For some reason, our morning car rides often get quite philosophical. This morning, the concept of “context” came up, and how words change meaning depending on what’s going on around them. That led, weirdly enough, to the question of love and exactly what that means.
“Love’s a tough one,” I said. “The Greeks actually have four words for it. There’s the love a parent has for a child, the love a husband has for a wife, brotherly love, and then the kind of love we have for God.”
There was a moment of quiet as the boys pondered this. “What about the love of friends?” my oldest asked.
“That’s brotherly love,” I said.
My youngest shook his head,”we don’t have that.”
I burst out laughing, so did his oldest brother. “Oh no,” he said. “We definitely don’t have that. Punch Buggy!” He hit his brother’s shoulder. “No punch backs!”
“Hey!” the little guy said, but he was smiling from ear to ear.
Brotherly love, indeed.
[For all you Greeks out there, yes, I know I didn’t quite get the loves right,
but hey I’m Scottish-Irish. Our word for love is “beer”…]