Peace Finder

What does love do when it cannot fix it?

A tradition rooted in the Hebrew scriptures and in the life and teaching of Jesus of Nazareth, carried through two millennia of churches, commentaries, liturgies and practices. Its texts are read as scripture by their communities.

About this passageFrom a letter to a congregation Paul is addressing about factions, status and competition over spiritual gifts. The passage is read at weddings now, but its original setting is a community arguing about who ranks highest, and the list is built almost entirely from negatives — what love does not do — which reads differently once the quarrel is in view.

Love is patient and is kind. Love doesn't envy. Love doesn't brag, is not proud, doesn't behave itself inappropriately, doesn't seek its own way, is not provoked, takes no account of evil; doesn't rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.

In plainer words

Love waits, and is kind. It does not envy, or boast, or swagger. It does not insist on its own way. It is not easily set off. It keeps no ledger of wrongs. It takes no pleasure in someone being in the wrong, and is glad when the truth comes out. It carries what it has to carry, keeps trusting, keeps hoping, and outlasts things. Most of that list is about what you do not do.

A restatement in modern English, written for this collection. The passage above is the text; this is one way of putting it.

About this passageA lawyer has asked Jesus what he must do, been told to love his neighbour, and then asked who counts as one. This story is the answer he is given instead of a definition. A priest and a Levite are men whose standing in the community is not in doubt; a Samaritan, to the people listening, is an outsider and a heretic.

Jesus answered, “A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead.

By chance a certain priest was going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Levite also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side.

But a certain Samaritan, as he traveled, came where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, gave them to the host, and said to him, ‘Take care of him. Whatever you spend beyond that, I will repay you when I return.’

In plainer words

A man is robbed, beaten and left at the roadside. Two respectable men see him and cross over. A third, from the group the listeners would trust least, stops. What he then does is entirely practical and entirely finite: he cleans the wounds, puts the man on his own animal, pays an innkeeper to look after him, promises to settle the rest — and goes on with his journey. He does not fix everything, and he does not stay.

A restatement in modern English, written for this collection. The passage above is the text; this is one way of putting it.

Stoic

Can I sit with them without going under myself?

A school of Greek and Roman philosophy taught from the third century BCE onward, concerned with judgement, action and the distinction between what a person controls and what they do not. Its surviving handbooks were written as practical training rather than theory.

About this passageThis chapter is about being in the room with someone else's grief rather than about managing one's own. It gives two instructions that pull in different directions: keep the school's analysis of the situation in mind, and outwardly accompany the person, groaning with them if that is what is called for. The final clause is the one commentators argue about.

When you see anyone weeping for grief, either that his son has gone abroad or that he has suffered in his affairs, take care not to be overcome by the apparent evil, but discriminate and be ready to say, "What hurts this man is not this occurrence itself — for another man might not be hurt by it — but the view he chooses to take of it."

As far as conversation goes, however, do not disdain to accommodate yourself to him and, if need be, to groan with him. Take heed, however, not to groan inwardly, too.

In plainer words

When you see someone crying because their child has moved far away, or because things have gone badly for them, do not get swept up as though something terrible has certainly happened — remember that what is hurting them is not the event but the view they are taking of it, since someone else might not be hurt by the same thing. But as far as talking to them goes, do not hold yourself above them. Sit with them. Groan with them if that is what is needed. Just try not to groan on the inside too.

A restatement in modern English, written for this collection. The passage above is the text; this is one way of putting it.

Buddhist

How wide can care go before it thins out?

A tradition originating with the teaching of the Buddha in northern India and preserved in several textual collections. The discourses gathered here come from the Pali canon, recorded as talks given to particular people in particular circumstances.

About this passageThe Mettā Sutta, among the most widely recited texts in the Theravāda world and often chanted daily. It begins with ordinary conduct — be easy to speak to, be unburdensome — before it reaches the famous image of the mother, and the instruction it gives is to extend the same regard outward without selecting a recipient. The list of beings is deliberately exhaustive.

Let them be capable and upright, very upright, easy to speak to, gentle and humble; content and unburdensome, unbusied, living lightly, alert, with senses calmed, courteous, not fawning on families.

May they be happy and safe! May all beings be happy! Whatever living creatures there are with not a one left out— frail or firm, long or large, medium, small, tiny or round, seen or unseen, living far or near, those who have been born and those about to be born— may all beings be happy!

Let none deceive another, nor look down on anyone anywhere. Though provoked or aggrieved, let them not wish pain on each other.

Even as a mother would protect with her life her child, her only child, so too for all creatures unfold a boundless heart.

With love for the whole world, unfold a boundless heart: above, below, all round, unconstricted, without enmity or foe.

When standing, walking, sitting, or lying down while yet unweary, keep this ever in mind; for this, they say, is a divine meditation in this life.

In plainer words

Whoever wants to reach peace should be capable and straight, easy to talk to, gentle, not full of themselves, content, not making work for others, living lightly. May everyone be happy and safe — every living thing without a single exception: big, small, tiny, seen, unseen, near, far, already born or not yet born. Nobody should deceive or look down on anybody. Even when provoked, do not wish harm back. The way a mother would put her own body between her only child and danger — hold everything alive like that. Standing, walking, sitting, lying down, hold it. They call this the divine way to live here.

A restatement in modern English, written for this collection. The passage above is the text; this is one way of putting it.

When someone I love is suffering and I cannot fix it

What does love do when it cannot fix it?

Can I sit with them without going under myself?

How wide can care go before it thins out?