The Word Abused . . .

Restoration Review · 1975-76
(Volumes 17, 18)


PREFACE

In his provocative little essay entitled How Much Land Does a Man Need”, Leo Tolstoy introduces us to a Russian peasant named Pakhom, who was satisfied with his modest way of life until the Devil moved in to tempt him. The temptation stemmed from a conversation that he overheard between his wife and her older sister who was visiting from the city. The older woman was a merchant’s wife who boasted of her gala life in the city. Not only did she dine well, she told her peasant sister, but took drives in the park, attended the theatre, and dressed her family elegantly. This really did not bother the younger sister, for she was persuaded that she had enough to live happily. But Pakhom, who was listening from behind the stove, was convinced that the life of a peasant was the life of folly. “Our one trouble is so little land,” he said. If I only had as much land as I wanted, I shouldn’t be afraid of anyone, even of the Devil.”

Tolstoy has the Devil listening to Pakhom just as Pakhom was listening to the women. Says the Devil to himself, as if to Pakhom: “I will give you a lot of land. I’ll get you through the land.” The Devil was especially eager for a victory since Pakhom had boasted that if he had enough land he would not even fear the Devil.

The story goes on to show how Pakhom through hard work and careful planning began to accumulate small pieces of property next to his own, and then larger pieces. He always wanted just the land next to his own! He could not get enough, even when he had far more than he dreamed of possessing. The story reaches its climax when he hears of a place in a remote part of Russia that made unusual deals for large holdings of property. Pakhom had to go.

The deal that the Bashkirs made him was that for 1,000 florins he could have all the land he could encircle in a day. They sold land by the day, they explained. not by the acre! The only stipulation was that he had to be back to the starting point before the sun goes down.

The former peasant who was now a rich man and on the verge of being even richer was delighted. He could hardly sleep that night. anticipating all the land that would be transferred into his name the next day. He was at the starting point at the break of day, along with the Bashkirs who supplied him with a hoe with which to mark the corners of the property as he made his turns.

The land was more attractive than Pakhom had imagined. He just had to include the next hill in his circle of new property. On and on he went before marking his first turn. He cautioned himself not to be greedy and to make sure that he had plenty of time to get back before sunset. But the sun seemed to race across the sky, and he was feint of heart to realize he may have gone too far. Tolstoy’s description of Pakhom working his way back, struggling and panting and sweating and discarding most of his clothing in the mad scramble, would depict many a modern business man in his frantic race for the dollar.

Pakhom was sure he had blown it when he saw that the sun still shone up the hill where the Bashkirs were waiting. He gave it his last spurt of energy and reached the goal just as the sun sank. The leading Bashkir offered his congratulations on what a fine piece of property he had gained when he noticed blood trickling from Pakhom’s mouth. He fell over dead. The Bashkirs expressed their regret and walked away, while Pakhom’s servant took the hoe and measured off seven feet by two and dug his grave.

That’s how much land a man really needs, Tolstoy is telling us.

That story always does something to my philosophy students, and it should also do something to those of us who lead God’s community on earth and who presume to publish journals that profess to serve His cause. What are our real needs, after all? How much wealth does the church need in order to fulfill its mission? Might it already have too many dollars and not enough commitment? Do we yield to Satan’s temptation, like Pakhom did, and measure values quantitatively rather than qualitatively? To be like Jesus is the quality of the Christian faith. What we are otherwise and what we have is relatively unimportant. But Christlikeness is not always seen as the summum bonum by either churches or papers.

This is the eighth bound volume that we have presented to the public, and they cover eleven years of Restoration Review. Whatever value this journal may have is best preserved in book form. There is no question but what future generations will be reading all of us who dare to preserve what we have written. It may be too much to hope that what we say now will be of particular help to them then, and yet each generation seems to be passing the torch to the next generation. At least we should say such things now that it will be evident to future generations that we spoke to the problems and dealt with the possibilities of our time.

The scriptures say that David served his own generation according to the will of God and then fell asleep. That is an especially fitting guideline for editors, not the falling asleep as much as the rest of it, for the falling asleep has a way of taking care of itself. If we can but serve our own generation according to the will of God, that should be enough. Pakhom’s tragedy was not in dying prematurely, but in missing the point of life. He served himself rather than those who needed him. He lost his perspective. Land became his god. It can happen to any of us when we confuse the means with the end.

It is a double tragedy when we abuse not only ourselves and our loved ones, but the scriptures themselves. And it is most inexcusable when this is done for the sake of sectarian loyalty. Our theme in this volume is The Word Abused, and it is our hope that our modest contribution to the solution of this problem will cause at least a few of us to handle the scriptures with even greater care than the surgeon does the scalpel.