How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…

The 19^th-century poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning asked the question above in her Sonnet 43. This morning, I ask a different question: How do I love ME?

I am currently reading the book Happy Are You Poor by Father Thomas Dubay, SM. It is a hard, convicting read about taking seriously the Gospel’s words regarding wealth, poverty, possessions, and sharing with those in need. What has struck me hardest thus far is Father Dubay’s insistence on the actual words of Jesus—currently, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39, cf. Leviticus 19:18).

How do I love myself? Among other ways:

• I keep a comfortable house: I sleep warmly, bathe warmly, and rest when I can.
• I eat well most days. I take seconds, and, if I’m honest, sometimes thirds.
• I buy what I want, often as soon as I feel I need it. I have different clothes, shoes, outerwear, and tools for different occasions and seasons.
• I look for reasons to celebrate, to treat myself and my family, to enjoy life.
• I purchase or acquire things I don’t need and rarely use, out of desire or sentiment.
• I pursue my dreams and spend money on travel and other luxuries.
• I save money to help ensure our family’s future plans, so that we no longer have to worry about money.

What strikes me now is how this list compares to how I love my neighbor:

• Multiple times a year, we go through our closets and cupboards to donate what we no longer want or use. I try not to be wasteful with our surplus, and I pray that people are generous with our thrift store and other charities.
• I pray that those who are hungry will have food to eat—and occasionally I give money or gift cards to people I know don’t have enough to eat.
• I pray that they be kept warm and safe—and occasionally, through the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, I vote to pay someone’s rent or utilities.
• I wonder what our neighbors in need are doing with their money—what are they spending it on? Is it necessary? Wasteful? Prudent?
• I encourage budgeting, paying off debt, and setting money aside for the future—often sharing that these habits changed our lives so that we no longer have to worry about money.

Looking at the two lists, I observe a stark contrast: I get the benefit of the doubt, and they get questions and judgment. My family and I get the best of what we have, and our neighbors in need get what’s left.

While that is better than nothing at all, am I loving my neighbor as myself? When have I:

• Invited them into the comfort of my home, made them a meal, and let them stay until rested and eat until filled?
• Gotten them whatever they wanted, when they asked, without question or comment?
• Encouraged them to celebrate and enjoy life at my expense? Provided them not only with necessities, but luxuries?
• Helped them achieve their dreams?
• Walked with them until they no longer have to worry about money?

The answer is also stark: never.

My heart has yet to make the leap that I must sacrifice all the ways in which I love myself and my family. But it is acutely aware that there are only two ways to bring my love of self and neighbor into alignment: give up some of my own comforts and share more with them.