Talk or write of love, and half of humanity shuts down. “Not for me, mate,” a friend shrugs on seeing my latest novel. “Such dainties I leave to the ladies.” This was the “head start” on my blog before retiring last night. As of a minute ago, and the morning papers, I should have written “almost all of humanity” turns off when love pops up.
I forgot Trump and the Kremlin and politicians in general. Love is not the first word we associate them with. Spies and a brewing cold war point elsewhere. We can’t even imagine Mr. Putin, Teresa May and love in a triangle. The simmering sparks between Ronald Raegan and Britain’s Iron Lady were perhaps the exception that proved our rule. Then, I see the Footsie and Wall Street are at the Bubbly for the thirteenth successive day, and nobody has ever accused the money markets of being lovey-dovey.
Maybe this is why the romantic blockbuster La La Land is threatening to clean-sweep the Oscars. Yet, instinctively, we all know that even this type of love is far from making the world go around the right way. Something massive is missing.
We’ve just ended a season celebrating the entry of a loving Saviour into our history. He grew up to change the world for better with his teaching and action on love. Are we perhaps being too hasty in bundling him away with the tinsel for yet another year of unwashed and unsaved humanity?