What's love unless it's unconditional? (title probably only appreciated by two people reading this)

We all use each other and that's what we think of as love, and not being able to use each other is what's hate.
--Tennessee Williams

First of all, I resent that I'm starting an entry with this quote. I wish that I could let things lie and be at peace with them, but no. Never. I first really became aware of this quote in one of my classes last semester. Our job was to grapple with this quote for a good chunk of the semester. I have had so many discussions about this quote. I have seen and created many theatre pieces about this quote. In very many ways, I AM TIRED OF THIS QUOTE. It is like this quote and I have gone through a rocky relationship, and I would like to put it behind me, once and for all. And yet, I find myself running back to fight with it again and again.

In a sense, where I've landed with this quote is that love and hate are all about framing, and I don't tend to choose to frame love and hate in this way. It doesn't sit well for me. I know people who frame love and hate this way who are absolutely miserable; I know people who frame love and hate this way for whom it works perfectly. It seems a bit too capitalist for my liking.

But what this quote leads me to that I've still been wrestling with is selfishness, and its value.

I come from an environment that values selflessness. Now I, like any other person, am plenty selfish, but often I've found myself getting into trouble by sometimes being TOO selfless. This happens to caregivers a lot. These loving people will serve so much that they will forget to care about themselves, which can lead to catastrophic collapse. It is when selflessness turns into self-denial that things become a problem. I can spend a lot of time talking about the dangers of altruism. But still, I put a lot of value on giving of the self to others, on thinking of things beyond me. I find that my selfish desires fall absolutely short of the plans that God has in mind for me. Also, a lot of my own behavior that I really hate comes from selfishness. Self-judgment. Self-pity. Self-harm. It is very easy for me to slip into those absolutely selfish traps, so I find myself saying, "Get over yourself!" I am also careful to look at my work as being service to the world. (I should note that I know people who operate from a completely selfish standpoint, and I can honestly say that I think the world is better because they do. I don't think that would be the case if I did.)

However, there will always be an argument that when we do things for others, it's really because it makes us feel good, and therefore there's no such thing as a selfless act. Indeed, I freely acknowledge that I am a Christian because I choose to be. I believe because I choose to, because, quite frankly, I'm HAPPIER when I choose to believe. I have enough of what I call "proof" to me, but faith isn't about proof, it's about choice. And I absolutely admit that I choose to believe because it makes me feel better. There are uncomfortable consequences of that choice. Loving everyone is not comfortable, but it is a consequence of my choice.

Recently, the idea of "faith as a selfish choice" has come up. There is so much about being selfless, helping others, in the Christian faith, but so much selfishness about entering the faith to begin with. And it has been bugging me for a while now, especially since a lot of my discussions last semester had to do with selfishness as well.

Today, the preacher (who was phenomenal and is, incidentally, the pastor of Fifth Avenue Presbyterian in NYC) preached on Mark 5:21-43, focusing on the woman who touched the hem of Jesus' garmet. I was excited because I'd read the Matthew version of this text last night, and Matthew is so totally toned down from Mark (which was the first gospel written). Matthew doesn't have the "Who touched me?" discussion afterwards. Also, Jesus chooses to heal the woman in Matthew, whereas in Mark he doesn't. In my reading of the gospels, I'm amazed by how much Jesus heals. When you go through Sunday School, they don't really teach HOW much he healed. They do a few healings, water to wine, walking on water, calming the sea, all of that, but when you actually read the gospels, the man is healing people ALL THE TIME. So clearly I've been pondering Jesus-as-healer and the call to heal the world and how that involves killing postmodernism, and tra-la-la.

As the preacher talked, it was clear - these people who came to Jesus for healing came completely selfishly. Now, it's understandably selfish. That woman had been hemorraging for twelve years. But most of the examples in the Bible are NOT, "I'm coming to you because I want to help others." They're, "I'm coming to you because I'm in horrible agony." In fact, that Luke scripture I'm obsessed with about how you have to hate your life to follow Jesus... it seems to mean that you MUST be in horrible agony, to the point of giving up on everything else, to have that need for God in your life, and to be willing to accept the consequences of having God in your life. Because it is not easy. Truly following God is HARD, and all of us who try fall short. I can say truthfully that the times I have returned to God, or gotten serious about my life being what God wants for it, have been the times I have hated everything. The times I have been in enormous pain, the times I have had my whole self exhausted. The times when I have been beyond wanting comfort, beyond desperation, when I've been so holisticly beaten down that I have said, "Lord, I'm done. I am done with this world and this life. I have no where else I can go. Use me, then, as you wish."

The preacher, Rev. Dr. Johnston, said today that God accepts and uses our selfish, imperfect ways that we reach out to him. He said, "Faith is our faltering attempt to reach out to God even as God reaches out to us." And I realized that, of course, God uses our selfishness. (Which, duh, Colleen, of course. God uses everything.) So hopefully I can let that quote rest for a while.