God of the Gaps: The Sacrament of the Present Moment

Matt 5:38-42

Commentary

v38 Eye for eye, tooth for tooth. Jesus is quoting the OT Law (Exodus 21:22-25; Lev. 24:17-22; Deut. 19:16-21). This OT law is called lex talionis, and the intention of this law is to limit retribution or restitution. In the Talmud—the Jewish interpretation of the Torah—it was considered impractical to apply this law literally (as Gandhi would later say, “An eye for an eye, and soon the whole world is blind”). Instead, the Talmud interpreted the OT law to limit restitution to the value of an eye, a tooth, etc.

v40 if someone wants to sue you. Again, the specific application is a legal proceeding. Generally speaking, a tunic, the garment being sued for, was of lesser value than a cloak. Losing part of one’s estate, the normal temptation is to hold on more tightly to what is left. Instead, Jesus says, be willing to part with the rest as well.

v41 forces you to go a mile. Literally, “pressed into service for a mile.” Roman law specified that a Roman soldier was allowed to force civilians to carry the soldier’s pack for a mile. Jesus says go beyond the minimum the law requires.

v42 Give to the one who asks you. The context for this verse is the verses that follow: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:39-48). The parallel version in Luke 6:27-36 supports this; Luke’s version begins, “Love your enemies,” and then offers much of today’s text as practical examples of love of one’s enemies.

Application

In his commentary on these verses, John Calvin says, “nothing is more unbecoming the disciples of Christ, than to spend time in caviling about words, where it is easy to see what the Master means.” Certainly the words counsel submission to others, but what are the limits—if any—to our submission? Since, as Jesus says, the meek shall inherit the earth, do we permit an abuser to run wild? Do we let a thief rob us blind? Calvin says:

Augustine ... employs much skill and judgment in showing, that the design of Christ was merely to train the minds of believers to moderation and justice, that they might not, on receiving one or two offenses, fail or lose courage. The observation of Augustine, "that this does not lay down a rule for outward actions," is true, if it be properly understood. I admit that Christ restrains our hands, as well as our minds, from revenge: but when any one has it in his power to protect himself and his property from injury, without exercising revenge, the words of Christ do not prevent him from turning aside gently and inoffensively to avoid the threatened attack. (italics mine)

Moderation and justice. Why do we so frequently fail to maintain such balance? Rarely do we make our judgments dispassionately. In our judgments we are haunted by past ghosts and future specters:

The last time a gave a homeless guy money, I saw him later with a bottle of booze, or

If I give away coat, what will I use to keep warm tomorrow?

Now there are real ghosts in our past: people who have let us down repeatedly, people who have demonstrated that they are not to be trusted. I’m not suggesting that abusers, addicts, etc. should be given complete trust in areas where they violated trust in the past. However, for most of us, we are dealing with smaller issues: children that “borrow” and never repay; friends that break a confidence; bosses that make excessive demands at work. We let these ghosts from our past color our judgments today and make us fearful of tomorrow.

Likewise there are real specters in our future: the uncertainties of what the next day will bring, the bills come due for past pleasures, or the certainty of our eventual decrepitude and demise. Today we live in troubled financial, and political, times; who knows what trouble will come on the evening news? The natural tendency is to hoard what one still has, to have a buffer against hard times ahead. When part of our treasure is snatched away by evil events and evil doers, who would not want to hold on to the scant treasure one still possesses?

Using that logic is to confuse the nature of the treasure that we have. Jean Pierre de Caussade, 17th Century Jesuit priest and spiritual advisor, counseled that our real treasure is not material goods, but the ability to live in the “sacrament of the present moment,” not worrying about yesterday or tomorrow:

What is the secret of finding the Treasure? There isn't one. The Treasure is everywhere. It is offered to us at every moment and wherever we find ourselves. All creatures, friends or enemies, pour it out abundantly, and it courses through every fiber of our body and soul until it reaches the very core of our being. If we open our mouths they will be filled. God's activity runs through the entire universe. It wells up around and penetrates every created being. Wherever they are, it is there also. It runs ahead of them, it stays with them, and it follows after them. All they have to do is to allow its waves to sweep them forward, fulfill the simple duties of their religion and status in life, accept cheerfully all the difficulties they meet, and surrender to the will of God in all they have to do…. This is authentic spirituality, and it is valid for all times and for everyone. We could not choose to become good in a better, more miraculous, and yet easier way than by the simple use of the means offered us by God; the whole-hearted acceptance of everything that comes to us at every moment of our lives.

When we live in the sacrament of the present moment, we are free to abandon fears about the past and the future. It doesn’t mean that we don’t plan for the future—we still do—but we let today’s troubles suffice for today. When we can deal with today’s troubles, today’s intrusions into our plans, without being driven by past or future fears, something amazing happens: our enemies by and large disappear. Our enemies are largely painful ghosts from past hurts or fears of future hurts, and our fear of them keeps us from dealing with them in the present moment; however, when we do so, we often find that we can love them!

The great Buddhist saint Nagarjuna moved around naked except for a loincloth and, incongruously, a golden begging bowl gifted to him by the King, who was his disciple.

One night he was about to lie down to sleep among the ruins of an ancient monastery when he noticed a thief lurking behind one of the columns. “Here, take this,” said Nagarjuna, holding out the golden begging bowl. “That way you won’t disturb me once I have fallen asleep.”

The thief eagerly grabbed the bowl and made off—only to return next morning with the bowl and a request. He said, “When you gave away this bowl so freely last night, you made me feel very poor. Teach me how to acquire the riches that make this kind of lighthearted detachment possible.”

(The Spirituality of Imperfection, p 171)

Points to Ponder

I said last week, “So, having left almost everything, why would you risk all that waits for you in the kingdom of heaven for the sake of the few things that you have claimed for yourself? Give it all away!” How does that fit in today’s lesson?

The Discipline of Abandonment:
Life after Letting Go

Jean Pierre de Caussade was the author of Abandonment to Divine Providence. Abandonment was the action by which God speaks to you through what is happening to you moment by moment.

We must offer ourselves to God like a clean, smooth canvas and not worry ourselves about what God may choose to paint on it, but at each moment, feel only the stroke of His brush … It is the same with a piece of stone. Each blow from the sculptor's chisel makes it feel-if it could-as if it were being destroyed. As blow after blow descends, the stone knows nothing of how the sculptor is shaping it. All it feels is a chisel chopping away at it, cutting it, and mutilating it. For example, let's take a piece of stone destined to be carved into a crucifix or a statue. We might ask it: 'What do you think is happening to you?" And it might answer: "Don't ask me. All I know is that I must stay immobile in the hands of the sculptor … I have no idea what he is doing, nor do I know what lie will make of me. But I know his work is the best possible. It is perfect and so I welcome each blow of his chisel as the best thing that could happen to me, although, if I'm to be truthful, I feel that every one of these blows is ruining me, destroying me, and disfiguring me."

The opposite of such abandonment is control, and he calls our attempt to control what is outside of our control “pious pigheadedness.”

Theologian Mary Reuter suggests 3 levels of abandonment:

* detachment from material gain;
* detachment from self-importance, and
* detachment from the urge to dominate others.

Where do you have trouble letting go & letting God?