Reflections on 1 Cor 13

It is noteworthy how the original Greek word
agapé is translated differently in different
versions of the Bible, because the meaning of each
of those translations is considerably different:
in some of them it’s charity but in most just love.
Now agapé means sacred love of God and neighbour
in its most encompassing form, while charity is
understood rather as solely the love of neighbour
— the general fellow-feeling and sympathy and
mercy with the poor — and the most frequently used love
denotes mainly the feelings between a woman and
a man — the classical concept of romantic love —
especially since this passage is commonly read
at wedding ceremonies. So much for the lexis.
Now onto the interpretation of this passage
in the context of my experience. Here it is:
If I do not have love, I am nothing. Well, that is
absolutely true. I do have lots of love to give,
but no one to give it to as nobody wants it,
and none to receive as there is nobody to give
some to me. And that’s killing me — knowing that I’m not
enough of what you need and too much of what I am.
I don’t mean anything to anyone, not really,
and particularly for you but nothing I am.
Love is patient and kind. And so am I. I always
treat nicely all whom I like. I care for them, show them
interest, make and give them gifts, and write them poems.
But, seemingly, it only bothers and disgusts them.
And my patience’s heavenly. I’d wait for those I love
steadfastly forever sans love getting abated,
as I love for life. So how much longer do I have
to wait yet till all of that is appreciated?
Love is not pompous, inflated, or proud. Nor is mine.
I respect your choice, although I think it unfair and
hurtful and grieve it much and wish that you would give me
a chance to prove to you we could work together and
have a really wonderful time as a pair. After
all, we already did once. But I keep loving you
silently, in secret. I hide my ardent feelings,
perceiving as if they were wrong, lest they annoy you.
Love is not jealous. I’ve no one to be jealous of.
But, unfortunately, I am envious — of what
you have with others but do not want to have with me.
I envy everyone you let come even somewhat
closer to you than me; everyone you allow to
spend time with you, interact and communicate too;
everyone you don’t shun like me, as I desire
so much to be able to do all that with you too.
Love does not seek its own interest but the content
and happiness of the beloved. So far I’ve always
eventually given up on all the men I had
fallen in love with and let them go find their own ways
to happiness with somebody else. But what have I
gotten for it?! Nothing! It’s given me nothing save
pain and loneliness. And despite of all the free space
“for someone better” it’s created, no one was brave
enough to ever come to me to take it and fill
in the gaping hole in my heart as well as at my
side. So why should I keep doing it — keep forgoing
myself, all my dreams and all I want? What about my
needs and interests and happiness? Don’t I deserve
to have them met too? Who would provide me that if I
always let everyone go? How can I ever be
happy if I can never be with my beloved guy?
Love bears all things, endures all things, believes all things, and
hopes all things. I’ve born and endured so much already.
But I can’t any longer! I have no hope of my
fate ever changing; don’t believe that anybody
could ever come and like me, let alone love me too,
as that’s never happened before — although I’m dying for it.
And thus hopeless, I wish I rather weren’t at all
anymore than to be ever again rejected.
I wish there was a way to get rid of unwanted
feelings once and for all at a whim. I so wish there
was a switch to turn all my feelings easily off
and no more turn them on, to save me from more despair.
Love is not quick-tempered and it never fails. That is,
unfortunately, also true for me. Mine does not
start and end so easily, in a flash. Instead, it
takes a lot of deliberation and careful thought
before I admit it — and believe me when I say
I’ve considered all the reasons why I shouldn’t want
you, yet I still do desire you. And that, for sure,
is a feeling the most hard to die, kill, or just daunt,
which even in case of the man’s total ignorance
takes years, to my misfortune and the guy’s annoyance.
So no, for me, love is truly not the most holy
and joyful feeling. It’s rather a hurtful nuisance.