“Boys only want love if its torture.” – Taylor Swift, Blank Space
I have daughters. Therefore, I listen to Taylor Swift.
Not necessarily because my children like her music—they did go through that stage though—but because, when they look at the world and the successful women in it, T-Swift is…well, everywhere.
So when I hear brilliant lyrics from this generation’s queen of popularity, I listen.
And analyze.
So I can discover what the King is doing through her.
Who knew Taylor Swift was such a prophet, let alone an evangelist on the value of the Holy Cross?
I kid…but not entirely.
Ms. Swift’s lyrics are often deeper than what’s interpreted, and the aforementioned “oldie” Blank Space (which is so 2014) hits on a spiritual truth familiar to Christians.
Namely, pain.
For the three people in the world who haven’t heard this song, Swift tells a story about how she entices a man by behaving like the perfect girlfriend at first. Then, in order to keep him, she turns the tables completely and becomes a manipulative zealot toward him, complete with dramatic emotion and jealous rage. Her thesis is an antithesis—she seeks love by making his life difficult so as to keep him longing for what he knows her to be, to hold out for her until she rediscovers her true, lovely self.
Of course, in this context, there’s nothing redemptive or remotely Catholic in these lyrics. However, when Joseph was sacrificed by his brothers in the book of Genesis, by the grace of God, he was placed in a position of power, the second in command behind the Pharaoh himself, to save those very brothers later in life. When Joseph confronted them, he said, “Even though you meant harm to me, God meant it for good, to achieve this present end, the survival of many people” (Gen. 50:20).
So, too, can we take “harmful” lyrics and twist them into virtue.
Beyond the surface meaning, there’s a mystical truth in Swift’s aforementioned lyrics that restates Jesus’ message in John 12:25: “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life.” To combine this truth with the hyperbolic tone of Swift’s song, we could say something like, “you must want the torture of love,” or you must desire the cross.
But, seriously, who wants the cross? It’s painful. It’s embarrassing. It’s lethal.
Answer: we want it. All of it. Because without it, we will never become holy. We will never know Jesus. We will never enter heaven.
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Mt. 16:24-25)
There’s a strange dualisticness, no, tri-listicness, to being Catholic. Yes, there’s “the world” and all of its desires for money, power, and/or fame that we’re all infected with to some degree. Then there’s the spiritual realm where the desire for holiness is held. But then there’s this mysterious third thing that shifts the balance between your pursuit of either of those two extremes—service to others.
An unfettered man can engage in a wide berth of profound activities that cater to his worldly or religious inclinations. A married man, especially one with children, must prioritize the well-being of those God has given him as his family. The single man does something similar for the ones he’s been called to serve through his vocation to his community. All people who bear the cross of others, then, have at the forefront of their minds those very people for whom they make their worldly sacrifices. We who strive for holiness must not only fight the battle for personal spiritual growth, we must fight the battles of our beloved as well.
It’s like a three-way tug of war that constantly pulls at your soul—the lines are always taught.
And it’s torture…
Until it’s heaven.
The paradox of suffering is that the same love for which we suffer becomes the reason for our joy.
C.S. Lewis breaks this process down in his book, The Problem of Pain:
In the fallen and partially redeemed universe we may distinguish
(1) the simple good descending from God,
(2) the simple evil produced by rebellious creatures, and
(3) the exploitation of that evil by God for His redemptive purpose, which produces
(4) the complex good to which accepted suffering and repented sin contribute.
Essentially, all crosses (I’m referring to any type of suffering here—spiritual, physical, emotional, psychological, etc.) are not, in themselves, good, much less joyful. However, what is good is that which comes as a result of suffering properly, namely the taking of our pain, submitting it to the will of God, and allowing it to become a redemptive tool for the world. It is much like photosynthesis: in the same way a plant takes carbon dioxide from the air and changes it into breathable oxygen, thus filtering the air, so too do we filter the effects of sin from the material world and breathe out God’s graces from the metaphysical world into reality.
As St. John Paul II wrote:
Gradually, as the individual takes up his cross, spiritually uniting himself to the Cross of Christ, the salvific meaning of suffering is revealed before him. He does not discover this meaning at his own human level, but at the level of the suffering of Christ. At the same time, however, from this level of Christ the salvific meaning of suffering descends to man’s level and becomes, in a sense, the individual’s personal response. It is then that man finds in his suffering interior peace and even spiritual joy. (Salvifici Doloris, 26)
The cross is the means by which we achieve holiness. It is torture that we must want because we want to prove our love through interminable acts of service to others.
So yes, Ms. Swift, boys only want love if it’s torture.
And Catholics only want joy if it comes from a cross.
Don’t say I
Didn’t,
Say I
Didn’t
Warn ya.
