The Way of Love (Part 2 of 2)
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| (Ronald Knox - found here) |
He begins by telling his disciples that unless their justice gives better measure than that of the scribes and Pharisees, they shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. That sounds strong; that sounds formidable to start with. And then he proceeds to illustrate that by referring to different points of the moral law in detail, catching up the echoes of Mount Sinai and refashioning its code all through. ‘It was said to the men of old, Thou shalt do no murder; but I tell you that any man who is angry with his brother must answer for it before the court of justice... . It was said, Thou shalt not commit adultery. But I tell you that he who casts his eyes on a woman so as to lust after her has already committed adultery with her in his heart... . It was said to the men of old, Thou shalt not perjure thyself; but I tell you that you should not bind yourselves by any oath at all. Let your word be Yes for Yes, and No for No... . It was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, but I tell you that you should not offer resistance to injury; if a man strikes thee on thy right cheek turn the other cheek also towards him... . It was said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thy enemy, but I tell you, Love your enemies.’ The phrases are familiar enough; what are we to make of them?
At first sight it looks, doesn’t it, as if the law given from the mount of the Beatitudes differed from the law given from Mount Sinai only in being more stringent, more exacting, in setting up a whole new code of prohibitions, which are to make the path of duty much more complicated and much more arduous for us Christians than it ever was for the Jews under the Old Dispensation. For them, no murder, for us, every outburst of temper is a grievous sin; for them, no adultery, for us, every glance perhaps a necessary matter of confession; for them, no perjury, for us, no formulas of solemn undertaking; for them, no unjust advantage over one who had wronged them, for us, no right even to protest against an injury. Can our Lord really have meant that? Why then does he tell us that his yoke is easy and his burden light when, demonstrably, he is asking more of us than he asked of those who went before?
The answer—you will have guessed it already—is that what our Lord means to contrast here is not so much the content of the two moral laws, his own and that of Moses, as the spirit in which he wants his law to be kept and the spirit in which the law of Moses was kept at that day—the spirit, unfortunately, in which both the law of Moses and the law of the gospel are kept, even now, by all too many of us, inside the Church and out of it. Moses, he says, assumes that the people for whom he is legislating, the children of the Old Covenant, will want to take every advantage they possibly can, will have to be tied down with a series of hard and fast definitions to keep their natural appetites, somehow, in check. But I am legislating for the children of the gospel, and the children of the gospel will not need, ought not to need, this series of prohibitions, because they will not want to do harm; they will love the good for its own sake. They will not need laws telling them not to murder people, because the very emotion of hatred will find no lodging, or no fixed lodging, in their hearts. No need to caution them against adultery, because they will love purity and have no eyes for what is forbidden them. No need to warn them about the solemn nature of an oath, and the wickedness of perjury; if they have said a thing, they will want to be as good as their word; in their simplicity it will not occur to them to do otherwise. No need to forbid unjust retaliation; the very idea of retaliation will be foreign to their outlook; loving me, they will love their fellow-men, my children, and be always wanting to give and to forgive. He needs no dangerposts who walks steadily in the way of love.
Picture to yourself a boat moored in the open sea, the sport of winds and tides. It is moored securely enough; it does not drift away and get lost. But it is continually being forced this way and that, farther and farther, until suddenly the rope tightens and it is pulled up with a jerk, only to cruise off in another direction and get pulled up with a jerk again. That jerk, you know, is not good for it; it is testing the strength of the rope and gradually fretting it away. Let that be our image of a soul which serves God only by the way of duty. All the time it is being drifted this way and that by the tides of its own corrupt nature, by the winds of bad example and bad company. It seems as if it must be swept away into sinful courses—but no, the rope pulls it up at the last moment, the rope of obedience; and so it cruises off until the rope of obedience is needed to pull it up again. Once more, that jerk of the rope is not good for it; the resistance is being gradually fretted away. And now think of the same boat moored in a safe harbour. It is moored, just in case anything should go wrong, but as a matter of fact the moorings are never submitted to any strain; it rides peacefully in the calm waters, never moving this way or that sufficiently to draw the rope taut. Let that be our image of a soul which serves God by the way of love. The commandments are there, the spirit of obedience is there, but it is not called upon to act; the soul is no longer at the mercy of wind or tide, that it should need the warning tug of the rope to keep it in position; it rides securely on that calm surface, the love of Jesus Christ.
But, you say, most Christians can never hope to attain anywhere near such perfection as that. Well, it is true as a matter of observation that most Christians don’t. But then, I’m sorry to say, most Christians seem to be content with the very minimum that is asked of them in the way of worship and of spiritual exercises. Most Christians never read a spiritual book of any sort; most Christians don’t go into retreat after they leave school; most Christians are content to rush into the confessional at the last moment and never seriously consult a priest about the state of their souls; most Christians would look at you with surprise if you suggested that it was possible for an ordinary layman to make a meditation; most Christians allow about five minutes for thanksgiving after Communion, instead of kneeling on a little and affording our Lord the opportunity he wants to visit them with his inspirations. There are such a lot of things most Christians don’t do. And so they drag on, with the cross of duty laboriously carried on their unwilling shoulders; are they meant to be serving God like that? Are you meant to be serving God like that? Let us ask him, if he will not teach us, instead, the way of love.”
~Ronald Knox (excerpt from A Retreat for Lay People - Chapter: “The Way of Love”)
Picture to yourself a boat moored in the open sea, the sport of winds and tides. It is moored securely enough; it does not drift away and get lost. But it is continually being forced this way and that, farther and farther, until suddenly the rope tightens and it is pulled up with a jerk, only to cruise off in another direction and get pulled up with a jerk again. That jerk, you know, is not good for it; it is testing the strength of the rope and gradually fretting it away. Let that be our image of a soul which serves God only by the way of duty. All the time it is being drifted this way and that by the tides of its own corrupt nature, by the winds of bad example and bad company. It seems as if it must be swept away into sinful courses—but no, the rope pulls it up at the last moment, the rope of obedience; and so it cruises off until the rope of obedience is needed to pull it up again. Once more, that jerk of the rope is not good for it; the resistance is being gradually fretted away. And now think of the same boat moored in a safe harbour. It is moored, just in case anything should go wrong, but as a matter of fact the moorings are never submitted to any strain; it rides peacefully in the calm waters, never moving this way or that sufficiently to draw the rope taut. Let that be our image of a soul which serves God by the way of love. The commandments are there, the spirit of obedience is there, but it is not called upon to act; the soul is no longer at the mercy of wind or tide, that it should need the warning tug of the rope to keep it in position; it rides securely on that calm surface, the love of Jesus Christ.
But, you say, most Christians can never hope to attain anywhere near such perfection as that. Well, it is true as a matter of observation that most Christians don’t. But then, I’m sorry to say, most Christians seem to be content with the very minimum that is asked of them in the way of worship and of spiritual exercises. Most Christians never read a spiritual book of any sort; most Christians don’t go into retreat after they leave school; most Christians are content to rush into the confessional at the last moment and never seriously consult a priest about the state of their souls; most Christians would look at you with surprise if you suggested that it was possible for an ordinary layman to make a meditation; most Christians allow about five minutes for thanksgiving after Communion, instead of kneeling on a little and affording our Lord the opportunity he wants to visit them with his inspirations. There are such a lot of things most Christians don’t do. And so they drag on, with the cross of duty laboriously carried on their unwilling shoulders; are they meant to be serving God like that? Are you meant to be serving God like that? Let us ask him, if he will not teach us, instead, the way of love.”
~Ronald Knox (excerpt from A Retreat for Lay People - Chapter: “The Way of Love”)
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