Distance and Love

I am thinking a lot (Is it the virus lock-down?) about distance and love. Distance, it seems to me, fundamentally structures love, which is a constant movement between closeness/intimacy and distance/separation. In this reading, distance is not separation as the contrary of love, but a movement and moment within love, inevitably and inexorably. Balthasar says the distance between the Father and the Son is infinite! What does that mean? I won't pretend to know. But I do know distance as interior to human love in all its splendor and variety. Consider:

Courtship.  The beloved, the desired is, at first, infinitely distant, separate, removed. But the desire, the delight, the appreciation ignites a ferocious, explosive movement to overcome that distance. And so: the approach; the flirtation; the thrilling, sometimes agonizing give-and-take of approach, invite, charm, repulsion, retreat and surrender.

Fatherly love is the opposite of motherly live: it starts from distance, and moves, very slowly towards closeness. My encounter, as father and grandfather, with the newborn: awkward, boring, anxious. The little one is, for me, devoid of charm, interest or beauty.  No thanks, I don't want to hold him! Sometime into the second year, a miracle happens: the ugly little monster becomes, not only a real person, but a person radiating charm, intelligence, beauty and fascination. Now the relationship begins! And it is indescribably exhilarating!

Fatherly love does not stay forever in that honeymoon period of ages 2,3,4. Rather, there are seasons. The affection, intimacy and delight will ebb and flow...more on the part of the child than the father. The little one will suddenly lose interest in Dad or Granddad...and a dry period ensues...and then the relationship will re-surge in a new, more mature key. I noticed this in a striking way with my five daughters. Up to the age of around 12 she is my little girl, precious, trusting, innocent. Around the age of 18 she becomes my adult daughter, again affectionate but in a mature, womanly manner. But 13-17 is an awkward time. As father I am fascinated by the miraculous changes occurring, but the adolescent is far less comfortable with Dad than with Mom. So, there is a quiet distance that ensues. I have never read or heard of this, but I cannot think that my experience is exceptional. It simply makes sense that the teen girl, getting used to her own budding femininity, is not entirely comfortable with her father's masculinity.

Father-Son love entails inevitably, it seems to me, some conflict, some battle, some real distancing. The son has to differentiate from Dad to attain his own masculine identity. And this will ordinarily entail, if not rebellion and discord, at least differentiation, disagreement of some sort, and distancing. The son will do things not directly approved by father. He will become something that does not echo his father. It has struck me that this phase can be particularly difficult for the son coming of age under the shadow of an especially strong, respected and confident father. Better for the boy for his father's failings to be obvious.

Father-Daughter distancing is, after the adolescent separation noted above, fluid, effortless and pleasant...in my experience. I enjoyed meeting the young man who comes courting (maybe because I have been so fortunate in my daughter's choices); getting to know him and approve of him; and finally handing her to him, in a state of pure euphoria, at the altar rail.

Marital Love moves clearly through its stages. If courtship succeeds, the honeymoon is an experience of union, of becoming two-as-one, but it is short-lived and in part illusory. It give way to parenthood which is a togetherness-in-mission that brings with it pronounced specialization and differentiation. Whatever the cultural and personally-preferred norms, the child brings a kind of a unity and a kind of separation. The work involved dissolves much of the elation of the honeymoon period. But the love takes on a depth and intensity as it looks beyond itself to the children and other shared concerns of family, community and profession.

Empty Nest love, (again, in my experience), brings a rather intense separation: the shared mission is diminished (but not erased) and the honeymoon long over and the two personalities  define themselves, and ignored dimensions of themselves, in ways that pull away from each other. Now the husband is more dedicated to his fishing or golfing or boarding homes or blog and the wife is involved in her career and gardening and interests not shared by her husband. After 30 or so years of moderate serenity, this is a real danger time for the marriage as the centrifugal dynamics, always at work and not inherently destructive, intensify. The marriage will flourish if these forces are allowed an appropriate freedom even as countervailing centripetal forces intensify. These include: love for children, grandchildren and broader family/community; shared religious faith; enjoyment of common interests and hobbies; and (for the Catholic) a renewed surrender to the graces of the sacrament.

Friendship shares the same ebb and flow of intimacy and distance: joyous seasons of effortless communion will suddenly usher in times of dissonance, disagreement and misunderstanding. Again, if the love is deep and firm, the distance will be eventually be overcome and the relationship emerge more solid.

Distance not only accompanies love but deepens it. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" goes the saying. True that! The sometimes painful endurance of distance purifies and strengthens the love. The "felt absence" of the beloved is always bitter/sweet: bitter because it is absence, but sweet because it is certain presence, in memory and longing, for the one who is cherished and delightful.

I type this on the Monday between Ascension Thursday (or Ascension Sunday for those who take their Catholicism lite lol!)and Pentecost Sunday. This is the great season of absence/presence, of intimacy/distance. When the the feminine, affectionate, intimate Mary Magdalene clings to Jesus he corrects her: "Do not hold onto me...I must go to the Father." But the distant, skeptical, angry Thomas is invited: "Put your hands into my wounds." For 40 days Jesus presents himself...randomly, serendipitously, almost capriciously. He is here one minute and gone the next. Much like the wizard Gandolf in Lord of the Rings. (Thanks to nephew Danny for that image.!) But on Ascension Thursday he makes his definitive departure: he is gone, for real, for ever. But, he goes to reign on high and to be present in a new way: in the Holy Spirit that descends 10 days (exactly!) later and in the Eucharist and in the apostolic college.

So he is present, and yet absent. To know him, personally and intimately, is to love him; to bask in his presence; but also to suffer his absence, sometimes painfully (as in the dark night of the saints.) To know and love Jesus is to be in a perennial game of "hide and seek"...now he is clearly here, then he is gone, and then he is excruciatingly absent, but then he returns better than ever. So it is on this earth. We are always with him; but always distant from him, longing for him. So, we already have a foot in heaven, but a foot on this earth that is passing away. It is a happy feeling: because it allows for the enjoyment of these passing delights without a despair about their futility as everything here that is true and good and beautiful...everything and everyone who is loved...will be restored and fulfilled in the afterlife. It makes life on this earth so much more fun: serene, anxiety-free, exhilarating and hopeful!