The Closed Hand

In an article recently published in the Sentinel, there appeared this sentence: “The closed hand cannot receive.” The simple statement, almost epigrammatic in its terseness, lingered in the memory of at least one reader, and said itself over and over in her heart as she went about her daily work. “The closed hand cannot receive.” And why not? She had only to hold out her own hand, tightly closed, to understand. Some one might have been offering her the price of a king’s ransom, and yet so long as those fingers maintained their rigid clasp she could not have received it. Let her open her hand, however, and hold it out, palm upward, as in the act of giving, and that very change of attitude, simple though it was, placed her at once in a position to receive.

As she pondered these things a picture which hangs in a certain dearly-loved reading-room flashed into her memory. It represents a group of persons standing on a lawn listening to a woman who has evidently stepped out upon a low balcony to address them. The woman is Mrs. Eddy. She stands looking out upon that sea of upturned faces, a slender figure silhouetted against the sky, the face in shadow, but what a world of eloquence there is in those outstretched hands! And the palms are upturned. Giving, giving, always giving,—and since the days of Jesus of Nazareth no one has ever received in such abundance. Yet is it not only in accord with an immutable law that she who gave so much should receive in like manner? Jesus himself said, “With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.”

Does the storehouse sometimes seem strangely empty, O troubled heart? Do we sometimes find ourselves thinking that Christian Science is not doing as much for us as it should; that we are not getting as much out of it as we ought, and wonder why we do not receive more? Before becoming unduly disturbed over this, suppose we try the experiment of taking an entirely different point of view. Instead of asking, “What is Christian Science doing for me?” suppose we ask ourselves, “What am I doing for Christian Science?” Instead of saying, “I am not getting as much as I ought,” suppose we say, “Am I giving as much as I can?” Instead of saying, “I wonder why I do not receive more?” suppose we say, “Am I making the most of what I have?”

Why should we concern ourselves as to how much we are receiving? That is God’s part, and His work is already done. Divine Love is always saying, as did the father in the parable, “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.” Since Principle and its idea are inseparable in Science, man already has all, for man is God’s reflection. The ring and the best robe have always belonged to the son, but he can use and enjoy them only as he turns to the Father, the divine Principle of his being, from whom all good proceeds. And, by the same process of reasoning, if we, today, would receive all that “the Father hath bestowed upon us,” we should ask ourselves whether or not we are making the absolute best of that good of which we are already in conscious possession. If we are honestly doing this, and giving to others as it hath been given unto us, fully, freely, out of the abundance of a grateful heart, and with no thought of recompense or reward, the clear, strong currents of a still higher understanding will flow into our lives in accordance with a law of divine reciprocity.

When Saul of Tarsus first saw the light of Truth, he did not stop to inquire what all this was to bring him, nor what return he might expect for work in the Master’s service. He simply fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” And a Christian Scientist who carries this prayer in his heart each day will find, when the evening shadows fall, that opportunities to give and to bless have come to him far beyond his fondest hopes. For it is the prayer of divine activity, which must ever find its answer. It is the prayer which longs to give, not one which murmurs because it does not receive. It is the prayer which asks to be shown the Father’s will, not one which desires to carry out its own. It is the prayer of the righteous which “availeth much.”

Self-examination is not always an agreeable occupation, nor is it the one best fitted to send us up in our own esteem, for when we dig deeply into the depths of human consciousness we sometimes bring to the surface thoughts which do not look very pretty when viewed in the honest light of day. It is, nevertheless, a purifying process which none of us can afford to neglect, for nine times out of ten when things go wrong, we have only to look within to locate the trouble. Do we feel, for instance, that we receive but scant measure of love from those around us? Let us look within and find how much love we are giving. “But,” we complain, “certain people do not even seem to like us.” Do we like them? “If ye love them which love you,” said the Master, “what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same?”

Perhaps we feel that we have been unjustly treated. What about our treatment of others? Has it invariably been characterized by a gentle charity, “broad enough to cover the whole world’s evil, and sweet enough to neutralize what is bitter in it” (Miscellaneous Writings, p. 224)? Possibly our best efforts are often unappreciated. What of other people’s best efforts? Have we always given to them the cordial “Well done!” which we ourselves have failed to hear? Many of us feel that we are frequently misunderstood. Do we always understand others? Those who happen to differ from us may yet be quite as sincere and honest in their convictions as even we ourselves; but it takes a nature rarely great to remember this. Do we hear our mistakes criticized? Before resenting this, we might profitably look back into the past and see if we can remember ever having become a self-appointed judge in Israel. Are our faults magnified and commented upon? What of other people’s faults? Have we always maintained toward them the same loving silence which we would be glad to receive in return?

Truly it is “with what measure ye mete,” dear fellow worker in the bonds of Christ. Then let each begin this day, this hour, to do something for somebody; and if the suggestion comes that one is so situated that he cannot do anything for anybody, let him talk straight back to the lying argument and send it where it belongs. No one is so poor that he cannot do something, if it is only to turn over with his foot the beetle which is struggling on its back in a garden path. It is not always money which this sad world needs. In fact, could statistics of this kind be taken, they would probably show that more people starve annually for want of love than for want of food. There may be those within sound of our voice today to whom a word of encouragement would be worth more than all the money in the world. Indeed, circumstances sometimes arise when it requires more of the real Christ-spirit to hold out a hand to a friend who stands alone and misunderstood, perhaps even for the moment disgraced in the eyes of the world, than to build a church whose spires shall reach the very heavens.

When the hungry multitude lacked bread, Jesus fed them in the wilderness, “about five thousand men, beside women and children,” but when Mary sat at his feet to learn more of Christ, Truth, he said she had chosen the one thing needful. Thus was he ever ready to give according as the human sense of need presented itself. He did not tell the starving multitude that “man shall not live by bread alone,” nor did he give to Mary of the loaves and the fishes. Can we pray too earnestly for a similar discernment, for that intelligent, wisely expressed love which is ever reaching out toward humanity in tenderest compassion, ever ready to bless, to comfort, to heal?

There was once a poor widow whom Elijah found, in time of famine, gathering sticks. When he asked her to fetch him a little water and a bit of bread, she explained that she had only a handful of meal and a little oil in a cruse. “And, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and son, that we may eat it, and die.” The same old lying argument— “too poor to give!” But what said the man of God? Did he come down under the same mesmerism, accept her point of view, and hastily take himself off in search of some one whose opportunities were obviously less limited? Not at all. On the contrary, he saw the mental attitude of the speaker, saw the closed hand holding fast to fear, doubt, self-interest, and lack of faith in God’s infinite bounty. He saw that, so far as she was concerned, the sense of famine was nowhere so great as in her own thought, and he helped her heal it in the only way which at that moment would have done the work. “Fear not,” he said, “go and do as thou hast said : but make me thereof a little cake first.” Open the closed hand. Those stiff, cramped fingers have been shut too long. Let go of all that makes for limitation. Stop doubting God and begin to supply a brother’s need out of that good of which you are already in conscious possession. The woman did as she was told, and the upturned open hand received the blessing, for we are told that “she, and he, and her house, did eat many days. And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail.”

Elijah is not here today, but God is. The same Principle which was operative then is with us now, for God is “the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever.” Then let us act as if we believed this. Let us give what we have, and give it gladly. If some beautiful new thought has unfolded to our consciousness, to shine like a star upon our ascending path, let us remember it is only as we pass on to others the blessing it has brought, that we may really make it our own. That which we gained yesterday, and give today, fits us to receive in yet greater measure tomorrow. The only man who receives nothing is the man who stands still, tightly clutching that which he has for fear of losing it.

Then let us open the closed hand. Open it wide. It should be joy enough for any one of us “to sow by the wayside for the way-weary, and trust Love’s recompense of love” (No and Yes, p.3) . That recompense is sure, but it often comes more quickly when we stop looking for it. Let us be willing to leave that part of it—the what and the when and the where—to God; and just go quietly on, forgetting self in blessing others, and leaving the future to make manifest that which is already growing clearer to us each day, each hour, that we cannot lose by giving.