By Marc Gafni
Note: The following article appeared in the December 2012/January 2013 issue of Common Ground Magazine.
The true nature of your values is always revealed in death. In eulogies, both in what is spoken and unspoken, there is something of the essential nature of your life and loyalties. Sometimes, however, before you die you are strangely privileged to declare where your ultimate loyalty lies.
It was September 11, 2001. The planes had just crashed into the Twin Towers in Manhattan. Victims had moments to use their cellphones. No one called asking for revenge. No one offered philosophical explanations or profound insights into the nature of reality. People did one thing and one thing only: they called the people close to their hearts to say, “I love you.”
“I love you” is our declaration of faith. Implicit in those words is everything holy. Yet we no longer know what we mean when we say it.
It used to mean, “I am committed to you. I will live with you forever.” Or it might have meant, “You are the most important person in my life.”
But it no longer seems to mean that. And when you no longer understand your own deepest declarations of love, you are lost. You become alienated from love, which is your home. Despair, addiction, and numbness become your constant companions.
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