Courage is to Morning, Love is to the Night

Courage is to Morning, Love is to the Night. I cannot know what my parents would have done, had they lived to this ripe old age. For some reasons, the words of the song came to me first thing today: “Le dernier bonheur du jour, c’est la lampe qui s’éteint.” But what do I mean by “Courage is to Morning…”?

They say there is physical, and then moral courage. Is that so? I have always been skeptical about that distinction. There is no moral courage without the other one for sure. But can they be physical courage without a a sense of morality, of the Spiritual? In 1945 my dad came home, on foot, through burning towns and villages in western Germany, after five years of captivity. He was a brave young man, in his steadfast commitment to see the end of the war, no matter what, and work thereafter for a better world.

Courage against the nightmare

He said to me once that at the time he had no thought of family, children, life as it would be once the nightmare was ended. A war orphan himself he knew of the long shadow the horror would project, for decades to come. So was the twentieth century. I know, and remember, that he had the courage of the morning, rising and going to work, in the cold winters, hours before dawn. This is what I mean: getting out of the trench, marching through the fog, cutting the barbed wire, or taking the shaking lift down the mine shaft. But also, facing the bullies, protecting the small friend, saying no to injustice.

My parents were aware of history unfolding around them. This also takes courage: the opposite of eyes wide shut. Ignoring the injustice, the crimes, the diabolical plots to plunder, massacre, rape and torture, is the hallmark of cowards. So, what about Love? Can there be Love without Courage? Christian Love for Jesus Christ, and Love from the Creator for us, the sinners, is all about Courage, sacrifice, the Calvary, the empty tomb, Easter and the crown of thorns. How many of us would be prepared to die on the Cross for Love?

Literature vs Courage?

Literature, would one say. Indeed. Yet, thinking of my parents, the young couple, in that far away little town, still bearing the signs of the disaster, bringing up their two sons, through years of restriction, of real poverty, I know the little island of Love was, at the end of the day, when the light is turned off. This has helped me to understand other human beings, my children, my wife, people who helped, and those who did the opposite, the inevitable scroungers and low-life.

Questions remain, I admit, about the true nature of courage, when grit becomes obstinacy, and love its apposite. I cannot and will never know what my parents would be doing, thinking, dreaming were they here now. I can only imagine as the faint light of daw reflects through the window: “un ruban de soleil”…

Picture: Achilles dragging the dead body of Hector in front of the gates of Troy

Lyrics of Le Premier Bonheur du Jour (en)

“Le premier bonheur du jour

c’est un ruban de soleil

qui s’enroule sur ta main

et caresse mon épaule

C’est le souffle de la mer

et la plage qui attend

c’est l’oiseau qui a chanté

sur la branche du figuier

Le premier chagrin du jour

c’est la porte qui se ferme

la voiture qui s’en va

le silence qui s’installe

Mais bien vite tu reviens

et ma vie reprend son cours

le dernier bonheur du jour

c’est la lampe qui s’éteint”