Musonius Rufus, Lectures 13.2

The birth of a human being that results from such a union is to be sure something marvelous, but it is not yet enough for the relation of husband and wife, inasmuch as quite apart from marriage it could result from any other sexual union, just as in the case of animals.

But in marriage there must be above all else perfect companionship and mutual love of husband and wife, both in health and in sickness and under all conditions, since it was with desire for this as well as for having children that both entered upon marriage.

Where, then, this love for each other is perfect and the two share it completely, each striving to outdo the other in devotion, the marriage is ideal and worthy of envy, for such a union is beautiful.

I wasted much of my life by following people who believed that sex had one purpose, and one purpose only: the satisfaction of desire.

I then later wasted even more of my life by following people who believed that sex had one purpose, and one purpose only: to produce more soldiers for God.

They were both partly right, but they both ended up being completely wrong. They saw certain bits and pieces, and yet they somehow neglected the whole.

Is sex pleasurable? Of course, sometimes in the deepest way, but all sorts of other things are fun as well.

Does sex make babies? Yes, indeed it does, but that alone hardly makes it worth my while.

They both missed the critical and secret ingredient: some of us call it “love”.

Love is not just an emotion, or something that somehow happens to me. Yes, I will feel deeply when I love, but love is not a feeling. Love is a choice, an act of the will, a deliberate sharing of my own good with the good of another.

Yes, I know, I have already lost most of you.

“I love you, baby.”

Indeed, we’ve all heard that. It does not necessarily mean that you are respected, but only that you are wanted, and when the wanting stops, then the attention stops as well. It’s all about the conditions, and that isn’t love.

“Let’s make a baby together.”

Why? Will it make you feel more important? Will it give you power? How many people, men or women alike, who use such a phrase will be there not only to change a diaper, but also to walk that young soul through life, every step of the way, over many years, without question, with absolute love?

Darn it, there’s that annoying love thing again!

The yuppies pay other people to raise their kids, and the libertines just abandon them. I’m not sure which is worse.

Nature could have found a far more efficient way to bear and raise children. A human patch, much like a cabbage patch, would have done nicely.

And yet Nature was not interested only in efficiency, and She joined our procreation together with our virtues. Nature made us to love and to understand, and She makes certain that we be given the chance to do so. Only a wise and caring woman will be a good mother. Only a wise and caring man will be a good father.

Modern conveniences now mean that we can buy babies on our own terms. Soon, modern science will mean that we can make them in a jar on our own terms. That we can do such things does not means that we should do such things.

And what will we lose? You guessed it: the love, that elusive concept that the politician, or salesman, or lawyer, or banker cannot comprehend.

How does it help me win? Where is the profit for me? Can I sell it for this or that price? Will I earn interest from the child?

Your reward will the greatest one you could ever imagine. You gave yourself absolutely to another, and now you are blessed by giving yourself absolutely to yet another.

“Wait, I don’t get it. How does that make me win? It just costs me more!”

It all depends on your measure of gains and losses. Some people recognize that the winning is in the giving, not in the receiving.

Love is the law. I love her, even when she snores, or even when she annoys me, or even when she overdraws the bank account, or even when she tells me that I am the worst of all possible men.

Love is the law. I love my children, even when they wet the bed, or even when they lie, or even when they steal, or even when they tell me that they hate me.

My wife is hardly a saint, and I am probably the worst sinner I know. Still, we love one another. This is only possible when we share every aspect of our lives, without exception. We are not even just there for one another: we are one another, with all the good and the bad mixed together, for better or for worse. That’s the annoying thing we call love. 

Written in 4/2012