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To turn a phrase from the great blues artist Albert King, "if it wasn't for bad news, there wouldn't be no news at all."
A friend recently confided in me that she never watches the news because it makes her feel frightened and hopeless. The world is so full of violence and hate, and she can't bear the sight of one more mass shooting or suffering animal or school bombing (she is a teacher).
It's hard to find a silver lining inside the stormy clouds of the modern world. It's hard to believe in Abraham Lincoln’s appeal to the "better angels of our nature" when the division among Americans seems to rival that of the Civil War era. Most of all, it's hard to speak of love when there is so much hate all around us.
So this essay is about love, and the different manifestations of this most important human virtue.
There are all kinds of Love. We tend to get stuck in the romantic aspect of it, the kind of love that pervades the lyric of pop songs in which the singer/speaker is either celebrating or lamenting some personal relationship. They expose burning desires about wanting someone, or needing someone, or losing or can't-live-without someone. There also has been a trend promoting the theme of self-love. With all due respect to the massively talented Whitney Houston, although learning to love oneself is important, it is not the greatest love of all.
Family is the first (and most familiar) kind of love. We sense a duty, a responsibility to those in our bloodline. We accept that this is not a matter of choice, but an innate, biological connection. Family members often go to great lengths to defend, forgive, or extol each other. Yet when we look at our kinfolk, it's kind of like looking in a mirror. We see ourselves reflected there. It is love, yes, but it's not the greatest love of all.
Extended family love goes beyond bloodline. Members are often called upon to accept others who may be different, whose values and habits are contrary, or who represent an unfamiliar culture. Often it seems as if we are facing a bridge too far, and there is no going forward. Our sense of humanity is challenged, and it takes a greater love to step onto that bridge. Yet it is not the greatest love of all.
There is also the love of country. Here, in America, ever since the terrible tragedy of the Civil War, we have managed to remain a united body of independent states, however tenuous that bond may now seem. Our sense of freedom and national pride is inextricably bound to the ideals of the Constitution, which was meticulously designed to prevent despotism and preserve faith in man's inherent goodness and willingness to compromise. In America today, mutual respect and recognition of common interests are extremely challenging, and only great love of our country will help us through these times of trouble. But it still is not the greatest love of all.
We share more than a country. We must coexist on this great blue orb that spins through the universe and is now changing rapidly. The coexistence is not just about humans. It's about the love of all life on earth. It's about understanding the environment and its ecosystems. It's about the precious nature of water, and the atmosphere that shields us from the sun's poisonous rays. And of course, it's about animals, especially our pets. Our unconditional love of pets brings out the best of our nature. But it still is not the greatest love of all.
So what is the greatest love of all? I certainly don't know the answer, though I suspect I will some day. I imagine it will become clear at the end, for me and for anyone else who has tried hard to lead a good life, and who has loved more than her/himself. I imagine that my last breath in this world -- the very last nanosecond of my final exhale -- will be the unveiling of the Greatest Love of all. It might be something like a horizon beyond a sea of infinite colors, or a choir of herald angels. There might be the appearance of a familiar face I've never seen before. A beautiful, momentary vision that I will carry with me forever as I embark on a new journey.
Pete Howard, author of the novel Rosebud Dreamworld, lives in Dunkirk.