The love you make

The Love You Make

The final line of the final song on the final album produced by the Beatles.

It’s called, appropriately enough, ‘The End’, and concludes with these words:-

And in the end

The love you take

Is equal to the love

You make.

Of all the fine lyrics penned by Lennon and McCartney, these few lines are, for me, the most poignant and powerful.

But are they true?

Is the love we receive determined by the love that we give, on a sort of pro-rata basis?

Of course, we would all like to think so. If only the world could be a place where the love given would always be returned in equal measure. Just imagine the impact on all our relationships, where a gentle loving word would immediately take the sting out of every confrontation, where there was no need for revenge or getting even. For in those circumstances, love would indeed conquer all.

But things are rarely as simple as this. Most of us will have known the pain of what we might describe as unrequited love. To love someone where that love is not returned is indeed a recipe for sadness and a broken heart.

The Roman poet, Catullus, summarised the conflict in a few classic lines of exquisite Latin:-

"Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?

nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior."

I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask?

I do not know, but I feel it happen and it is excruciating.

Excrucior sounds a bit like one of those spells from Harry Potter, but it simply describes the agony of unrequited love.

It is interesting that the poet sets the two feelings – love and hate – together, almost as two sides of the same coin. For both are strong emotions, and it is possible to both love and hate at the same time, especially in matters of the heart. These two conflicting emotions, although opposite sides, are still the same coin, and they are not mutually exclusive, as one might initially think.

For the opposite of love is not hatred, but rather indifference.

And it is indifference which causes the most sadness. To love someone, and for this to be ignored, is as difficult as it gets.

As Meat Loaf sings in one of his ballads, “You’ve been cold to me so long, I’m crying icicles instead of tears”

And yet, despite all the associated risk and potential pain of love, we still do it, for it is a natural instinct for all humanity. To love and to be loved in return is really what makes our world worthwhile, and so we find ourselves seeking this experience for ourselves. Of course, not everyone finds it, but when it happens, we know.

I have written previously of Billy Joel’s beautiful lyrical offer in his song – “You can have this heart to break”, and sadly for him, and I am sure for many, the risk of loving, of opening our heart to someone, brings the risk of seeing that heart broken.

Yet we do it, despite the attendant risks, for we know that it is a worthwhile quest, and when the quest is successful, it is world-changing and life-defining.

It has to be said that in any relationship between two people, the real power in the relationship is held by the one who loves the least. For the one who loves the least also has the least to lose. The more we love, the more we open ourselves up to the possibility of indifference, accompanied by the risk of abandonment and loss.

The only solution to this, if we really want to avoid the possibility of pain, is never to love in the first place. But as McCartney says, if we choose that route, the love we take will ultimately equal the love we make. To choose to love in a world without love is a brave thing to do, but at the same time, perhaps it denies us the possibility of becoming fully human.

For it is only in love, in relationship with others, in belonging to someone in that sense, that our life has any real significance.

During my enforced sabbatical following my heart attack, as you can see, I have taken up writing as a cathartic expression of my feelings of insignificance.

I even thought about writing a new translation of the bible, or even just the New Testament, or perhaps just a gospel. As it is, I managed just the one chapter (so far), but here it is, for it rather resonates with the Beatles, Meat Loaf and Billy Joel. It may even resonate with you…

If I were to be the worlds greatest preacher, able to captivate and entertain the congregation, with great illustrations and wonderful jokes, even if I saw thousands of people making a response to my appeals – if I did not display genuine love and real compassion, then I would be no better than a mere entertainer, the Bruce Forsyth of Methodism.

If I was the cleverest minister who ever lived, if I knew my bible backwards, could quote Latin and Greek until the cows come home, if my understanding of Methodist rules was unsurpassed, and I could provide smart answers to even the most complicated theological questions – if I did not put other people first and foremost in all that I do, loving them as Jesus loves, then I would be wasting my time and unworthy of my calling.

If I lived sacrificially, giving everything to the church, if I supported every charity under the sun, tramping the street with a collecting tin, if I attended every fund-raising event, and gave all my own money to the poor, even if I surrendered my very life for these causes – if all this was not undergirded with deep love flowing from my heart, then all my sacrifice would ultimately be as useless as a chocolate teapot.

You see, I am called to love – with patience, with kindness, never putting myself first, and never getting puffed up or super-confident.

You and I are called to love, a gentle and sincere love, a love which never angers, never gives up, never holds grudges against anyone.

This sort of love is the only love worth sharing, because it always brings out the best in people, rejoicing with those who rejoice, and weeping with those who weep.

This sort of love is strong, brings hope and encouragement.

Not only that, but this sort of love never fails, it cannot be overcome, it always wins.