Tag: tenderness

The Morning Kiss

Recently I was a guest in a family. I witnessed a little conversation between the husband and his wife. It was in the morning. He was about to leave for work, she was still sitting at the breakfast table. She said, “You haven’t given me a kiss yet”. She said this without resentment. She was just reminding him. He kissed her immediately. It was nothing special, nothing extraordinary, not even worth mentioning. And yet: I realized how important this ritual was for them. This kind of ritual is important for each of us. To tell someone in the morning, I love you. To show it and tell him. And to receive the same gesture; to hear: I love you.

God has given us the gift and the ability of intimacy. It is a grace to be able to express our love to the other. The same is true for our relationship with God. How could our relationship with God, who has given us this gift, be different? We can express our love for Him in similar ways: a little morning prayer, a little “hello” to God, the kiss on the icon. Everyone has his or her own way.

When the soul receives a kiss from the Godhead, it stands in complete perfection and bliss. (Meister Eckhart, DW I,172-4.6)

Intimacy needs signs and gestures. The daily kiss does not have to be overly authentic. I can’t fully express what my innermost is every day. The ritual is important, the fact that I just do it. It has an effect. Its regularity as an effect. It is to remind me, God loves me. He loved me yesterday, He loves me today, and He will love me tomorrow. I want to hear that from Him every day. I need it. And I think he wants to hear it from me, too. We should not miss our “morning kiss” with Him. I should do it even if I don’t feel like it. Feelings change. His love remains.

He may kiss me with kisses of his mouth! Yes, your love is more beautiful than wine. (Song of Songs 1:2)

Lord, you asked Peter: Do you love me? You wanted to hear from his love. He answered, Yes, I love you; you know that I love you. I pray with his words: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Show me your love and tenderness, every day.

Tenderness and Authority

Christian de Chergé, Trappist monk of an Algerian monastery, described his friend with these words:

He loved me with the benevolent but inexorable authority of a father, and also with the indulgent and somewhat nervous tenderness of a mother.*

The qualities of this friend just resonated with me. How much I would love to be this way: to be tender like a mother. I remember this nervousness of an aunt of mine, as she journeyed with her daughters through the craziness of their puberty. It was pure expression of love. I very much feel attracted by the fatherly quality, too. Authority is a difficult thing nowadays. We hardly believe that authority can be benevolent. But still, we long for this rock who is gracious and at the same time inexorable.

Upon reflection, I realize how much these qualities were embodied in Jesus–when he cared for his friends after Lazarus died and when he talked to the sinners, the sick, and the outcast. You can see God’s tenderness for us at work. But there was also his authority. People said he was speaking with authority unlike the scribes. I see Jesus walking away as people try to stone him. His mission was inexorable. I see him announcing his suffering even when his disciples didn’t want to hear it. He would not waver from his call.

In the confusion of today’s gender discussion, we often forget about those good qualities of both a father and a mother. We don’t trust that we really can develop them as they are given to us by God. Moreover, we cannot imagine that both go together, the indulgent tenderness and the inexorable authority.

Lord, I need you. I need both the tender and the firm from you. I need your caress, your closeness, your compassion and love. And I need you as my rock, the one who is inexorable, who cannot be stopped, who cannot be moved, the one who is big enough that I can be straightened up by you and grow with you. I thank you for giving your life to me.

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* L’autre que nous attendons, 455. In: Christian Salenson, A Theology of Hope, 26. The context of this sentence does not indicate clearly of whom Fr. Christian is actually talking, whether of his Muslim friend Mohammed who saved his life during the Algerian war, or of Christ. He is definitely talking about a Christ-like quality. Fr. Christian, holding on to his monastic and Christian vocation, was kidnapped and murdered in 1996.