How can one love be perfect and another a sin? How can we limit our sense of human connection with parameters that we impose ourselves?
And what about when one of these loves, these "indistretions" of the heart, is felt by a child? Do we teach him that he is, by his love, made imperfect? That he is dirty? Wrong? And do we then teach the child that not only do we as a society judge him as damaged, broken in some fundamental way, but so does his Creator? The God of his dreams? The God of his innocence?
And where does innocence end? With touch? With taste? With a thought? No, innocence is preserved by these things. It is preserved by the acknowledgment of every kind of love. By the act of love itself, without discrimination, which is ever born of our fear.
Love itself is to be found there, I think: in the absence of fear. Let us be brave.
And what about when one of these loves, these "indistretions" of the heart, is felt by a child? Do we teach him that he is, by his love, made imperfect? That he is dirty? Wrong? And do we then teach the child that not only do we as a society judge him as damaged, broken in some fundamental way, but so does his Creator? The God of his dreams? The God of his innocence?
And where does innocence end? With touch? With taste? With a thought? No, innocence is preserved by these things. It is preserved by the acknowledgment of every kind of love. By the act of love itself, without discrimination, which is ever born of our fear.
Love itself is to be found there, I think: in the absence of fear. Let us be brave.
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