November 19, 2006

The Tenth Word: Do Not Covet
Exodus 20: 1-2, 17

According to an age-old fable, a group of hunters customarily hid their dinners in the shelter of a hollow tree before setting out in search of game. A clever fox once noticed what they did, so he spied on them day after day to be certain that they never returned to the tree until several hours had passed. One morning, after watching the hunters deposit their dinners and disappear into the field, the sly fox squeezed through the tight opening in the tree and ate and ate till he could eat no more. Finally, groggy and bloated, he decided to make his way home.

Alarmingly, as he attempted to squeeze himself through the hole in the tree, the fox discovered that he was now too plump to fit. No matter how hard he tried and how much he squirmed, the chunky fox just could not manage to escape. “Help me!” “Help me!” he cried out to his friends. “I’ve eaten so much that I can’t get out of the tree.” “There is only one thing you can do,” responded one of his friends. “You’ll have to wait until you grow thin enough to escape. In the meantime, pray that the hunters do not return without a trophy!”

We are all part fox, aren’t we? We want so much of what we see. And once we have tasted, we often don’t know when to stop. And by the time we realize just how bloated we are, we can’t seem to escape. We’re trapped, not in a tree, but in an endless cycle of wanting, taking, striving, competing, accumulating and achieving. It’s exhausting, isn’t it—trying to keep us with the Joneses? And it often feels hopeless when we struggle to squeeze back through the hole in the trap. Wait a minute. Catch your breath. This tenth and final commandment is a gift from God to all of us—a word of relief, an invitation to get off of the conveyor belt: “Do not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor.”

It is quite natural, of course, for us to desire certain things in life. We all want a place to live, food on the table, a job that we enjoy, and family and friends with whom to journey through life. To desire is to be human, and seeking to satisfy our basic desires is not ungodly in and of itself. God himself gives us desires, dreams and drive. Of central importance, however, are these questions: what do we desire and to what extent do we desire it? For in the same way that the fox’s legitimate longing for food led him to gorge himself on the hunters’ suppers, so might our natural desires run amuck and lead us into coveting.

Coveting, stated simply, involves a craving for someone or something that does not belong to us. And coveting, so far as I can tell, typically grows out of three fundamental urges—the urge for the beautiful, the urge for the valuable and the urge for the beneficial. When we notice something beautiful, we long to embrace it. When we notice something valuable, we want to possess it. And when we notice something beneficial, we yearn to control it. And if left unchecked, these otherwise understandable attractions and desires develop into full-blown coveting. The Bible itself provides far more than enough examples.

We might, first of all, covet what is beautiful—the latest fashions, landscaped houses, and even beautiful people. Recall for a moment a man named Amnon, whose story is recorded for us in 2 Samuel 13. Amnon had a half-sister, Tamar, who was—and the writer confirms this—gorgeous! Now there is nothing unusual about noticing an attractive person. We are, after all, human. Even my grandfather, among the godliest people I have ever known, once said to me, “The day I stop noticing a beautiful girl is the day I die!” But Amnon’s appreciation for the beautiful went far beyond mere admiration. So infatuated was Amnon with Tamar that he became tormented—he could think of no one else. Finally, in sheer desperation, he lay down, pretending to be sick, and asked that Tamar be permitted to bring him food to eat. When she finally arrived, Amnon’s lust overwhelmed him, and he raped her. Coveting the beautiful.

We might, furthermore, covet what is valuable—choice real estate, flourishing stocks and bonds, precious jewelry, expensive cars. Do you remember that infamous character, Achan, who accompanied the rest of the Israelites into battle against the people of Jericho? Prior to that battle, the Lord had specifically instructed the entire community to break with tradition and to leave all of the booty—the goods of Jericho—untouched. Achan, unfortunately, found some prized pieces just too tempting to resist: “…when I saw among the spoil a beautiful mantle from Shinar, and two hundred shekels of silver (about 6 pounds!), and a bar of gold weighing fifty shekels, then I coveted them and took them” (Josh. 7:21). Coveting the valuable.

And finally, we might covet what promises to be beneficial—skills, equipment, power and position. In 2 Samuel 15:1-6, Absalom desperately wanted to replace his father, David, as king over Israel. All he could think about was serving in the highest position in the land. Climbing the corporate ladder. Making a name for himself. One day, Absalom stood beside the gate of the city and talked to all of the passers-by. “What are your needs and wishes?” he asked each of them. “If I were king,” he continued, “I would do far better for you than David does.” And, the writer informs us, “Absalom stole the hearts of the people of Israel.” Coveting the beneficial.

In his book, Let Your Life Speak, Parker Palmer, a well-known and, I might add, thoroughly insightful educator, recalls a time when he was offered the presidency of a certain college. In hopes of discerning what he ought to do, Palmer initiated a time-honored Quaker practice and gathered several of his Quaker friends around him. As they listened and occasionally talked, one of his friends asked, “Why do you want to be a college president?” “Because I don’t like what I am now doing,” Palmer responded. Moments later, another friend asked much the same question. Again Palmer answered, “Because I am tired of the same old stuff.” After this exchange went on for some time, one friend spoke up: “Whenever we ask you why you want to be a college president, you tell us of something that you don’t like about what you are currently doing. Now, tell us why you want to be a college president.” In obvious frustration, Palmer nearly shouted, “Because I want to see my picture in the newspaper along with my name and the title, President!” And in that moment, he decided to turn down the job.

Urges for the beautiful, the valuable, the beneficial. They are natural, but if left unattended, they grow like ragweed and soon overwhelm us. They can lead us to commit formerly unthinkable acts. They can wreak havoc, not only on the infested individual, but on the community as a whole. These desires—these urges—need to be monitored, controlled, and at times even killed. And so we read, “Do not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor.”

Of the Ten Commandments, this tenth word is particularly noteworthy for at least two reasons. For one thing, it moves beyond the others in that it probes more deeply into the inner recesses of the human heart. While the other commandments prohibit particular actions, this closing commandment probes our attitudes and longings.

Jesus, you will recall, did precisely the same thing in the Sermon on the Mount when he internalized many of the Ten Commandments (Matt. 5:21-30). “You have heard it said, ‘Do not kill.’ But I say to you, ‘Do not even call another person a fool.’ You have heard it said, ‘Do not commit adultery.’ But I say to you, ‘Do not undress a person of the opposite sex in your mind.’” Jesus goes beneath the surface, and so does this tenth commandment. Similarly, both Jesus and Paul single out this tenth commandment and suggest that it serves as the very foundation for the Christian life itself. In Luke 12:13-15, Jesus responds to an unnamed person in the crowd, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Paul likewise informed both the Ephesians and Colossians that greed or covetousness are forms of idolatry that must be put to death. Both Jesus and Paul, then, refuse to equate material wealth or earthly power with devotion to God—they reject the so-called “prosperity gospel”—and in so doing echo this tenth commandment. “It is much more important,” Joseph Fitzmyer suggests, “to be rather than to have,” to listen to and follow God’s word than to live in abundance or with influence. According to this final commandment, God cares not only about what we do, but about what we think and who we are.

In a related sense, this final commandment is also noteworthy because of its apparent connection to those that precede it. This tenth word is, quite clearly, a summary of or even climax to the Ten Commandments because of the way coveting often leads to the destructive acts prohibited in the prior commandments. Jesus, you will recall, announced that what we do flows out of who we are inside (Matt. 12:34-35). This commandment says much the same thing. Commentators have long noted the connection between coveting and those commandments that relate to our conduct toward other people. Coveting someone’s possessions might lead to stealing. Coveting someone’s position or power might lead to bearing false witness. And coveting another person might lead to adultery or even murder. Just recall David’s fling with Bathsheba. When David saw Bathsheba bathing across the street, he initiated a process that led to his sleeping with her, manipulating her husband, and finally killing him—adultery, false witness and murder.

But what we sometimes fail to see is the profound relationship between coveting and the opening commandments that focus on our relationship with God. When we covet possessions or power, for example, we might very well disregard the Sabbath and work incessantly to get what we want. When we crave for someone or something, we in essence fashion them into false gods that we worship. And when we use our energy and resources in hopes of finding satisfaction in things of the world, we do nothing less than violate the first commandment upon which the others rest—we put other gods before the Lord. This, I think, is the very heart of the problem. Coveting things of the world deadens our longing for God in much the same way that sugar deadens our appetites for nourishing food. We become addicted, if you will, to the small stuff and far less interested in what is vitally important—God.

So how might we begin to put coveting and greed to death, as Paul instructs us to do? Here are a few simple suggestions. First, we must prayerfully distinguish between our wants and our needs. As Karl Marx rightly predicted, our modern, technological world produces far more stuff than anyone could possibly need. With this increase in production, marketers have been given the task of convincing us consumers that we actually need things that are essentially useless and lifeless. With it all, our list of needs continues to expand, typically leaving us less and less content with what we have. We must be more discerning in this consumeristic world of ours.

Second, we must be alert to and guard our vulnerable points. If we tend to covet fancier cars and grander houses, why spend time watching Home Improvement or reading through Car and Driver? If we have an endless craving for more and more clothing, why spend our free time walking and hanging out in the mall? Why expose ourselves to excessive stimulation in those areas where our cravings are most severe?

Third, we must intentionally shift our focus when we compare ourselves to other people. When we play the comparison game, we inevitably compare ourselves with people who have more than we do or who occupy positions that we would ourselves love to have. Comparing ourselves with the “haves” only reinforces our urges for more. Instead, we must be thoroughly aware of those who have less than we do—less money, less prestige, less power. Comparing ourselves to those who have less than we do cultivates gratitude and generosity rather than greed.

And finally, we must begin weaning ourselves from our attachments to things of the world. I mentioned a moment ago the analogy between coveting and eating. When I eat too much sugar or fat, my body comes to crave them. You know what I mean, don’t you?!? And at those times, good food tends to look less and less desirable. When that happens, a few days of fasting often helps to restore the body’s balance. I can almost feel the junk leaving my body and my interest in good food returning.

It works much the same way in our spiritual lives. When we repeatedly attempt to satisfy our deepest longings with things of the world—when we crave the beautiful, valuable, or beneficial—our longing for God lessens. But as we fast from them—as we detach ourselves from spiritual sugar and fat—we sense again a profound longing for and reattachment to God.

The Apostle Paul phrased this process of detachment and reattachment beautifully in his letter to the Colossians. “If you have been raised with Christ,” he wrote,
seek those things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God (3:1-3).
So it is with this tenth and final commandment. God has not only delivered us, his people, from slavery. He has delivered us to himself. Why drool over earthly stuff? Why settle for so little? God alone can satisfy the deepest longings of the human heart. And he will if we will only let him.








PAGE


PAGE 3