background. The idea that God seeks to make relationships right with everyone, on the same basis, is the central point of this section. In chapters 1 to 5, Paul argues that God deals with everyone on the same basis because all have the same need. Paul tries to show the degree of commonality among people of various backgrounds. He gives examples of wrongdoing ranging from murder to greed—acts that are not limited to Jews or Greeks but are part of the human condition. Paul says that all acts of wrongdoing reveal the same underlying condition: All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Paul wants readers to see that imperfection is something they have in common with all other humans. For this reason, God extends salvation to everyone on the same basis. God wants his relationship with all people to be set right. For Paul, the crucifixion of Jesus conveys God’s refusal to let human failings set the terms for relationship. It shows God’s freedom to act in love toward the people estranged from him. Conflict and Reconciliation Paul notes that in his experience, the message of Jesus brought not only reconciliation but conflict, especially conflict within the Jewish community. As he turns to this problem, Paul shifts the issue from the human to the divine
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation 228 slave are Christians, Paul wants Philemon to receive Onesimus back “no longer as a slave but ... as a beloved brother.” The idea here is that in community, people are not free to be autonomous because freedom takes the form of new relationship. Instead of relating to Onesimus as a slave, Philemon is to relate to him as a brother. ●Family ties were a principal source of identity and belonging in the ancient world. In addition, people were obliged to look out for the interests of others in their families, and they counted on family members for support. ●To underscore the gravity of his message, Paul adds that Philemon is to welcome Onesimus as he would welcome Paul himself. And throughout the letter, Paul says that Philemon is his brother, too. Thus, Philemon should treat Onesimus and Paul in the same way. Paul concludes by saying he is confident that Philemon will do even more than he has asked. Ephesians If the perspective in Philemon is immediate and personal, the outlook in Ephesians is cosmic. It begins with an expansive statement of praise to God, whose grace unfolds throughout the ages. Chapter 1 says that before the world was even created, God developed a plan to bring salvation. And now, in the fullness of time, that plan was carried out through Jesus Christ and the church. A central concept in the letter is God’s desire to bring unity among all things in heaven and on earth in Jesus. In chapter 2, the writer relates the theme of unity to the divisions that had separated Jews and Gentiles. He says that Jews had citizenship in Israel, whereas Gentiles were foreigners or aliens to it. He compares the differences to a stone wall that divided the two groups. But the writer says that the wall of hostility has now been broken down. The Gentiles, who once were foreigners, can become citizens among the people of God. Ephesians considers the relationship of husbands and wives in chapter 5. Ancient writers frequently stressed the importance of harmony within marriage; at the same time, these writers generally assumed that the husband was the head of the household. ●Ephesians 5:21 reads, “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ,” making the relationship seem mutual. People are to be subject to
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Lecture 7—Israel’s Wandering in the Wilderness 53 Yet as we keep reading, we find a notable tension in Deuteronomy in the depiction of Israel’s relationship to outsiders. ●Chapter 7 tells us that God chose the people of Israel because he loved them. It was out of love and devotion that he brought Israel out of slavery. And having conveyed his love to them, God now directs them to love him in return. That makes sense. ●But just before this in chapter 7, there is a stark reminder that for the people of Israel to possess the land, they need to drive out the people who are already living there. It’s a militant passage that tells of Israel conquering the people of Canaan and showing them no mercy. ●Then, in chapter 10, a more gracious element reappears—a reiteration of God’s love for Israel and the importance of showing love for God. The text adds that God also loves outsiders. Because God loved Israel’s ancestors when they were aliens, they are to do the same for the aliens in their own community. ●In the same book, there are passages that call for wholehearted devotion toward God and harsh tactics against other nations. And Deuteronomy does not resolve that tension. At the end of the book, Moses finishes the speech and blesses the people. He dies and is buried, though the narrative says that no one ever learned where his grave was located. Suggested Reading Miller, Deuteronomy. Olson, Numbers. Questions to Consider 1. Leviticus centers on questions of what is sacred or holy. What aspects of the book seem most different from what people today might associate with the sacred? Are there connections with the way people think of the sacred today? 2. Deuteronomy focuses on the call for devotion to God. How does Deuteronomy elaborate what such devotion entails? How does Deuteronomy understand the implications of devotion to God for relationships among people?
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Lecture 32—Paul’s Letters to a Community in Conflict 217 ●For there to be genuine trust, God needed to be present through the Spirit, giving people the sense that what was being said was true. For Paul, this is a hallmark of the Spirit. When the message of Jesus rings true for someone, there, the Spirit of God is at work. Beyond that, Paul says, the Spirit might do different things, and different spiritual gifts were supposed to build up the community, not tear it apart. As examples, he says that God’s Spirit can empower people to share wisdom and knowledge, to heal and work miracles. For some, it can take the form of ecstatic speech. But he insists that people cannot expect uniformity in these gifts and experiences. To emphasize his point, Paul insists that love is the measure of each person’s role. In 1 Corinthians 13, he writes: “If I can prophesy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” He goes on to say that love is patient and kind, it is not jealous or boastful, and endures all things. In the face of tension over different spiritual experiences, Paul puts love at the center because he understands that self-sacrificing love characterizes God himself. For Paul, prophesying and speaking in tongues are of value, but they are not of ultimate value. Prophesying and speaking in tongues eventually will end, but love endures because God endures. Love has abiding value. And all the different spiritual gifts the community receives should rightly be used in the service of love. Paul on Resurrection At the end of 1 Corinthians, Paul takes up a different question that was disputed at Corinth: the question of death and the nature of hope. Of course, people in every culture have different ways of coming to terms with death, ranging from continued life in an underworld to nothingness. One distinctive idea of death that was favored by some Jewish groups was resurrection—the idea that people remained in the realm of the dead until the end of the present age; then, they would be raised to life again as a group. Some expected resurrection to bring about a restoration of bodily life; others thought
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
186 LECTURE 28 Self-Giving Love According to John I n the first half of John, the writer tells us of Jesus’s signs, but the meaning of these actions is often unclear. The narrative identifies conflicting points of view and, through the interplay of different perspectives, points to the central idea that Jesus is the giver of life. In this lecture, we’ll look at the second half of the gospel, where the challenge of discerning meaning continues. Here, the central question is this: If Jesus is the giver of life, what should we make of his crucifixion? As we read John’s final chapters, we will explore how the writer relates the crucifixion to self-giving love, the continuation of relationship, the completion of Jesus’s work, and the dynamics of faith. Self-Giving Love The first sentence of John 13 tells us that even before the Passover meal, Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to depart from this world. Thus, “having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” The writer knows that he is about to describe Jesus doing things that can be construed in different ways. T o prepare readers to see the meaning of these events differently, John asks them to interpret everything that Jesus does as an expression of love. The main action in the opening scene is remarkably simple: Jesus washing and drying the feet of his disciples. But in terms of ordinary practice, everything about this is disorienting. Jesus interrupts the meal to engage in foot washing, assumes the attire of a slave by putting on a servant’s towel, and does the work of a slave by washing his disciples’ feet. When Peter asks why their teacher is acting as a slave toward his followers, Jesus responds that what he is doing is essential for their relationship. As readers, we see foot washing as an expression of utter devotion. By taking on the role of a slave, Jesus conveys the extent of his love.
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Lecture 32—Paul’s Letters to a Community in Conflict 217 ● For there to be genuine trust, God needed to be present through the Spirit, giving people the sense that what was being said was true. For Paul, this is a hallmark of the Spirit. When the message of Jesus rings true for someone, there, the Spirit of God is at work. Beyond that, Paul says, the Spirit might do different things, and different spiritual gifts were supposed to build up the community, not tear it apart. As examples, he says that God’s Spirit can empower people to share wisdom and knowledge, to heal and work miracles. For some, it can take the form of ecstatic speech. But he insists that people cannot expect uniformity in these gifts and experiences. T o emphasize his point, Paul insists that love is the measure of each person’s role. In 1 Corinthians 13, he writes: “If I can prophesy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” He goes on to say that love is patient and kind, it is not jealous or boastful, and endures all things. In the face of tension over different spiritual experiences, Paul puts love at the center because he understands that self-sacrificing love characterizes God himself. For Paul, prophesying and speaking in tongues are of value, but they are not of ultimate value. Prophesying and speaking in tongues eventually will end, but love endures because God endures. Love has abiding value. And all the different spiritual gifts the community receives should rightly be used in the service of love. Paul on Resurrection At the end of 1 Corinthians, Paul takes up a different question that was disputed at Corinth: the question of death and the nature of hope. Of course, people in every culture have different ways of coming to terms with death, ranging from continued life in an underworld to nothingness. One distinctive idea of death that was favored by some Jewish groups was resurrection—the idea that people remained in the realm of the dead until the end of the present age; then, they would be raised to life again as a group. Some expected resurrection to bring about a restoration of bodily life; others thought
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Lecture 34—Paul on Gender Roles and Slavery 229 one another by serving one another. But then, the letter says that wives are to be subject to their husbands as they are to Christ. The husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church. Picturing the husband as the head certainly alters the sense of mutuality. ● Yet the writer also says that husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. The trait of a husband is not domination but self-giving. That is the aspect of Christ that husbands are to emulate. They are to love, nourish, and care for their wives as Christ does for the church. In chapter 6, the writer tells slaves to obey their earthly masters as they obey Christ. Thus, it seems clear that the writer does not challenge slavery as an institution, yet the passage counters certain stereotypes about slaves. Rather than toadies or thieves, Ephesians treats slaves as responsible human beings, whose primary loyalty is to Christ. And the letter tells masters to treat their slaves in the same way. The idea of Jesus as lord over all things is reflected in the icons developed by the Eastern Orthodox churches, which often picture a majestic Christ enthroned.
From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)
Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation228 slave are Christians, Paul wants Philemon to receive Onesimus back “no longer as a slave but … as a beloved brother.” The idea here is that in community, people are not free to be autonomous because freedom takes the form of new relationship. Instead of relating to Onesimus as a slave, Philemon is to relate to him as a brother. ● Family ties were a principal source of identity and belonging in the ancient world. In addition, people were obliged to look out for the interests of others in their families, and they counted on family members for support. ● T o underscore the gravity of his message, Paul adds that Philemon is to welcome Onesimus as he would welcome Paul himself. And throughout the letter, Paul says that Philemon is his brother, too. Thus, Philemon should treat Onesimus and Paul in the same way. Paul concludes by saying he is confident that Philemon will do even more than he has asked. Ephesians If the perspective in Philemon is immediate and personal, the outlook in Ephesians is cosmic. It begins with an expansive statement of praise to God, whose grace unfolds throughout the ages. Chapter 1 says that before the world was even created, God developed a plan to bring salvation. And now, in the fullness of time, that plan was carried out through Jesus Christ and the church. A central concept in the letter is God’s desire to bring unity among all things in heaven and on earth in Jesus. In chapter 2, the writer relates the theme of unity to the divisions that had separated Jews and Gentiles. He says that Jews had citizenship in Israel, whereas Gentiles were foreigners or aliens to it. He compares the differences to a stone wall that divided the two groups. But the writer says that the wall of hostility has now been broken down. The Gentiles, who once were foreigners, can become citizens among the people of God. Ephesians considers the relationship of husbands and wives in chapter 5. Ancient writers frequently stressed the importance of harmony within marriage; at the same time, these writers generally assumed that the husband was the head of the household. ● Ephesians 5:21 reads, “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ,” making the relationship seem mutual. People are to be subject to