Love and the natural world

“No doubt a particular beautiful landscape supports by its peculiar charm a particular moment of love, as do the particular brilliance of a picture, a particular moment of music, a particular elegance of dress or dwelling; but these marvels only frame: if no love had by chance turned them into a momentary resting place, their gathered splendors never would have been able to produce the least movement of love….Venice becomes beautiful only because one loves there, and not the inverse, despite appearances.” Jean-Luc Marion, God without Being

Recent days have found me contemplating the beauty of landscapes. Currently I find myself in Alaska, which certainly lends itself to a greater awareness of the marvels that confront the soul in wild spaces. I feel at times as though my soul has had a certain spaciousness that awaits to be filled by the natural world in its peculiar beauty.

Jean-Luc Marion is a French philosopher, a phenomenologist who has been accused of pushing the boundaries of phenomenology too far. I have been reading his God without Being as I have continued to research grace and the gift. Marion has a good deal to say, theologically, about the gift.

I find that this quote shifts my paradigm: “Venice becomes beautiful only because one loves there, and not the inverse, despite appearances.” Love of the natural world is what fills it with its particular wonder and awe, although it certainly feels as though the natural world fills us with awe. In reality, “these marvels only frame,” they only support the moment of love.