A Sunday Kind Of Love

There were snow flurries outside as we drove across eastern Indiana to pick up our new-to-us car waiting for us in Plainfield. Dawna was napping and Mark was playing old jazz standards. As Dawna awoke she heard the clear, bluesy voice of Dinah Washington:

I want a Sunday kind of love. A love to last past Saturday night

I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight. I want a Sunday kind of love

Dawna reached over and touched Mark's arm. "I think we have a Sunday kind of love," she said.

What did that mean to us in that moment? A Sunday kind of love is one that lasts. It's committed, comfortable, affectionate, secure. It's each of us seeking the well-being of the other. In many ways, it's our measure of a successful marriage.

This Sunday's Gospel got us reflecting on that moment, and what we meant by a "Sunday kind of love." Jesus asks people why they went out to see John the Baptist: to hear a reed that bends in the wind? To see elegance and fine clothing? No, he says. You went to hear a prophet.

We live in a society in which standards seem to be always shifting, bending like a reed in the wind. Sometimes we celebrate independence and personal fulfillment above all; sometimes we emphasize romance and passion; other times we look for economic success and carefully curated social media images of perfect couples in beautiful homes; and still other times we focus on partnership and shared goals.

These changing winds can leave couples wondering: Are we successful enough? Happy enough? In love enough?

But a Sunday kind of love—the kind that lasts past Saturday night—isn't measured by these shifting standards.

Catholic theology describes marriage as a sacrament—an outward sign of inward grace. This means marriage isn't just a contract between two people, but a participation in divine love itself. The measure of a sacramental marriage isn't personal accomplishment, or worldly success, but the degree to which spouses help each other grow in holiness, generosity, and love.

It's measured by faithfulness in both prosperity and hardship, by the choice to remain committed when feelings fluctuate, by the daily decision to see and serve God in and through your spouse.

This doesn't mean a successful marriage is grim duty or joyless sacrifice. Quite the opposite.

Research shows that couples who view their relationship as sacred—whether through explicit religious commitment or even just a deep sense that their bond transcends themselves—report higher satisfaction and stability. There's profound joy in knowing you're loved not for your appearance or what you bring to the relationship, but for who you fundamentally are. There's freedom in commitment that says, "I'm not going anywhere," removing the anxiety of constantly proving yourself worthy of love.

A Sunday kind of love recognizes that the prophet in the wilderness has more to teach us than the elegantly dressed courtier. It understands that true marital success is measured by depth, not dazzle; by faithfulness, not fireworks; by the quiet daily choice to turn toward each other with kindness, even when—especially when—it's difficult.

When Dawna reached over and touched Mark's arm that snowy afternoon, she was putting a name to something essential: our love had long ago moved from Saturday night excitement to Sunday morning steadfastness. It had become the kind of love that gets up with sick children, that forgives thoughtless words, that celebrates the other's successes without jealousy, that remains present through loss and grief. It's the kind of love that, like John the Baptist, prepares the way for something greater—a glimpse of the divine love that never wavers, never fails, never ends.

So what makes a successful marriage? Not the house, the clothes, or the Instagram-perfect moments. A successful marriage is one where two imperfect people choose, day after day, to seek each other's good, to grow together, to remain faithful to their covenant. It's measured by love that lasts past Saturday night—a Sunday kind of love that points beyond itself to the One who is love itself.

I want a love that's on the square. Can't seem to find somebody to care.

And I'm on a lonely road that leads to nowhere

I need a Sunday kind of love

Photo by Alanjvm from Pixabay.