Manguel II

Having been impressed with The Library at Night (see January 10 and nearby posts on this blog), my visit to the in-laws brightened when I found this book on the shelf -- an earlier collection (1996) of Alberto Manguel's thoughts on books and reading. It's hard to summarize, or even categorize, a book like this. Where does it go on the shelf? With history? Autobiography? Literature? Cultural commentary? Essays?

I don't know other than to say that it doesn't belong in any of those places; it belongs in the reader's hand, preferably late at night after the children have gone to bed and there's nowhere to be early the next morning. Or a rainy afternoon following a morning spent working in the yard. Or, in a pinch, on a long airplane trip. Any place where the reader can lose himself in Manguel's prose about, well, prose and its consumption.

Books like this are hard to find, and to be cherished when they are. I'll give a few memorable excerpts in coming days. Only one question remains: Do I have to give it back to my mother in law?

Do Unto Others

"So whatever you wish that others would do for you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets." --Jesus, Matthew 7:12

Now that's a unsettling way to sum up the law of God. How much should we do for others? Just however much you wish they would do for you, that's all. There goes Jesus again, setting up an impossible standard that no one can meet. To be sure, this standard points us to the good news of the gospel -- the free grace of God to cover our sins and inadequacies. God loves us through Christ even though we cannot meet this impossible standard.

But there's more at work here, at Thomas Chalmers pointed out in his sermon, "On the Great Christian Law of Reciprocity Between Man and Man." Sure, this "golden rule" calls us all to give so much more than we do; that much is plain. But Chalmers takes this bit of logic and runs with it, to distressing ends. The golden rule appears self defeating, if you think about it a little:

But, at this rate, you may think that the whole system of human intercourse would go into unhingement. You may wish your next-door neighbor to present you with half his fortune. In this case, we know not how you are to escape from the conclusion, that you are bound to present him with the half of yours. Or you may wish a relative to burden himself with the expenses of all your family. It is then impossible to save you from the positive obligation, if you are equally able for it, of doing the same service to the family of another. Or you may wish to engross the whole time of an acquaintance in personal attendance upon yourself. Then, it is just your part to do the same extent of civility to another who may desire it.

--page 258

The Christian economy would become one of voluntary 100% redistribution by everyone, all the time. At the extreme, everyone would starve because we'd all give away all our food, and no one would ever eat it because they'd keep re-gifting!

So was Jesus just not a careful thinker? Did He not see the absurdity of His logic? Or perhaps He was merely exaggerating. Maybe He meant we should be "reasonably generous" or do all for others that we can "afford" to do without impoverishing our own families (still a high calling for many of us, from which we fall short daily!). Or perhaps He knew most would not do what He said, so the teaching is just for the few who can hear. Or maybe the intent was to set an impossible standard, just to show us the need for the gospel.

None of this was sufficient for Chalmers. Instead, he kept pressing the golden rule's own internal logic. It sounds like he's trying to undo the force of Jesus' teaching at first, but stick with him for a minute; I'm certainly glad I did.

In step one, Chalmers notes that the rule doesn't command anything at all in particular; rather, it conditions its imperative force entirely on the hearer's desires:

If you would not like him to do it for you, then there is nothing in the compass of this sentence now before you, that at all obligates you to do it for him.

-- page 258

In step two, he shows the deeper answer to the riddle of the rule:

There is one way of being relieved from such a burden. There is one way of reducing this verse to a moderate and practicable requirement; and that is, just to give up selfishness -- just to stifle all ungenerous desires -- just to moderate every wish of service or liberality from others, down to the standard of what is right and equitable.

--page 259

(Chalmers notes at this point that, while the whole of the moral law may be summarized in this rule, its particulars should never be overlooked: "[T]there may be other verses in the Bible by which we are called to be kind even to the evil and the unthankful. But, most assuredly, this verse lays upon us none other thing, than that we should do such services for others as are right and equitable." (page 259).)

Of course, ridding myself of selfishness is, if anything, even MORE difficult than doing for others all that I, in my selfishness, wish they would do for me. There is some chance I could come close on "doing for others" -- I could give away all that I have and spend every waking moment trying to serve those around me. But how can I get rid of my own selfishness?

Ultimately, I can't, and I'm pointed back to the gospel of grace. But, Chalmers' insight into the internal logic of the golden rule has helped me to turn the focus from my outward deeds (how much money did I give last year, and how many people did I help out unselfishly?) to my inward brokenness (why do I want my neighbor to give me half his fortune? why do I enjoy a "free lunch" so much? why do I not really feel like it's more blessed to give than to receive? why do I get angry at other drivers who don't get out of my way?). And how can I work on putting these attitudes away and defeating them?

It's as if the passage has a different emphasis for me now. Before, I heard Jesus saying, "How much should you do for others? Well, think about how much you'd like them to do for you. Now, DO THAT MUCH." Now, I hear a different emphasis: "How much should you do for others? Well, you're really missing the point here. There are specific laws of God about helping people in particular contexts, and you know about those, and we could talk about specifics. But it would do you more good to think about this -- all God really wants is for you to do for other people the reasonable service that you, as a fellow human being, expect from them toward yourself. That's all. Oh? You expect a lot from others, do you? It sounds to me like we've stumbled upon the real root of the problem here. Let's talk about your selfishness."

I'm aware that this could be turned around on me. After all, I've taken the focus away from others and their needs and put it back on my own self and my own needs. But I think Jesus wanted me to do that, at least some of the time:

Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,' when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother's eye.

--Luke 6:41-42

One may protest that the golden rule is about serving others, and Luke 6 is about judging others, so I'm still stuck in my loop of selfish logic. I plead guilty, of course (I already admitted I'm selfish, get it?), but I also know how easy it is for my to make my "service" to others a form of "judgment". "Here's some help, now let me give you a lecture about what you did wrong to need this help." "Here's some help, but it's conditioned on you changing your behavior." "Yes, I'll help you, but only if you'll help me feel better about myself/achieve some objective I have/let me put my name on the building."