This is the story of a young man who falls head over heels in love with a "kept woman." He is willing to give up everything he has for her love, and she loves him too much to allow him to do it. That part, I suppose, is beautiful. So, thinketh I, is this quote:
"Why do we make ourselves more strict than Christ? Why, holding obstinately to the opinions of the world, which hardens itself in order that it may be thought strong, do we reject, as it rejects, souls bleeding at wounds by which, like a sick man's bad blood, the evil of their past may be healed, if only a friendly hand is stretched out to lave them and set them in the convalescence of the heart?" Lady of the Camellias, pg. 25
Admittedly, I had to look up the word "lave" to fully understand the above (lave, by the way, means to refresh or soothe as if by washing), and, admittedly, were I as smart as my parents I would readily have scriptures and/or quotes to go along with that passage. But I'm not, so I don't. I do really like the imagery, though, that the passage brings to my mind: the contrast between something hardening and constricting itself, like stones or hard-packed soil, versus the releasing liberation of letting something painful go, like watching a handful of mud disintegrate in a flowing stream...I am reminded of something C.S. Lewis wrote sometime, somewhere, about how we, in trying to protect our heart by putting it in a locked box, instead find it atrophied and hardened against future use. I am also reminded of the Bible's story of the woman who came to Jesus and bathed His feet with her tears. Isn't that what we have to do--keep our heart out and available, even though it is assuredly going to get hurt, and then wash away our sins and mistakes with tears and sorrow at Christ's feet? Yes. I like the picture of things breaking up and flowing far far away from me.
Now I know that's not really what the passage is about. It's about the compassion and healing we can give to others by not hardening ourselves in pride and judgement against them. And it calls for us to be more Christ-like in our dealings with others. Christ has promised us His help and forgiveness, in fact, a complete washing away of all stains and sins (there's that water/washing idea again) if they/we come to Him with a broken (not hardened and stony) and contrite heart. Interestingly enough--at least to me--the word contrite originally meant to grind down into small pieces, and, oh, there's that picture in my mind again of things dissolving into the stream, washing themselves away, away, away...So anyway, let's all just be nice, okay. Think how much better off we'd all be if we could look at and treat others without judgement. Believe me, I'm as guilty as anyone! Just mention the word preschool and I'm bound to show my hardness towards others right off.
Anyway, the book is all about how hardness and judgement ruin the fun for everyone. So does consumption.
A while ago my Uncle Larry asked me what made the Twilight Series so appealing to women. My proposed theory was that most women have this deep down yearning for someone to adore them, full body and soul. That's what we see in Edward and his love for Bella. That, by the way, is also what's seen in this book, but this time it just made me nauseous. Armand, our young lover boy, cries and carries on, often unable to keep his tears from falling as he thinks of his love, Marguerite. He must touch what she has touched, see what she has seen, hear whatever words she has spoken. It's obnoxious. He's ridiculous. But apparently it touched the readers of the day enough to want it produced over and over again. There's no need for you to read the book: there are over 20 films based on the story, 2 ballets, several plays, and you could always go listen to La Traviata, 'cause this is where that came from, too. Just think what Twilight could become through the ages!
"Why do we make ourselves more strict than Christ? Why, holding obstinately to the opinions of the world, which hardens itself in order that it may be thought strong, do we reject, as it rejects, souls bleeding at wounds by which, like a sick man's bad blood, the evil of their past may be healed, if only a friendly hand is stretched out to lave them and set them in the convalescence of the heart?" Lady of the Camellias, pg. 25
Admittedly, I had to look up the word "lave" to fully understand the above (lave, by the way, means to refresh or soothe as if by washing), and, admittedly, were I as smart as my parents I would readily have scriptures and/or quotes to go along with that passage. But I'm not, so I don't. I do really like the imagery, though, that the passage brings to my mind: the contrast between something hardening and constricting itself, like stones or hard-packed soil, versus the releasing liberation of letting something painful go, like watching a handful of mud disintegrate in a flowing stream...I am reminded of something C.S. Lewis wrote sometime, somewhere, about how we, in trying to protect our heart by putting it in a locked box, instead find it atrophied and hardened against future use. I am also reminded of the Bible's story of the woman who came to Jesus and bathed His feet with her tears. Isn't that what we have to do--keep our heart out and available, even though it is assuredly going to get hurt, and then wash away our sins and mistakes with tears and sorrow at Christ's feet? Yes. I like the picture of things breaking up and flowing far far away from me.
Now I know that's not really what the passage is about. It's about the compassion and healing we can give to others by not hardening ourselves in pride and judgement against them. And it calls for us to be more Christ-like in our dealings with others. Christ has promised us His help and forgiveness, in fact, a complete washing away of all stains and sins (there's that water/washing idea again) if they/we come to Him with a broken (not hardened and stony) and contrite heart. Interestingly enough--at least to me--the word contrite originally meant to grind down into small pieces, and, oh, there's that picture in my mind again of things dissolving into the stream, washing themselves away, away, away...So anyway, let's all just be nice, okay. Think how much better off we'd all be if we could look at and treat others without judgement. Believe me, I'm as guilty as anyone! Just mention the word preschool and I'm bound to show my hardness towards others right off.
Anyway, the book is all about how hardness and judgement ruin the fun for everyone. So does consumption.
A while ago my Uncle Larry asked me what made the Twilight Series so appealing to women. My proposed theory was that most women have this deep down yearning for someone to adore them, full body and soul. That's what we see in Edward and his love for Bella. That, by the way, is also what's seen in this book, but this time it just made me nauseous. Armand, our young lover boy, cries and carries on, often unable to keep his tears from falling as he thinks of his love, Marguerite. He must touch what she has touched, see what she has seen, hear whatever words she has spoken. It's obnoxious. He's ridiculous. But apparently it touched the readers of the day enough to want it produced over and over again. There's no need for you to read the book: there are over 20 films based on the story, 2 ballets, several plays, and you could always go listen to La Traviata, 'cause this is where that came from, too. Just think what Twilight could become through the ages!
