Dulcinea vs. Aldonza

This is a long one, but bear with me. :-)

We watched a movie this afternoon. Made in 1972, Man of La Mancha chronicles the adventures of the famous Don Quixote in his quest as the last knight errant to rid the world of evil.

I can't recommend the movie, really; I had expected a light-hearted musical in the tradition of Easter Parade or In the Good Ol' Summertime. What I got instead was a philosophical debate with catchy tunes thrown in. The musical presents a contest between idealism and realism in the dark confines of the Inquisitors' dungeon, illustrated by Don Quixote's outrageous behavior.

The elderly gentleman is the hero of the story. Though he is mad, seeing giants and castles where there are only windmills and decrepit inns, he is the noble one who strives not only to be good, but to do good.

Don Quixote and his squire, Sancho, arrive at a grubby inn where a caravan of muleteers are doing their best to seduce the fiery scullery maid, Aldonza, who repeatedly slaps their hands away. She has been badly used and abused; her anger is visible in every word she says and move she makes. Hard and cynical, she sarcastically replies to their comments with the song, "It's All the Same," where she makes very clear she knows what the men want, but that it's only available for a price. All through the song she strides through the mob of scoundrels seated around the tables in the dirty inn courtyard, singing defiantly that once the price is paid she doesn't care who paid it, since men are all the same.

Then Don Quixote literally rides onto the scene. In his eyes, the gray, drab, dirty inn is a fine castle; the disreputable inn keeper is the noble lord and keeper of the fortress. After an undignified dismount from his horse and a brief word with the inn-keeper, Don Quixote suddenly stops, staring in awe.

"Dulcinea!" he exclaims.

He has caught sight of the bedraggled Aldonza, and his heart is lost forever.

He, of course, is convinced that she is a noblewoman, a pure and lovely treasure, blessed with all the fine graces befitting her exalted lineage. He insists that her name is Dulcinea, and sings her a gentle love song. At first she scoffs, then softens, then hardens her heart to the song that includes the words,

I see heaven when I see thee, Dulcinea,
And thy name is like a prayer
An angel whispers... Dulcinea... Dulcinea!

The next day, Don Quixote continues to woo his lady, Dulcinea. Aldonza is bewildered by his tender devotion, but hardens her heart toward him.

That night Aldonza is on her way to meet up with a paying customer when she sees Don Quixote, holding prayerful vigil in the courtyard as he prepares to be knighted the next day. She is curious, and she thinks she knows what he is really after. She stops to talk to him, expecting at any moment he will proposition her like every other man she has known. The conversation that followed brought tears to my eyes:

             I know you, milady.
I think you know me not.
             All my years I have known you, your nobility of spirit...
            long have I seen you in my heart.
Your heart doesn't know much about women.
             It knows all, milady.
             Woman is the soul of man...
             the radiance that lights his way.
             Woman is glory.
What do you want of me?
             - Nothing. -
Liar!!
             [humbly] I deserve the rebuke.
             - I ask of milady...
Now we get to it!
              That I may be allowed to serve her...
             that I may hold her in my heart...
             that to her I may dedicate each victory...
             and call upon her in defeat.

  and call upon her in defeat.
             And if at last I give my life...
             I give it in the sacred name of Dulcinea.

"That I may be allowed to serve her, and hold her in my heart..." While she expected the abuse she had known and embraced, he held out pure devotion and gentility. Even as she went to prostitute herself, he pledged his undying love to her.

As we were watching that scene, a little thought popped into my head: I am Aldonza. We all are.

God cherishes us. He loves us with a deep, everlasting love that makes any love we know seem empty by comparison, just like in the story where Don Quixote's innocent, pure devotion is contrasted with the mule-driver's leering lust.

But we aren't ready to believe it; we don't really trust that God loves us that much. Like Aldonza, we're waiting for the axe to fall; He loves us this much because He wants something out of it. And every time something bad happens in our lives, we yell out, "Now we get to it!" He's just been playing with us in the good times to win us over and bring us hope so He can have the fun of smashing it.

But His heart is breaking! He really does love us, with no reservations, despite of who we are, despite what we've done, and despite how we will fail in the future. He sees us as His bride, pure and spotless, and everything that comes to us is part of His loving us. He doesn't have ulterior motives; what could we possibly give him? He is devoted to us; He has pledged himself to us, to be our defender, our rock, our knight in shining armor.

The last scene we see of Aldonza is after Don Quixote's death as she and Sancho grieve together. He calls her by her given name, but she gently corrects him. Her encounter with Don Quixote's love has changed her; she wants to live up to the vision he saw of her. She takes the name he gave her: Dulcinea.

The question for my heart is, has my encounter with God's love changed me the same way? Am I willing to leave the familiarity of sin to embark on the adventure of trusting God's tender love? To give up the life I have now to live up to the life He wants me to have?

I want to. By HIS grace (the power and desire to do His will!), I will!