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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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Passages

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 The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

    My mother’s mortar was a beautiful affair, quite at variance with most of her other possessions, and certainly with her projected public view of herself. It had stood, solid and elegant, on a shelf in the kitchen cabinet for as long as I can remember, and I loved it dearly. The mortar was of a foreign fragrant wood, too dark for cherry and too red for walnut. To my child’s eyes, the outside was carved in an intricate and most enticing manner. There were rounded plums and oval indeterminate fruit, some long and fluted like a banana, others ovular and end-swollen like a ripe alligator pear. In between these were smaller rounded shapes like cherries, lying in batches against and around each other. I loved to finger the hard roundness of the carved fruit, and the always surprising termination of the shapes as the carvings stopped at the rim and the bowl sloped abruptly downward, smoothly oval but suddenly businesslike. The heavy sturdiness of this useful wooden object always made me feel secure and somehow full; as if it conjured up from all the many different flavors pounded into the inside wall, visions of delicious feasts both once enjoyed and still to come. The pestle was a slender tapering wand, fashioned from the same mysterious rose-deep wood, and fitted into the hand almost casually, familiarly. The actual shape reminded me of a summer crook-necked squash uncurled and slightly twisted. It could also have been an avocado, with the neck of the alligator pear elongated and the whole made businesslike and efficient for pounding, without ever losing the apparent soft firmness and the character of the fruit, which the wood suggested. It was slightly bigger at the grinding end than most pestles, and the widened curved end fitted into the bowl of the mortar easily. Long use and years of impact and grinding within the bowl’s worn hollow had softened the very surface of the wooden pestle until a thin layer of split fibers coated the rounded end like a layer of velvet. A layer of the same velvety mashed wood lined the bottom inside the sloping bowl. My mother did not particularly like to pound spice, and she looked upon the advent of powdered everything as a cook’s boon. But there were some certain dishes that called for a particular savory blending of garlic, raw onion, and pepper, and souse was one of them.

  • From My Life and Loves, Vol. 1 (of 4) (1922)

    Next door to us lived a doctor’s widow with two daughters, the eldest a medium-sized girl with large head and good grey eyes, hardly to be called pretty though all girls were pretty enough to excite me for the next ten years or more. This eldest girl was called Molly—a pet name for Maria. Her sister Kathleen was far more attractive physically: she was rather tall and slight, with a lithe grace of figure that was intensely provocative. Yet though I noted all Kathleen’s feline witchery, I fell prone for Molly. She seemed to me both intelligent and witty: she had read widely too and knew both French and German; she was as far above all the American girls I had met in knowledge of books and art as she was inferior to the best of them in bodily beauty. For the first time my mind was excited and interested and I thought I was in love and one late afternoon or early evening on Castle Hill I told her I loved her and we became engaged. Oh, the sweet folly of it all! When she asked me how we should live, what I intended to do, I had no answer ready save the perfect self-confidence of the man who had already proved himself in the struggle of life. Fortunately for me, that didn’t seem very convincing to her: she admitted that she was three years older than I was and if she had said four, she would have been nearer the truth, and she was quite certain I would not find it so easy to win in England as in America: she underrated both my brains and my strength of will. She confided to me that she had a hundred a year of her own: but that, of course, was wholly inadequate. So though she kissed me freely and allowed me a score of little privacies, she was resolved not to give herself completely. Her distrust of my ability and her delightfully piquant reserve heightened my passion and once I won her consent to an immediate marriage. At her best Molly was astonishingly intelligent and frank. One night alone together in our sitting-room which my father and sister left to us, I tried my best to get her to give herself to me. But she shook her head: “it would not be right, dear, till we are married”, she persisted. “Suppose we were on a desert island”, I said, “and no marriage possible?” “My darling!” she said kissing me on the mouth and laughing aloud, “don’t you know, I should yield then without your urging: you dear! I want you, Sir, perhaps more than you want me.” But she wore closed drawers and I didn’t know how to unbutton them at the sides and though she grew intensely and quickly excited, I could not break down the final barrier. In any case, before I could win, Fate used her shears decisively.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    O Holy Ghost, give me a great love of the Blood of Jesus: and give me also great confidence in it, and by it great peace and joy. Let that Blood cleanse me from all my sins, and make me pleasing to God and dear to Him. Let me drink of that Blood of Jesus, with desire and love, in this most Holy Sacrament. Sprinkle my soul more and more with this Blood, for it is the dew of the light. Though I have been slain by sin, though I have been dead in sin, let me rise and live again in Thee, O most Blessed Spirit. Thou, in Thy love, wilt give me back the years that the cankerworm and the caterpillar have destroyed. I wish to live every day more in the kingdom of God. That kingdom is justice and peace and joy in Thee, O Holy Ghost. Make me understand better the preciousness of the Blood of God, in its virginal spring, in its innocence, in its union with the Word. As the Soul of Jesus and the Body of Jesus are hypostatically joined to His Divine Person, so also is His Blood. Make me understand the greatness of the guilt which needed so great a price. O Blood of my Jesus, wash me and cleanse me and hallow me more and more. O Spirit of grace, from the slavery of the devil that Blood has brought me; into the kingdom of light that Blood has led me; a heritage of ceaseless joy that Blood has given me. I long to love it always, and always to love it more. O Holy Ghost, let my soul be steeped in the Blood of Jesus: let it be like a lily of the valley drenched with dew in the noontide sun. Now I am going to receive that Blood at the Altar. Jesus is offered now for me in the Sacrifice of the Mass, and yet dieth no more. Let me be drawn to Him, as the thief near His Cross was drawn to Him; and let me so love Him now, and so live by Him the hidden life in God, that He may remember me always till I see Him in His kingdom. XXVIII About the two other things to be noted with regard to the preciousness of the Blood of JesusA. (3) The third point to be chiefly noted about the preciousness of this Blood, as poured forth on the Cross, is the greatness of its might; and this is seen in three things: 1, in the destruction of the devil; 2, in the redemption of the world; 3, in reconciliation with God.

  • From Giovanni's Room (1956)

    GIOVANNI'S ROOM 109 tainlynot the Englishmelodrama you make it. Why, that way, life wouldsimply beunbearable/ He pouredmorecognac andgrinned at me, as thoughhehadsolvedallmyproblems. And therewas something so artlessinthis smile that I had to smile back.Giovanniliked tobelieve thathe was hard-headed and that I wasnot and thathewas teaching methe stony facts oflife. It was veryimportantfor him to feel this: it was becausehe knew, unwillingly,at thevery bottomofhis heart, thatI, helplessly, at the verybottom of mine, resistedhimwith allmy strength. Eventually wegrew still, we fell silent, and we slept. Weawoke aroundthreeor four in the afternoon, when the dullsun was prying at odd comers of theclutteredroom. We arose and washedand shaved, bumpinginto each otherandmakingjokes and furiouswith the imstated desire to escapetheroom.Then we dancedoutintothestreets, into Paris,andate quicklysomewhere, and Ileft Giovanni at the doorto Guillaume's bar. ThenI,alone,andrelieved tobe alone, per- haps wentto a movie, or walked,orreturned home andread, or sat in a park andread, or sat onacafeterrace,or talkedtopeople, or wrote letters. Iwrote toHella,telling hernoth- ing, orI wrote tomy father asking formoney. Andno matter what I wasdoing,another me sat inmybelly, absolutely coldwithterror over the question ofmylife. Giovannihad awakened an itch, had released 110 James Baldwin agnaw in me.Irealized itone afternoon,when I was takinghim to workviathe Boulevard Montparnasse. We hadboughtakilo ofcherries andwe wereeatingthem as we walked along. We werebothinsufferablychildishand high- spirited that afternoon andthe spectacle we presented, twogrown menjostling eachother on thewidesidewalk and aiming thecherry pits,asthough they were spitballs, into each other's faces, must havebeen outrageous. And I reaUzedthatsuch childishnesswasfantastic at myageandthehappinessout ofwhich it sprangyet more so; forthatmoment Ireally loved Giovanni, who hadneverseemed more beautiful than hewas thatafternoon. And, watchinghis face,I realizedthatit meant much to methat I could makehis face sobright. I saw that I might be willingtogive agreat deal nottolosethat power. AndIfelt myself flow towardhim, asa river rusheswhen the ice breaks up. Yet, at that very moment, there passed betweenus on the pavement another boy,a stranger, and I invested himat oncewith Giovanni'sbeauty and whatIfelt for Giovanni I alsofeltforhim.Giovanni saw thisand saw my faceand itmade himlaugh the more. I blushedand he keptlaughing and thenthe boulevard, the light,thesound ofhis laughter turnedinto a scenefrom a nightmare. Ikept looking at thetrees,thelight falling through the leaves.Ifeltsorrow and shame andpanic and great bitterness. At thesame time — itwas GIOVANNrS ROOM 111 partof my turmoilandalsooutsideit— I felt the muscles in myneck tighten with the effort I was making nottoturn myheadand watch that boy diminish down thebrightavenue. The beast which Giovannihad awakened in me would never go tosleep again;butone day I would notbe withGiovanni anymore. And would I then, like all the others, find myself turning and followingall kinds ofboysdown God knows what dark avenues, intowhatdark places? With this fearful intimation thereopened inmea hatredfor Giovanni which was as powerful asmy love andwhich was nourished by the same roots.

  • From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

    He tells them that they have shared in his imprisonment and in his defence of the gospel (r:7). He tells them not to fear their adversaries, for they are going through what he himself has gone through and is now enduring (r:28-30). True Friendship There had grown up between Paul and the Philippian church a bond of friendship closer than that which existed between him and any other church. It was his proud boast that he had never taken help from any individual or from any church, and that, with his own two hands, he had provided for his needs. It was from the Philippians alone that he had agreed to accept a gift. Soon after he left them and moved on to Thessalonica, they sent him a present (4:16). When he moved on and arrived in Corinth by way of Athens, once again they were the only ones who remembered him with their gifts (2 Corinthians 11:9). `My brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for,' he calls them, `my joy and crown ... in the Lord' (4:1). The Reasons for Writing the Letter When Paul wrote this letter, he was in prison in Rome, and he wrote it with certain definite aims. (i) It is a letter of thanks. The years have passed; it is now AD 63 or 64, and once again the Philippians have sent him a gift (4:10-I I). (2) It has to do with Epaphroditus. It seems that the Philippians had sent him not only as a bearer of their gift, but that he might stay with Paul and be his personal servant. But Epaphroditus had become ill. He was homesick, and he was worried because he knew that the people at home were worried about him. Paul sent him home; but he had the unhappy feeling that the people in Philippi might think of Epaphroditus as a quitter, so he goes out of his way to give him a testimonial: `Welcome him then in the Lord with all joy, and honour such people, because he came close to death for the work of Christ' (2:29- 30). There is something very moving in the sight of Paul, himself in prison and awaiting death, seeking to make things easier for Epaphroditus, when he was unexpectedly and unwillingly compelled to go home. Here is the height of Christian courtesy. (3) It is a letter of encouragement to the Philippians in the trials which they are going through (r:28-30). (4) It is an appeal for unity, from which rises the great passage which speaks of the selfless humility of Jesus Christ (2:1-r r). In the church at Philippi, there were two women who had quarrelled and were endangering the peace (4:2); and there were false teachers who were seeking to lure the Philippians from the true path (3:2).

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    The precept to love our neighbour as ourselves teaches us, fourthly, that our love of our neighbour must be practical and fruitful. Men love themselves, not only by wishing good to befall them, and by desiring protection from-evil; but also, by endeavouring, by all means in their power, to procure prosperity for themselves, and to defend themselves from adversity. Hence, when a man truly loves another as himself, he will show his love not only by good wishes, but by practical benefits. He will obey the teaching of St. John (1 Jn. iii. 18), “My little children, let us not love in word, nor in tongue, but in deed and in truth.” CHAPTER XIV The Perfection of Love of Our Neighbour Considered As A Matter of CounselWE devoted the last chapter to the consideration of the perfection of brotherly love, as exhibited in the degree necessary to salvation. We will now treat of the same virtue, as manifested in a degree exceeding common perfection, and thus forming a matter of counsel. This perfection of fraternal charity may be regarded from a triple point of view. First we may consider its comprehensiveness; for love is perfect in proportion to the number of persons whom it includes. Now there are three degrees in the comprehensiveness of charity. Some men love their neighbours, either on account of the benefits they receive from them, or by reason of some tie of blood or of social life. This love is bounded by the limits of human friendship, and of it our Lord says, “It you love those who love you, what reward shall you have? do not even the publicans this? And if you salute your brethren only, what do you more? Do not even the heathens this?” (Matt. v. 46). Others, again, include strangers in their charity, as long as they meet with nothing in these strangers antipathetic to themselves. This degree of charity is limited by natural feeling; for as all men form one species, each individual man is by nature the friend of all others. Thus, it is natural to us to put one who has lost his way on the right road, to help a man who has fallen down, and to perform similar kindly offices. As, however, we naturally prefer ourselves to others, it follows, that we shall love one thing and hate what is opposed to it. Therefore a merely natural love never includes the love of our enemies. But the third degree of charity is the love extended even to our enemies. Speaking of this love, our Lord says (Matt. v. 44), “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.”He shows that this love constitutes the perfection of charity, by concluding His instruction with the words, “Be, therefore, perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect.”

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    (3) Thirdly, there is the good that comes to us from bearing Jesus in mind, and that is to be considered in three ways: 1. The remembrance of the first thing, that is, our Lord’s Passion, kindles our hearts with love. 2. The remembrance of the second thing, that is, our Lord’s knowledge and watchfulness, keeps us from sin. 3. The remembrance of the third thing, that is, the judgment of the Son of man, makes us ready for His coming. By the first we love what is good; by the second we hate what is evil; by the third we guard against the wrath to come. 1. Hardly can we help loving much if we think of the Passion of Jesus. St. Bernard says, ‘O good Jesus, that which endears Thee to me above all things is the chalice which Thou didst drink, that is, the work of my redemption.’ ‘The viler that my Lord was made for me, the dearer He is made to me.’ 2. If we would always think of our Lord present, and seeing all things, and always judging us, hardly ever, or even never, would we sin. Boetius says, ‘A great necessity of good living is laid upon us, when we do everything before the eyes of the Judge from whom nothing is hid.’ 3. We have to be ready for the third day. Our first day is the day of our birth; our second day is the day of our life; our third day is the day of our death or of the judgment. N. In preparing for the judgment we must be careful to think about: a, the manner; b, watchfulness, not to share the punishment of the unprepared; c, the gain of entering into eternal life with those that are ready. a. We must make ourselves ready for the day of the Lord, by keeping from sin and by doing penance. b. We must be very careful not to follow others into sin, nor to share their forgetfulness of God. c. We must set great store on that life of blessedness which the servants of God enjoy for ever in His kingdom. R. Consider the greatness of the reward, if you are ready; you have: a, the possession of Heaven; b, the company of the beloved Spouse; c, the delights of the fulness of all good. a. They entered the Heavenly City. b. They entered it with Him, that is, with Jesus their Spouse. c. They went in to the everlasting Bridal. The Voice of the Holy Ghost (1) About the threefold evil of forgetting God; 1. The loss of grace; Thou hast forsaken the God that made thee, and hast forgotten the God that created thee. Deut. 32:18. I will hide My face from them … for it is a perverse generation and unfaithful children. Deut. 32:20.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    It is proper to a habit to incline a power to act, and this belongs to a habit, in so far as it makes whatever is suitable to it, to seem good, and whatever is unsuitable, to seem evil. For as the taste judges of savors according to its disposition, even so does the human mind judge of things to be done, according to its habitual disposition. Hence the Philosopher says (Ethic. iii, 5) that “such as a man is, so does the end appear to him.” Accordingly charity is inseparable from its possessor, where that which pertains to charity cannot appear otherwise than good, and that is in heaven, where God is seen in His Essence, which is the very essence of goodness. Therefore the charity of heaven cannot be lost, whereas the charity of the way can, because in this state God is not seen in His Essence, which is the essence of goodness. Reply to Objection 1: The passage quoted speaks from the point of view of the power of the Holy Ghost, by Whose safeguarding, those whom He wills to move are rendered immune from sin, as much as He wills. Reply to Objection 2: The charity which can fail by reason of itself is no true charity; for this would be the case, were its love given only for a time, and afterwards were to cease, which would be inconsistent with true love. If, however, charity be lost through the changeableness of the subject, and against the purpose of charity included in its act, this is not contrary to true charity. Reply to Objection 3: The love of God ever works great things in its purpose, which is essential to charity; but it does not always work great things in its act, on account of the condition of its subject. Reply to Objection 4: Charity by reason of its act excludes every motive for sinning. But it happens sometimes that charity is not acting actually, and then it is possible for a motive to intervene for sinning, and if we consent to this motive, we lose charity. Whether charity is lost through one mortal sin?Objection 1: It would seem that charity is not lost through one mortal sin. For Origen says (Peri Archon i): “When a man who has mounted to the stage of perfection, is satiated, I do not think that he will become empty or fall away suddenly; but he must needs do so gradually and by little and little.” But man falls away by losing charity. Therefore charity is not lost through only one mortal sin.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Now no act is perfectly produced by an active power, unless it be connatural to that power of reason of some form which is the principle of that action. Wherefore God, Who moves all things to their due ends, bestowed on each thing the form whereby it is inclined to the end appointed to it by Him; and in this way He “ordereth all things sweetly” (Wis. 8:1). But it is evident that the act of charity surpasses the nature of the power of the will, so that, therefore, unless some form be superadded to the natural power, inclining it to the act of love, this same act would be less perfect than the natural acts and the acts of the other powers; nor would it be easy and pleasurable to perform. And this is evidently untrue, since no virtue has such a strong inclination to its act as charity has, nor does any virtue perform its act with so great pleasure. Therefore it is most necessary that, for us to perform the act of charity, there should be in us some habitual form superadded to the natural power, inclining that power to the act of charity, and causing it to act with ease and pleasure. Reply to Objection 1: The Divine Essence Itself is charity, even as It is wisdom and goodness. Wherefore just as we are said to be good with the goodness which is God, and wise with the wisdom which is God (since the goodness whereby we are formally good is a participation of Divine goodness, and the wisdom whereby we are formally wise, is a share of Divine wisdom), so too, the charity whereby formally we love our neighbor is a participation of Divine charity. For this manner of speaking is common among the Platonists, with whose doctrines Augustine was imbued; and the lack of adverting to this has been to some an occasion of error. Reply to Objection 2: God is effectively the life both of the soul by charity, and of the body by the soul: but formally charity is the life of the soul, even as the soul is the life of the body. Consequently we may conclude from this that just as the soul is immediately united to the body, so is charity to the soul. Reply to Objection 3: Charity works formally. Now the efficacy of a form depends on the power of the agent, who instills the form, wherefore it is evident that charity is not vanity. But because it produces an infinite effect, since, by justifying the soul, it unites it to God, this proves the infinity of the Divine power, which is the author of charity.

  • From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

    Frances, Beth and Jonathan, Helen, Blanche and Clare, our loving circle. I hold now to what I know and have always known in my heart ever since I first knew what loving was—that when it truly exists it is the most potent and lasting force in life, even if certainly not the fastest. But without it nothing else is worth a damn. After Frances went back to the hotel I washed my hair (wishing I had some white flowers to put in the water for a blessing), listened to Bob Marley, and went to bed. January 1, 1986 Arlesheim Today Frances and I hiked to the top of a mountain to see the Dornach ruins, and the whole Rhine valley spread out beneath us. It felt so good to be moving my body again. My mother always used to say that whatever you do on New Year’s Day you will do all year round, and I’d certainly like to believe that’s true. It was very cold and sunny and bright, three miles up and back. The ruins rang with that historical echo and the presence of trials labored and past, although not as profoundly as the stones of El Morro in Cuba, and certainly not as desperately as the walls of Elmina Castle in Ghana, from whence so many Black women and children and men were sent to hell—slavery. February 20, 1986 Anguilla, British West Indies I am here seeking sun on my bones. A dry little island with outlandishly beautiful beaches, and soft-voiced West Indian people living their lives by the sea. Anguilla’s primary source of income is from import duties, second comes fishing. I go out at dawn to see the fishermen put out from Crocus Bay, and when they return they sometimes give Gloria and me fish. An intricate network of ownership and shares governs the dividing up of each catch. Fossilized sand dollars wash out of the sand banks onto the beaches of Anguilla and out of the claystone bluffs that grade downward toward the beach. I spend hours wandering the beaches and searching for them, or collecting shells that I rinse at the water’s green edge. I would never have known about this island except for Gloria. Anguilla feels like a piece of home, a very healing, restful place, but with the rich essences of life. The sun and the sea here are helping me save my life. They are a far softer cry from the East River, Spuyten Duyvil, and the lower New York Bay.

  • From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

    Portrait Strong women know the taste of their own hatred I must always be building nests in a windy place I want the safety of oblique numbers that do not include me a beautiful woman with ugly moments secret and patient as the amused and ponderous elephants catering to Hannibal’s ambition as they swayed on their own way home. Therapy Trying to see you my eyes grow confused it is not your face they are seeking fingering through your spaces like a hungry child even now I do not want to make a poem I want to make you more and less a part from my self. Recreation Coming together it is easier to work after our bodies meet paper and pen neither care nor profit whether we write or not but as your body moves under my hands charged and waiting we cut the leash you create me against your thighs hilly with images moving through our word countries my body writes into your flesh the poem you make of me. Touching you I catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat I love you flesh into blossom I made you and take you made into me.

  • From Paul and Palestinian Judaism (40th Anniversary Edition) (2017)

    But God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we are now justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. (Rom. 5.6-9) 45 It is not clear, however, that all the references to Christ's dying 'for us' should be taken as referring to his sacrificial death for past transgressions, as is usually the case. 46 On the contrary, Paul often gives quite a different significance to the death of Christ. Thus II Cor. 5. 1.if.: For the love of Christ controls us, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, that those who live might live no longer for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised. Here the significance of Christ's death 'for all', hyper panton, is not pri- marily that it is expiatory. We note here the ease with which Paul uses categories of participation to explain his meaning: 'therefore all have died', not 'therefore all have had their sins expiated'. It is true that in 5.19 Paul 43 For the problems, details and history of exegesis of this much discussed passage, see Lohse, Martyrer und Gotteslenecht, pp. 147-54; Davies, Paul and Rabbinic Judaism, pp. 237-42; Whiteley, Theology of St Paul, pp. 145f.; W. G. Kiimmel, 'ficipecnc; and £voe1~l(;. A Contribution to the Understanding of the Pauline Doctrine of Justilication',Journalfor Theology and the Church 3, 1967, pp. 1-13 ( = ZT K 49, 1952, pp. 154-67); J. Reumann, 'The Gospel of the Righteousness of God', Interpre- tation 20, 1966, pp. 432-52; C.H. Talbert, 'A Non-Pauline Fragment at Romans 3.24-26?',JBL 85, 1966, pp. 287-96; George Howard, 'Romans 3.21-31 and the Inclusion of the Gentiles', HTR 63, 1970, pp. 223-33. Whatever the precise meaning of hilasterion, and whatever decision one makes on the difficult syntax, I take the passage to refer to atonement for the past transgressions of all by Christ's death and the shedding of blood. This agrees with Howard's conclusion (p. 233): 'The intricate details of the inner workings of the atonement remain obscure in this passage. Paul does not explain himsel( However, the thrust of the passage as well as Paul's use of the atonement section is clear. The entirety of the context argues for the inclusion of the Gentiles into the kingdom of God.' This view supposes that, even if Paul is using a traditional formulation, he is using it. 44 Lohse (Martyrer und Gotteslenecht, pp. 147-9) takes I Cor. 15.3 and Rom. 4.25 to be the principal passages in which Paul quotes traditional formulas on the death of Christ. On formulas and Paul's use of them cf. also Kiisemann, 'The Saving Significance of the Death of Jesus in Paul', Perspectives, pp. 39( 43 C( Davies, Paul and Rabbinic Judaism, p. 234: in Rom. 5.8-10 the death and blood of Christ have a backward look. 46 Bultmann, Theology l, p.

  • From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

    I cannot bear to think that this might be my last New Year’s Eve. But it might be. What a bummer! But if that’s true at least I have had others which were sweet and full past comparing, and filled with enough love and promise to last forever and beyond me. Frances, Beth and Jonathan, Helen, Blanche and Clare, our loving circle. I hold now to what I know and have always known in my heart ever since I first knew what loving was—that when it truly exists it is the most potent and lasting force in life, even if certainly not the fastest. But without it nothing else is worth a damn. After Frances went back to the hotel I washed my hair (wishing I had some white flowers to put in the water for a blessing), listened to Bob Marley, and went to bed. January 1, 1986 Arlesheim Today Frances and I hiked to the top of a mountain to see the Dornach ruins, and the whole Rhine valley spread out beneath us. It felt so good to be moving my body again. My mother always used to say that whatever you do on New Year’s Day you will do all year round, and I’d certainly like to believe that’s true. It was very cold and sunny and bright, three miles up and back. The ruins rang with that historical echo and the presence of trials labored and past, although not as profoundly as the stones of El Morro in Cuba, and certainly not as desperately as the walls of Elmina Castle in Ghana, from whence so many Black women and children and men were sent to hell—slavery. February 20, 1986 Anguilla, British West Indies I am here seeking sun on my bones. A dry little island with outlandishly beautiful beaches, and soft-voiced West Indian people living their lives by the sea. Anguilla’s primary source of income is from import duties, second comes fishing. I go out at dawn to see the fishermen put out from Crocus Bay, and when they return they sometimes give Gloria and me fish. An intricate network of ownership and shares governs the dividing up of each catch. Fossilized sand dollars wash out of the sand banks onto the beaches of Anguilla and out of the claystone bluffs that grade downward toward the beach. I spend hours wandering the beaches and searching for them, or collecting shells that I rinse at the water’s green edge. I would never have known about this island except for Gloria. Anguilla feels like a piece of home, a very healing, restful place, but with the rich essences of life.

  • From Heptaméron (1559)

    Having now been more than fourteen months privily making all necessary arrangements previous to her tak- ing the veil, she one morning asked leave of the mar- chioness to go to hear mass at the convent of St. Claire. Her mistress granted this request without knowing why it was preferred. Calling at the Franciscan monastery on her way, Pauline begged the warden to let her see her lover, whom she called her relation. She saw him in private, in a chapel, and said to him, " If I could with honour have retired to the cloister as soon as you, I should have been there long ago. But now that by my patience I have prevented the remarks of those who put a bad construction upon everything rather than a good one, I am resolved to renounce the world, and adopt the order, habit, and life which you have chosen. If you fare well, iSa THE HEPTAMEKON OF THE {^iVavel 19. I shall have my part ; and if you fare ill, 1 do not wish to be exempt. I desire to go to Paradise by the same road as you, being assured that the Being who is su- premely perfect, and alone worthy to be called Love, has drawn us to his service by means of an innocent and reasonable affection, which He will convert entirely to himself through His Holy Spirit. Let us both forget this perishing body, which is of the old Adam, to receive and put on that of Jesus Christ, who is our spirit." fl The cowled lover wept with joy to hear her express I such a holy desire, and did his utmost to confirm it. *' Since I can never hope for more than the satisfaction of seeing you," he said, " I esteem it a great blessing that I am in a place where I may always have oppor- tunity to see you. Our conversations will be such that we shall both be the better for them, loving as we shall do with one love, one heart, one mind, led by the good • ness of God, whom I pray to hold us in His good hands, in which no one perishes." So saying, and weeping with love and joy, he kissed her hands ; but she stooped her face as low as her hand, and they exchanged the kiss of love in true charity.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Of the Third Means of Perfection, Namely, the Abnegation of Our Own WillIT is not only necessary for the perfection of charity that a man should sacrifice his exterior possessions: he must also, in a certain sense, relinquish himself. Dionysius, in Chapter IV. De Divinis Nominibus, says that, “divine love causes a man to be out of himself, meaning thereby, that this love suffers him no longer to belong to himself but to Him whom he loves.”St. Paul, writing to the Galatians (ii. 20), illustrates this state by his own example, saying, “I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me,” as if he did not count his life as his own, but as belonging to Christ, and as if he spurned all that he possessed, in order to cleave to Him. He further shows that this state reaches perfection in certain souls; for he says to the Colossians (iii. 3), “For you are dead, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”Again, he exhorts others to the same sublimity of love, in his second Epistle to the Corinthians (v. 15), “And Christ died for all, that they also who live, may not now live to themselves, but unto Him who died for them, and rose again.” Therefore, when our Lord had said (Luke xiv. 26), “If any man comes to me, and does not hate his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters,” He added something greater than all these, saying, “yes, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple.” He teaches the same thing in the Gospel of St. Matthew (xvi. 24) when He says, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.” This practice of salutary self-abnegation, and charitable self-hatred, is, in part, necessary for all men in order to salvation, and is, partly, a point of perfection. As we have already seen from the words of Dionysius quoted above, it is in the nature of divine love that he who loves should belong, not to himself, but, to the one beloved. It is necessary, therefore, that self-abnegation and self-hatred be proportionate to the degree of divine love existing in an individual soul. It is essential to salvation that a man should love God to such a degree, as to make Him his end, and to do nothing which be believes to be opposed to the Divine love. Consequently, self-hatred and self-denial are necessary for salvation. Hence St. Gregory says, in his Homily, “We relinquish and deny ourselves when we avoid what we were wont (through the old man dwelling in us) to be, and when we strive after that to which (by the new man) we are called.” In another Homily he, likewise, says, “We hate our own life when we do not condescend to carnal desires, but resist the appetites and pleasures of the flesh.”

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    AUGUSTINE. (Serm. 71, 12, 21) Or else impenitence itself is the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost which hath no remission. For either in his thought or by his tongue, he speaks a word against the Holy Ghost the forgiver of sins, who treasures up for himself an impenitent heart. But he subjoins, Because they said, He hath an unclean spirit, that he might shew that His reason for saying it, was their declaring that He cast out a devil by Beelzebub, not because there is a blasphemy, which cannot be remitted since even this might be remitted through a right repentance: but the cause why this sentence was put forth by the Lord, after mentioning the unclean spirit, (who as our Lord shews was divided against himself,) was, that the Holy Ghost even makes those whom He brings together undivided, by His remitting those sins, which divided them from Himself, which gift of remission is resisted by no one, but him who has the hardness of an impenitent heart. For in another place, the Jews said of the Lord, that He had a devil, (John 7:20.) without however His saying any thing there about the blasphemy against the Spirit; and the reason is, that they did not there cast in His teeth the unclean spirit, in such a way, that that spirit could by their own words be shewn to be divided against Himself, as Beelzebub was here shewn to be, by their saying, that it might be he who cast out devilso. 3:31–3531. There came then his brethren and his mother, and, standing without, sent unto him, calling him. 32. And the multitude sat about him, and they said unto him, Behold, thy mother and thy brethren without seek for thee. 33. And he answered them, saying, Who is my mother, or my brethren? 34. And he looked round about on them which sat about him, and said, Behold my mother and my brethren! 35. For whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sister, and mother. THEOPHYLACT. Because the relations of the Lord had come to seize upon Him, as if beside Himself, His mother, urged by the sympathy of her love, came to Him; wherefore it is said, And there came unto him his mother, and, standing without, sent unto him, calling him. CHRYSOSTOM. (non occ.) From this it is manifest that His brethren and His mother were not always with Him; but because He was beloved by them, they come from reverence and affection, waiting without. Wherefore it goes on, And the multitude sat about him, &c. BEDE. (ubi sup.) The brothers of the Lord must not be thought to be the sons of the ever-virgin Mary, as Helvidius sayp, nor the sons of Joseph by a former marriage, as some think, but rather they must be understood to be His relations.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    AUGUSTINE. (Tr. lv. 2) He loved them unto the end, i. e. that they themselves too might pass out of this worlda, by love, unto Him their head. For what is unto the end, but unto Christ? (Rom. 10:4) For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth. But these words may be understood after a human sort, to mean that Christ loved His own up to His death. But God forbid that He should end His love by death, who is not ended by death: except indeed we understand it thus: He loved His own unto death: i. e. His love for them led Him to death. And supper having been made, i. e. having been got ready, and laid on the table before them; not having been consumed and finished: for it was during supper that He rose, and washed His disciples’ feet; as after this He sat at table again, and gave the sop to the traitor. What follows: The devil having now put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son, to betray Him, refers to a secret suggestion, not made to the ear, but to the mind; the suggestions of the devil being part of our own thoughts. Judas then had already conceived, through diabolical instigation, the intention of betraying his Master. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxx. 1) The Evangelist inserts this as if in astonishment: our Lord being about to wash the feet of the very person who had resolved to betray Him. It shews the great wickedness too of the traitor, that even the partaking of the same table, which is a check to the worst of men, did not stop him. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. lv. 6) The Evangelist being about to relate so great an instance of our Lord’s humility, reminds us first of His lofty nature: knowing that the Father had given all things into His hand, not excepting the traitor. GREGORY. He knew that He had even His persecutors in His hand that He might convert them from malice to love of Him. ORIGEN. (t. xxxiv. 3) The Father hath given all things into His hands; i. e. into His power; for His hands hold all thingsb: or to Him, for His work; My Father worketh hitherto, and I work. (John 5:17) CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxx. 1) Had given all things into His hand. What is given Him is the salvation of the believers. Think not of this giving up in a human way. It signifies His honour for, and agreement with, the Father. For as the Father hath given up all things to Him, so hath He given up all things to the Father. (1 Cor. 15:24) When He shall have delivered up the kingdom to God, even the Father. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. lv. 5) Knowing too, that He was come from God, and went to God; not that He left God when He came, or will leave us when He returns.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Whether hope is distinct from the other theological virtues?Objection 1: It would seem that hope is not distinct from the other theological virtues. For habits are distinguished by their objects, as stated above ([2440]FS, Q[54], A[2]). Now the object of hope is the same as of the other theological virtues. Therefore hope is not distinct from the other theological virtues. Objection 2: Further, in the symbol of faith, whereby we make profession of faith, we say: “I expect the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.” Now expectation of future happiness belongs to hope, as stated above [2441](A[5]). Therefore hope is not distinct from faith. Objection 3: Further, by hope man tends to God. But this belongs properly to charity. Therefore hope is not distinct from charity. On the contrary, There cannot be number without distinction. Now hope is numbered with the other theological virtues: for Gregory says (Moral. i, 16) that the three virtues are faith, hope, and charity. Therefore hope is distinct from the theological virtues. I answer that, A virtue is said to be theological from having God for the object to which it adheres. Now one may adhere to a thing in two ways: first, for its own sake; secondly, because something else is attained thereby. Accordingly charity makes us adhere to God for His own sake, uniting our minds to God by the emotion of love. On the other hand, hope and faith make man adhere to God as to a principle wherefrom certain things accrue to us. Now we derive from God both knowledge of truth and the attainment of perfect goodness. Accordingly faith makes us adhere to God, as the source whence we derive the knowledge of truth, since we believe that what God tells us is true: while hope makes us adhere to God, as the source whence we derive perfect goodness, i.e. in so far as, by hope, we trust to the Divine assistance for obtaining happiness. Reply to Objection 1: God is the object of these virtues under different aspects, as stated above: and a different aspect of the object suffices for the distinction of habits, as stated above ([2442]FS, Q[54], A[2]). Reply to Objection 2: Expectation is mentioned in the symbol of faith, not as though it were the proper act of faith, but because the act of hope presupposes the act of faith, as we shall state further on [2443](A[7]). Hence an act of faith is expressed in the act of hope. Reply to Objection 3: Hope makes us tend to God, as to a good to be obtained finally, and as to a helper strong to assist: whereas charity, properly speaking, makes us tend to God, by uniting our affections to Him, so that we live, not for ourselves, but for God.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxii. 3) And therefore He said, little children; for He did not mean to speak to them, as He had to the Jews. Ye cannot follow Me now, He says, in order to rouse the love of His disciples. For the departure of loved friends kindles all our affection, and especially if they are going to a place where we cannot follow them. He purposely too speaks of His death, as a kind of translation, a happy removal to a place, where mortal bodies do not enter. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. lxv. 1) And now He teaches them how to fit themselves to follow Him: A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another. (Levit. 19:18) But does not the old law say, Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself? Why then does He call it a new commandment? Is it because it strips us of the old man, and puts on us the new? That it renews the hearer, or rather the doer of it? Love does do this; but it is that love which our Lord distinguishes from the carnal affection: As I have loved you, that ye also love one another. Not the love with which men love one another, but that of the children of the Most High God, who would be brethren of His only-begotten Son, and therefore love one another with that love with which He loved them, and would lead them to the fulfilment of their desires. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxii. 3) Or, as I have loved you: for My love has not been the payment of something owing to you, but had its beginning on My side. And ye ought in like manner to do one another good, though ye may not owe it. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. lxiv. 2) But do not think that that greater commandment, viz. that we should love the Lord our God, is passed by. For, if we understand the two precepts aright, each is implied in the other. He who loves God cannot despise His commandment that he should love his neighbour; and he who loves his neighbour in a heavenly spiritual way, in the neighbour loves God. That is the love which our Lord distinguishes from all human love, when He adds, As I have loved you. For what did He, in loving us, love, but God in us; not who was in us, but so that He might be? Wherefore let each of us so love the other, as that by this working of love, we make each other the habitations of God. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxii. 4) Passing over the miracles, which they were to perform, He makes love the distinguishing mark of His followers; By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another. This it is that evidences the saint or the disciple, as He calls him.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Man’s spirit is carried up to God in two ways: by God Himself, and by some other thing. It is borne up to God by God Himself when God is seen in Himself and is loved for Himself. It is raised up by something else when the soul is elevated to God by His creatures, according to Romans 1:20: “The invisible things of Him... are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made.” Perfect beatitude cannot consist in a person’s movement toward God through the agency of something else. For, first, since beatitude denotes the ultimate term of all human actions, true and perfect happiness cannot be found in that which is of the nature of change in the direction of the end rather than of a final term. Knowledge and love of God through the medium of something other than God is brought about by a certain movement of the human mind, as it advances through one stage to another. True and perfect beatitude, therefore, is not discovered in this process. Secondly, if man’s beatitude consists in the adhering of the human mind to God, perfect beatitude must require a perfect adhering to God. But the human mind cannot adhere perfectly to God through the medium of any creature, whether by way of knowledge or by way of love. All created forms fall infinitely short of representing the divine essence. Objects pertaining to a higher order of being cannot be known through a form belonging to a lower order. For example, a spiritual substance cannot be known through a body, and a heavenly body cannot be known through one of the elements. Much less can the essence of God be known through any created form. Yet, just as we gain a negative insight into higher bodies from a study of lower bodies, thus learning, for instance, that they are neither heavy nor light, and just as we conceive a negative idea about ange’ls from a consideration of bodies, judging that they are immaterial or incorporeal, so by examining creatures we come to know, not what God is, but rather what He is not. Likewise, any goodness possessed by a creature is a definite minimum in comparison with the divine goodness, which is infinite goodness. Hence the various degrees of goodness emanating from God and discerned in things, which are benefits bestowed by God, fail to raise the mind to a perfect love of God. Therefore true and perfect beatitude cannot consist in the adherence of the mind to God through some alien medium.

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