The self-forgetfulness of love

In Dietrich Bonhoeffer's study of the Sermon on the Mount, he discusses the extraordinary quality of the Christian disciple's life and the seeming contradiction that the disciples are to be the light of the world but at the same time should not make their Christian life visible. How do these two ideas go together? In explaining this, Bonhoeffer says something profound about the character of love itself.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer and confirmands, 1932

"From whom are we to hide the visibility of our discipleship? Certainly not from other men, for we are told to let them see our light. No. We are to hide it from ourselves. Our task is simply to keep on following, looking only to our Leader who goes on before, taking no notice of ourselves or of what we are doing. We must be unaware of our own righteousness, and see it only in so far as we look unto Jesus; then it will seem not extraordinary, but quite ordinary and natural. ...
     [Discipleship] means an exclusive adherence to him, and that implies first that the disciple looks only to his Lord and follows him. If he looked only at the extraordinary quality of the Christian life, he would no longer be following Christ. For the disciple this extraordinary quality consists solely in the will of the Lord, and when he seeks to do that will he knows that there is no other alternative, and that what he does is the only natural thing to do....
     The genuine work of love is always a hidden work. Take heed therefore that you know it not, for only so is it the goodness of God. If we want to know our own goodness or love, it has already ceased to be love. We must be unaware even of our love for our enemies. After all, when we love them they are no longer our enemies. This voluntary blindness in the Christian (which is really sight illuminated by Christ) is his certainty, and that fact that his life is hidden from his sight is the ground of his assurance...
    Genuine love is always self-forgetful in the true sense of the word. But if we are to have it, our old man must die with all his virtues and qualities, and this can only be done where the disciple forgets self and clings solely to Christ. When Jesus said: "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth," he was sounding the death-knell of the old man. Once again, who can live a life which combines [Matthew] chapters 5 and 6? Only those who have died after the old man through Christ and are given a new life by following him and having fellowship with him. Love, in the sense of spontaneous, unreflective action, spells the death of the old man. For man recovers his true nature in the righteousness of Christ and in his fellow-man."

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship 

(trans. R. H. Fuller. New York: Macmillan, 1963 [German: 1937]), 176-179.

How Matthew wanted to be read and proclaimed

"How can Matthew, originally functioning as a catalyst for character formation, serve this end in our time? In order to allow Matthew to function in line with its original aim, it must be read and proclaimed not as a "striver's manual" but as a "verbal icon".

"Reading and proclaiming a gospel text rightly are not acts of moralism in which the text is assumed to be law and the purpose of reading to specify what we ought to do, utilizing guild and shame to motivate the desired behavior. When this type of use of Matthew occurs, the typical sermon is essentialy "here is how bad we are because we have not done what we ought to have done". The typical accompanying prayer is essentially "forgive us for being so bad and for not being willing to do better". The typical emotion of the preacher is impatience with, and sometimes anger at, the delinquent parishioners. Underlying this approach is the assumption that if humans know what to do, they can do it. Hence failure to do so is due to conscious perversity on our part. This is no way to read or proclaim a gospel text.

"A reading and proclamation of Matthew that fits with the Gospel's original concern to enable the transformation of the character of its auditors is one that treats it as a verbal icon through which one sees into the divine realm and God's will. The purpose of such reading and proclamation is to become centered on Jesus so as to see into another world, assuming that, over time, one becomes like that which he/she contemplates. The typical sermon, then, presents Jesus in his sayings and deeds as the embodiment of the divine presence, through whom one sees into God's heart and will for us. The sermon becomes an encomium (=bragging on Jesus). The typical accompanying prayer for such a reading is, "praise you Jesus for who you are and thank you for what you have done". The typical emotion of the preacher is awe and adoration. Underlying this approach is the assumption that humans cannot do what they know to be right unless they are enabled to do so. Hence, the vision of "the good", patterned in the story of Jesus, is presented so that it can function as a catalyst for a change of our perceptions, dispositions, and intentions. When Matthew is so read and so proclaimed as a catalyst for character formation today, it is once again functioning as its first auditors would have experienced it."

Charles H. Talbert, "Matthew and Character Formation", Expository Times, 121:2 (Nov 2009) pp. 58-59.

Journey of the Magi

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (as you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

T. S. Eliot (1936)