***
Love is long-suffering and kind. Love is not jealous, it does not brag, does not get puffed up, does not behave indecently, does not look for its own interests, does not become provoked. It does not keep account of the injury. It does not rejoice over unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails.
- 1 Corinthians 13:4-8
***
Love is long suffering and kind. A long obstacle course with thorns and hot coal. It looks kindly upon the failings of the elders and your parents and the Christian congregation. Because although they are fallible, the voice of Jehovah which speaks through them is not. You will not ask why, when women have questions they are supposed to go home and ask their husbands, why they cannot speak in the congregation, why they cannot lead the congregation in prayer, why they alone must cover their heads during a prayer. You will not ask why, once you got baptised you began saying prayers over your mother. You will not ask the wisdom of letting children die because some men in the United States, yes all men, decided that the correct and modern interpretation of Paul’s words in Acts 15: 29 to “keep abstaining from blood” means that one must also abstain from blood transfusions even at the risk of death. That even though Paul had no idea that some day science would have progressed to the point that they could purify, store and transfuse blood, it was God’s wish that his faithful servants or their children needed to die if necessary, to prove their loyalty. That was love. Letting your child die was love. Letting yourself die was love.
And for this you would prepare yourself mentally, by reading again and again what one must do when faced with this choice. That coldness of heart borne out of love, that would allow you give your child up in the same way Abraham was asked to slaughter his own son just to prove a point. You must love this god that likes to ask people to kill their children, except that in modern times, it was not a test that would end with a lamb in a bush, a sigh of relief and a lesson for all time: obedience is love.
Love does not behave indecently. You knew this when you were making Em laugh and giving her attention and showing up when she was out reading at night in poorly lit classrooms. You knew this when she agreed to come to your room off campus, when she let you kiss her, let you take off her bra, let you touch her however you wanted to. But sometimes, when you have behaved indecently, you remember another facet of love: it does not rejoice over unrighteousness. So when Em’s friends wanted to call you her boyfriend months after you were regularly having sex, you resisted violently, refused to be seen with her in public, refused to hold her hand unless you were grunting through very frantic thrusts, shutting your eyes and willing the guilt caused by your indecency away. You still wonder why she just lay there and take it, take the bad sex, take you getting up immediately after and remembering what true love was, for god and his commands, remembering that this indecency was not love, even though it always began with jokes and hugs and fondling and tender kissing. After this very quickly executed indecency the least you could do was not rejoice over this unrighteousness. Could she see that you would feel the guilt build up until you could no longer breathe, no longer sleep, no longer eat? Could she have understood it, when you were breaking up with her without telling her, just disappearing, just never committing, that in fact you would be disfellowshipped for sloppy, quick sex you and certainly she, did not even enjoy? That you would call your father on the phone crying because the one thing you feared more than anything in the world —becoming as sickly as Brother M, as Sister Ib— was happening to you, the son of an elder, who was supposed to become an elder?
Love believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. You were lost and all alone, not fully in the world knowing all of the rules and able to navigate it and not fully in the truth, protected by Jehovah’s organization and his loving kindness. In Abuja you sank to a new depth. You lived with your uncle because your mother could not understand why you needed to live alone (even though you were a 27 year old lawyer) because your uncle, the only uncle of yours who was a Jehovah’s Witness had a house in the city with a spare room. Too much independence. And so you lived there with his family, his wife and two children, not being able to meet friends at home. It was no one's concern if you needed to date. Because in fact as a Jehovahs Witness you did not need complete privacy to date and dating was only to be done when marriage was the goal. You were not supposed to have sex. What did you need your own flat for?
By this time you had significant doubt about the religion, significant disloyalty, enough to worry if any of your prayers were reaching its intended address. You joined your uncle and his family to the Kingdom Hall because it was the unspoken condition for living there. That you would at least take the religion as seriously as they took it. That you would attend meetings. And go preaching from door to door.
But you were having sex. Lots of it. You had gay friends. You did not believe women had to cover their hair unless they felt like it. You did not believe women should not be leaders in the Christian congregation. You smoked cigarettes. Lots of them. And you tried to mask the smell with mint sweets and perfume. Lots of mint sweets and perfume.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Elnathan’s Corner to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.