Love of Mike Article, Saint Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church, Corona Del Mar, April 2004

Which is more important in a marriage, passion or commitment? These ideals are often set up as competing, not complementary values, in part because we tend to see life as a series of compromises in which we sacrifice our greatest desires in order to achieve more reasonable goals. We stopped playing in that rock band so we could go to law school. We gave up our dream of living in SoHo so our kids could live in the suburbs. And often, we are told, marriage is an inevitable passion-killer, forcing us to cast aside those longing glances, passionate kisses, and evenings devoted to aromatic bath-tubs and romantic candles in favor of harried discussions over crammed calendars, pecks on the cheek, and evenings devoted to children’s science-fair projects.

The author of Genesis, a book we’ve been studying in our Adult Sunday School Class, struggled with the same issues and explored them through Jacob’s relationship with his two wives, Rachel and Leah. Jacob fell in love with Rachel the first time he saw her. He was so desperate to marry her that he worked seven years for her father in order to be granted her hand. His passion for her was so intense that the seven years “seemed like only a few days because of the love he had for her.” (29:20) Yet his father-in-law played a trick on him, and, probably using veils and the darkness of night, married Jacob to his older daughter Leah, instead of Rachel. The text describes Rachel in terms of her effect on the eyes: she was beautiful. But the text describes Leah in terms of the capacity of her eyes. (Though the meaning of the Hebrew word is unclear, it suggests that Leah had “tender eyes,” possibly meaning she was perceptive and perhaps empathetic.) So, because he was a bigamist, Jacob was able to live out this conflict between passion and commitment literally, married to two women, one known for her beautiful appearance, and one known for the beauty of her inner self. One marriage relationship is driven by passion, the other by commitment.

The key to the story is their wedding night, when, in the darkness and intimacy of the moment, Jacob, who had loved Rachel for seven years, could not tell the difference between the two sisters. This seems to imply that the pleasures promised by passion do not always live up to our expectations. Beautiful people can sometimes be as selfish, cold, or impassive in the dark as they are in the light, and apparently, Rachel’s beauty, so obvious in the light, was of no use to her on her wedding night when her less attractive sister, Leah, could easily her take her place and Jacob was none-the-wiser. This forces us to rethink through our response to the passion-commitment issue. I think Genesis argues that while passion can create incredible expectations in us, only commitment can help us find fulfillment.

Fortunately, in our culture, we choose our mates, and often we can combine passion and commitment in wonderful ways. Last night I came home at 10:30 p.m. and found no candles burning, no incense wafting, and no bubbly aromatic bathtub waiting. Instead, I found a baseball bat left in the hallway . . . again, a garbage can full of dirty-diapers, and a house full of sleeping loved-ones. I changed for bed, brushed my teeth, and read an article in this week’s New Yorker about glamorous designer Miuccia Prada, listening to the gentle but heavy breathing of both my wife and baby--a tiny percussion duet—creating the perfect music for my mood. When my eyes grew heavy I turned off the light and rolled over, “spooning” my wife. She responded with a semi-conscious groan which I interpreted to mean, “welcome home, I love you,” and she nestled her back against my chest and quickly sank back into her R.E.M. sleep. This was not the passionate dream of marriage I imagined as a younger man—a dream filled with chocolate-covered strawberries, champagne, and lingerie—but it was more than I could have hoped for—the comforting intimacy of knowing I am loved and needed—and that was enough.