“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you . . .”  – Matthew 7:12 

The Golden Rule is almost universally accepted as the ideal for how we should live and treat others.  There was a time, in fact, I thought modeling the Golden Rule was the magic formula for effective leadership (as if I had been the first one to ever think of that).  While it’s a good idea and certainly one of the essential ingredients in good leadership, I quickly discovered that expecting the Golden Rule to be the ONLY ingredient necessary for effective leadership led to disappointing results.  Why?  As much as the Golden Rule seems to be an easy concept, it is difficult to follow.

What took me a long time to figure out is that there are two sides to the Golden Rule.  One is the obvious, that is treating others as we would have them treat us.  The other has to do with how we, and others, respond to such treatment.  That’s where the disappointing results occur when the one receiving the gracious and generous treatment does not respond by appreciating, reciprocating, or imitating.

One of the parables of Jesus describes a servant who owed his king an enormous sum of money.  About to be thrown into prison for defaulting on the debt the servant begged for mercy, for which the king out of pity graciously cancelled the servant’s debt.  “But when that servant went out,” scripture says, “he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii” (a small fraction of what he had owed the king), and unlike the king he refused to forgive the fellow servant his debt and had him thrown into prison.  (Ref. Matthew 18:23-35)  Here is an example of someone who was the recipient of the Golden Rule, yet when the opportunity arose to imitate, did just the opposite.

Haven’t we all been disappointed or hurt by the lack of response we received from following the Golden Rule.  But how many times have we failed – or refused like the ungrateful servant – to respond in the same way?  The Golden Rule is the ideal for how we should live and treat others, but it is effective only when we treat others according to it, AND respond when treated likewise.

“The Lord will indeed give what is good, and our land will yield its harvest.”

• Psalm 85:12 

In the small northwest Texas community where I was raised I always knew when harvest time arrived.  Cotton being the major crop in that area meant that harvest time began, and still does, in early fall about two months prior to Thanksgiving, often extending well into December.  I did not quite experience the harvest first-hand by working in the fields like many of my schoolmates did, as farming was not our family’s primary business.  Nevertheless, I knew harvest time had begun when, almost simultaneous with the arrival of the first cold front, the whole atmosphere of the town would change with the constant hum of the cotton gins that could be heard from anyone’s backyard, and the distinctive smell of smoke wafting over the community from the gins’ adjacent incinerators that burned the hulls and stems from which the cotton fibers were extracted.

In an agricultural community like my hometown the harvest means everything, not just to the farmers, but literally every person, business, and service provider.  The bankers receive loan repayments, merchants who at one time extended credit throughout the year get repaid, bank accounts are fattened, and money becomes available for purchase of all sorts of necessities, and even a few luxuries.  Likewise, a crop failure could be devastating for the entire community and region.  Everything depends on the harvest.  It is the lifeblood of the economy.

This week we celebrate Thanksgiving, established as a day of giving thanks and sacrifice for the blessing of the harvest.  As the majority of us in our urbanized society are no longer engaged directly in agriculture, we often feel disconnected from it, notwithstanding our appreciation of those who produce the food that goes on our tables.  Instead, our harvests come in different forms.  While farmers must depend on proper amounts of rain and sunshine, and protection from hailstorms, floods, insects, or plant diseases, the rest of us depend on the viability of our employers, the loyalty of our customers and clients, the protection of our communities, homes, and families from disease or injury.  In other words, in whatever form it takes we all depend on the harvest.  May we never lose faith that “the Lord will indeed give what is good, and our land will yield its harvest.”  And may we take a moment this week to give thanks for harvest time.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.”  –  Philippians 2:3 

In one of the meditations from her book An Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor tells the story about one of the Desert Fathers, from among the legendary third century monks who escaped into the wilderness to live simple solitary lives, whose tiny cell was once invaded by robbers who announced they had come to steal the few possessions he had.  “My sons,” responded the gentle monk, “take all you want.”  After they had stuffed everything they could find in their bags, they started off.  But when the monk saw that they had left a little bundle hidden from view, he picked it up and chased after them.  “My sons, take this, you forgot it in the cell!” he shouted.

Now I don’t know about you, but if I were inclined to chase after thieves who had broken into my home and absconded with my stuff it would be to get it back and maybe teach them a lesson or two, not to hand over more.  You see, I’m pretty attached to my possessions, which I had after all worked hard to acquire, and not just the expensive treasures either, but ordinary household items as well.  (I’m still hoarding toilet paper from the pandemic induced scarcity that occurred eighteen months ago.)  These things belong to me not some thief who did nothing to earn them like I did, right?

The Desert Father apparently didn’t see it that way.  Instead, he was simply following the teaching of Jesus that if someone wants to take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well, as in “here, you forgot something when you were stealing me blind, take this too.”  Makes no sense, does it?  Except, the conclusion of the story is that the thieves were so amazed by the monk’s humility that they brought everything back and returned it. 

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit,” the Apostle Paul wrote, “but in humility consider others better than yourselves.” Based on that, all I can figure is the monk must have believed the thieves needed his possessions more than he did – unlike me who guards his treasures (and still hoards toilet paper).  Barbara Brown Taylor added another tidbit I had not considered, one that is common among all the great wisdom traditions, “that the main impediment to living a life of meaning is being self-absorbed.”  The Desert Father obviously did not suffer that impediment.

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.”

• James 1:19 

Upon his arrival home from work one day a father discovered the front window of his home shattered to smithereens, and there in the yard lay the evidence, a baseball bat and ball.  So without further investigation the father stormed into the house, found his young son, and was just about to administer the punishment he obviously deserved for what appeared to be an open and shut case . . . until his wife walked in with the boy next door in tow who had confessed to the whole incident.

For many years during my Wall Street career I served as an arbitrator in the industry when disputes arose between two parties.  The way the arbitration system works, arbitrators receive in advance a written detailed explanation of the claim from the claimant (plaintive) as well as a detailed response from the respondent (defendant).  After reading the claim and response I would invariably conclude that it was an open and shut case in need of no further investigation . . . that is, until I listened to the testimonies on the actual day of the hearing.  Without fail my initial conclusion would be proven wrong.

It was an open and shut case as well, so thought Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar.  Why else would Job have lost everything he had – his family, wealth and health – unless he was being punished by God for some undisclosed sin he had committed?  All the evidence they needed was in plain sight, Job sitting on an ash heap, clothes ripped to shreds, head shaved, his body covered with painful sores.  No need for further investigation, as Job’s three “friends” accusingly rushed to his side in their respective attempts to convince him to confess (to something he did not do).  And if things were not bad enough for poor Job, he was forced to defend himself in kangaroo court where Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar presided as the self-appointed – not to mention self-righteous – judges.

We’ve all been there on one side or the other, either the one falsely accused or the one judging without further investigation.  What a difference listening makes!  “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.”

“Remember not the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways.”  – Psalm 25:7 

My hairline began receding at an early age, shortly after graduating high school and going off to college.  Slowly and gradually over the years it has matured into a perfect horseshoe-shaped bald spot framed around the edges by a remnant of gray hair which I keep meticulously trimmed.

Since I have always known I was genetically inclined, being bald has never bothered me.  If fact, I’m sort of fond of the attention I receive, the teasing and nicknames, especially nowadays from my grandchildren.  There was even a time back in my twenties and thirties when I was convinced that if my face and scalp were well tanned it gave me great sex appeal, so I spent a lot of time in the sun without protection.  Today I’m paying the price, mostly in frequent trips to the dermatologist. . . Gee, I wish I hadn’t done that!

We all have skeletons in our closets, don’t we, things we did when we were young that (in the spirit of Halloween) haunt us?  I certainly do, most too shameful and embarrassing to mention, my sun-damaged scalp being one of the few I’m willing to admit out loud.

How often are we like King David, praying please, please, please, “remember not the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways.”  And by God’s grace we are indeed forgiven of those poor choices we made.  But while God may forgive us, and we may even forgive ourselves, seldom do we forget what we had done.  “Gee, I wish I hadn’t done that!” we cry out in regret.

Sometimes, though, I think our remembering the sins and rebellious ways of our youth is as much a part of God’s grace as His forgiveness of them.  How much more judgmental and lacking compassion would I be toward others, I wonder, had I not erred so often myself?  And what kind of parent would I have been had I not made mistakes and poor choices in my own life?  Gee, I still wish I hadn’t done those things, though.  But, O how masterfully God in his grace redeems our sins and shortcomings, either through our encouragement of others to not make those same mistakes, or having enough compassion to rescue them when they do.