There is a concept in Judaism that love is grounded in knowledge. To love someone is to “know” him/her.
Knowledge, love, those words obviate any precise definition and instead yield themselves to a multiplicity of meanings generated at every attempt of a conceptual line of demarcation. From a linguistic perspective (and a democratic one per se), a word is all of its possible perspectives. We all construct our own definitions of knowledge and love, along with a plethora of other loaded concepts. One some level, the meanings must converge, like circles in venn diagrams.
However, language itself is a circle, and expositions on the nature of signification are futile for this purpose. The focus of inquiry should lie in asking what the process of “knowing” the other is and what are the various ways that this process unfolds. Is knowledge in fact a foundation upon which love can burgeon? Can you love someone you don’t know?
Knowing the other presupposes the assumption that the other is not only knowable, but also that one can break out of the veil of subjectivity to “objectively” grasp the essence of the other. When I construct an account of the “other”, how much of it is truly reflective of him, and how much of it is merely a mirror turned inward, indirectly revealing my own biased prisms. It may be a synthesis of both. Knowing the other may necessarily be bound to knowing one’s own self. Subjective veils are inevitable, but can be sightly transparent with the use of certain mediums.
Language may not be one of them. From the ontological perspective, language is deeply biased and pervasive in shaping many facets of individual and social reality. However, in the realm of basic communication it achieves a meaningful purpose. Words have the potential to bridge horizons of subjectivity into a shared space of meaning, given that you and I agree to a large extent on the definition of the words we employ. Usually there is an implicit consensus that allows for sustained communication to come to fruition. To a large extent, we use speech acts to communicate meaning to one another, and succeed at doing so despite the awareness that certain aspects will be “lost in translation”. The losses aren’t terribly august. From a broader perspective, communication is a foundation for knowing the other. I won’t expound of various types of communication here in fears of additional unnecessary tangents. Although my potential tangents down the line might inadvertently touch upon them.
Now back to words….
Language is often employed as a tool for the expression of intimate thoughts and emotions, like when your lover whispers sweet nothings in your ear that turn you into a puddle of mush. The skeptic within you, or at least as an aficionada of linguistic terms, might ponder whether his definition “love” is similar to your definition of “love”. Are you two really feeling the same emotion in the same intensity? Maybe it is useless to dwell in the labyrinths of linguistic unknowns. Language ultimately fails. For how can we ever give an accurate measure of how we feel? As Flaubert beautifully articulates, language is a “cracked kettle upon which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity”. But his words may be veracious, if accompanied by certain behaviors.
Hmmm. Behaviors. Another form of communication? Another way to establish knowledge of the other? Your concept of the other roughly speaking is a sketched composite of all of their words and actions. You come to love someone by knowing how they go. Their patterns. Their limits. Their behavioral manifestations in time and space. Perhaps there exist parameters of behaviors, and “knowing” the other would entail becoming intimately aware of the other’s extremes. Just some musings.
An interesting finding in research on attachment in early infancy supports the Judaic concept of knowledge and love being linked conceptually. The estimable paradigm suggests that early attachment is a foundation upon which all future relationships flourish. It is primarily fostered in the context of interaction shared between the mother and the baby. One of the adverse effects on the development of a healthy attachment can be found in the discord of mimicry between the mother and her child. Building blocks of communication are jeopardized in instances when the baby is distressed and the mother, rather than imitating the baby’s distress through facial expressions, instead smiles or shows apathy. There is no bridged horizon of understanding. The preverbal baby grasps the message: my mother does not know how I feel. This idea flirts with uncertainties of theory of mind, but may not be completely impractical of a theory. However, at its core is the underlying experience of empathy, which is central to experiencing, knowing and loving the other.
One last thought about the linguistic aspects of love. Love should always be regarded as a verb. One is always in the process of loving. Given we are temporal beings unfolding in time, we are never in love but loving, giving, caring, experiencing, being. I would even argue that ontology should move from working less with nouns to mostly, if not solely, with verbs. To love is to infinitely give the other your time, your attention, your concern, your empathy, yourself without completely losing the you in the other. Like in Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology of seeing, where you and the world are enveloped in a sort of chiasm, an intertwining, however you remain you and the world retains its distinct form.
So how does one come to “know” the other? Through words? Behaviors? Mimicry? Knowing the self as predicated upon knowing the other? Is knowledge and love a bidirectional process? Perhaps love is essential in knowing the other, as opposed to knowledge being essential for love.
Posted on February 3, 2012
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