A Sadder Colour
In his poem “Death is smaller than I thought” Adrian
Mitchell wrote,
My mother and father died some years ago.
I loved them very much.
When they died my love for them
Did not vanish or fade away.
It stayed just about the same,
Only a sadder colour.
And I can feel their love for me
Same as it ever was.
Love is an odd sort of thing, isn’t it? Some say it is an
over-used word today, that it has lost its meaning. But
it is only a word that tries to explain a unique and
special reaction we have, unique because it is deeper
than affection, it often defies logical and common
sense, it makes us do things over and above what we
would normally do, sometimes even to the extent of
giving our lives to a cause or a person. Love continues,
even when it becomes ‘a sadder colour’. Infatuation or
affection don’t always last, but in St Paul’s words: ‘love
endures all things’ (1 Cor 13). Even death.
I never really knew my mother. She died unexpectedly
when I was four years old. I have no memories of her
and, as was the custom in those days, no-one spoke
about her or told stories about her, it was the way
people grieved. I look at photos of her today and
wonder what she was like – she looked to be a very
kind and loving person. Like Mitchell’s poem, when she
died my love for her did not diminish or die – it stayed
the same. And I can still feel her love for me.
Knowing what it is to be loved and to love is an
incredible gift. Most of us experience what it is to be
loved – we have experienced the love of a parent or
family members or friends. In its own way, that
experience gives us a glimpse of the love of God. Not
everyone is blessed in such a way. Our world can be a
very unloving place. There are so many children, for
example, who are victims of wars or sexual abuse or
violence. Domestic violence and brutality can be passed
down from generation to generation. Knowing what it
is to be loved, no matter what age we may be, is a gift
to be treasured.
When Jesus told us that we must love one another as
he loved us, it is easy enough to agree when we
consider how much we are loved. When we look at the
example of Jesus in the Gospel and see how generous
and loving Jesus was to those closest to him, to his
family, his followers but also to the sick, the disposed,
to those who were suffering in any way. We can even
consider ourselves to be very loving people; that we
live up to Jesus’ command – don’t we relate to those
people who are loving, warm, respectful, and gracious
towards us?
But love, as Jesus warned us, is a risky business. We can
become very vulnerable. Essentially love means that we
must open ourselves to the other without reservation.
Love one another as I have loved you is a tough
commandment because it also asks us to love those
who don’t like us, who may be opposed to us. Jesus’
command asks us to treat others as equals….and that’s
the really hard part. We are asked to be compassionate
to other people, not only because they may be
suffering or in need, not as people who need our help
or largesse, but because we see them as equals. We
love them for who they are, not for what we can do for
them, or not for what we think they ought to be.
I read somewhere once that we are at our best when
we walk with our opposite. That means when we
respond to those who perhaps hate us, whom we don't
like, when we seek out the people whom we avoid and
who avoid us, those to whom we feel resentment or
with whom we are at odds, towards whom we feel
suspicion, coldness, anger or those we haven't been
able to forgive. We are at our best when we try to ‘walk
with’ those who oppose us, those who do not see the
world as we see it, those who challenge us. Sometimes
they don’t respond or they respond with hostility. It can
be painful. Putting ourselves in their shoes, trying to
see through their eyes and their beliefs can be a great
catalyst for growth – not just in character, but in faith
and belief and understanding, and in love of the other.
That’s the ‘as I have loved you’ part of Jesus’ new
commandment. Jesus did not reject those who were
not Jews, those who opposed him, those who were
seen as unclean or rejected by the laws of his faith or
the society in which he lived. He did not see those who
were ostracised as any the less.
Walking with them means not necessarily wanting to
change them or being good to them, but respecting
them for who they are, it means learning from them
because all people are sacred. It is not up to us to
judge them. In the very early days of her
extraordinary ministry, Mother Teresa wrote of an
encounter which helped her to understand that ‘the
poor are our masters; the poor have a dignity and are
our equals’. She tells the story of feeding a Hindu
family with eight children who had not eaten in days.
However, the mother took all the rice, and gave it to a
hungry Muslim family next door!
All of us are sacred. As the poet Adrian Mitchell
recognises, love does not stop at death. It is the glue
that binds us all.
Regards
Jim Quillinan
Phone: 0401 933 023
Email: [email protected]
A Sadder Colour
11 June 2013
Funded and published by Catholic Education Office, Sale for schools in the diocese.