Close to the molten core

It came to me, sitting in the church in which I had so many epiphanies, and suffered so much pain, that betrayal is very close to the core of love.

That to yield oneself to the abandonment of love opens you to the possibility that at some point, the person, or persons, to whom you have given part of your heart will toss it. The wild creatures that howl just outside the boundaries that we put up to try to keep them out are waiting. And sometimes, of course, we do the tossing.

I don't want to make betrayal sound exotic, when it is very common.

So much going on at that last supper in the upper room. The nerves of the disciples as they ask each other, and themselves -- could I be the man to do this? One man whose loved turned to hate over a Passover meal. And Jesus, who will leave that room to grapple with His humanity in the Garden of Gethsemane.

I who have loved, and betrayed, who have been betrayed, am still grappling with the possibility of learning to be open to love. Listening to the priest say the words of institution (this my body, this my blood), I had this oh so obvious thought -- and realized then, mid-eucharist, that it was, after all these years (this part of the journey at least) alright. I have moved on. Not because I'm resigned to betrayal or because I want to stick the thin blade between anyone else's shoulders.

But because I do believe that, in the end, love wins.

How about you?