Direct Objects

             Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. (I Corinthians 13:4)

          I’ve suggested an exercise for this passage before. Stand in front of a mirror and read this verse aloud. Replace the word love with God and add to/with/? me after each description. Look in the mirror as much as you can – tell yourself, “God is patient with me. God is kind to me. God does not envy me. God does not boast to me. God isn’t proud toward me.” Then change God to I and me to the name of someone else, and repeat. “I am patient with ____. I am kind to _____. I do not envy ____, I am not proud toward ______.” Change it out more times with different names, ending with “myself.” If any of those ignite an emotional response, take note of them as something to discuss with God.

          I’m reading an advanced reader copy of a book written by a social media friend who suggests another examination dealing with what emotions we feel. After identifying the emotion, she advises that we ask whether it is appropriate to the situation. There may be times when what we think of as patience and kindness might not be appropriate, or envy, boastfulness, or pride might be appropriate. They are the exception, not the rule, but the key here is to be able to identify these things, to recognize when we are (not) being patient or kind, or when we are (not) envying, boasting, or prideful. Then, we need to recognize when those behaviors are appropriate, when they’re not, and when they have nothing to do with the person involved. (Am I yelling at the person standing in front of me? At God? At one of my parents?)

          One of the things the exercise above makes clear is that much of what we do and how we feel involves a direct object or victim. We are patient with a victim, kind to a victim, not envious of the victim, not boastful to a victim, and not prideful toward a victim. One of the challenges we face is the temptation to love people who aren’t around. It may be easy to love the poor in Africa, Asia, and South America. We think kind thoughts, send charity, and talk to others about what wonderful people they are, but they aren’t here. As you sing their praises, the person beside you fades into nonexistence. You might not think you mean harm, but this is a form of hatred.

          “Fading” someone can be a conscious attack or an automatic response, and it’s one I think we all practice. We may tell ourselves we refuse to reward inappropriate behavior or engage in negative feedback. Still, whatever labels we put on it, it is not love if it is directed toward a person and not a specific behavior. And just as a suggestion, it might be that our intentional fading of ourselves might be a cloaking device meant to protect us from the hatred of others, or it might be used to release us from the responsibility to love others.