I’m sorry; I stumbled upon your blog, and can’t resist replying to Anwyn above.
Why do you stay? Forget about theology and Scripture for the moment. A military man
would be able to answer you (forgive my paragraph breaks here — the computer screen won’t let
me see my comments unless I include breaks every so often). I’m not a soldier, but the soldier
would know. You stay because you have made a vow. I could speak this way to a very close friend
of mine, married to another person even closer to me: you stay, because you said, before God and man,
that you would remain faithful to that person until death. That removes a lot of choices.
Thank God that it removes the choices, because I am absolutely persuaded — and I’m still not speaking
theologically here, I’m still in the realm of the natural law — that people only begin the adventure
of life when they cast their choices away. Any man who says, “I love Susie, but I don’t know that
I will always love Susie,” does not love Susie. You don’t explore a room by remaining at the threshold.
I’m not Germanic, either, but the old Germanic code of honor, so praised by Tolkien, is that you fight
all the more bravely when the cause is lost: then your arms are stronger, and your hearts bolder.
That’s pagan wisdom, which would be baptized and transformed by Christianity.
If you ask, “What good did it do that he remained with her?”, aside from the incomparable good of
her baptism, I could write for days — and I am rushing off to class in a few minutes. My first
answer, though, would be, “Since when is it up to us to determine what good will transpire from
our doing our duty?” Since when are we in the position of God’s Providence? To keep or break a
vow does not fall under the virtue of prudence; how to keep that vow does, but that it should be kept
is an absolute, as I believe Jesus has clearly said. Then what? What kind of soldier can claim to
know more than the commander, and say, “I did not obey that command, because, from my position in this
muddy foxhole, I could not see the point of it”? Or, “I did not obey, because obedience would have
brought me much suffering”? As if obedience did not bring suffering to Christ?
But I should have thought, even if one has to be crypto-utilitarian about it, that the good of a love
preserved, after all the heartache, was something noble and admirable.