On my sixtieth birthday, I have lunch with T., one of my few religious friends. Or do I mean faith-professing? Anyway, he is Catholic, wears a cross around his neck and, to the alarm of some past girlfriends, has a crucifix on the wall above his bed. Yes, that does sound more like religious than faith-professing, I know. T. is soon to marry R., who may or may not have the power to remove the crucifix. This being my birthday, I allow myself more interrogatory latitude, so ask why—apart from having been brought up as a Catholic—he believes in God and his religion. He thinks for a while and replies, "I believe because I want to believe." Sounding perhaps a little like my brother, I counter with, "If you said to me, 'I love R. because I want to love R.,' I wouldn't be too impressed, and nor would she." As it is my birthday, T. refrains from throwing his drink over me.
I was particularly struck by this passage from Julian Barnes's Nothing to Be Frightened Of
while the statement is very unromantic (and i think that is the reason it is not too impressing upon the author), i don't really think it can be blamed for what went wrong. telling someone things like they are simply irresistible or that they are your destiny are very romantic things to hear, but they lack the honesty it takes to get through a fight together or make changes that need to be made. i guess i am trying to say that making that statement didn't make mme feel like a false goddess (years of psychological conditioning did that)or drive mme into another's arms, but rather just the sort of honest answer that i still consider one of the shining virtues of our relationship. if you had told mme that about believing in god, however, i would have thought you were a dumbass.
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