You’ve probably heard the story of King Midas and the golden touch. According to myth, Midas was king of Phrygia, and, having done a favor for the god Bacchus, was granted a reward of his choosing. Midas said, “Grant that whatever I touch with my body be turned into glistening gold” (Ovid, Metamorphoses, XI.102-103). Bacchus reluctantly assented, granting him this gift that would only harm him. Midas went his way, “glad at the harm” (gaudet malo; XI.106), though he was yet to realize that it was indeed a harm and not a good. He touched a twig and it became gold. He touched a stone and it became gold. A dirt clod, ripe ears of grain, an apple: they all became gold. He touched the columns of his house and they shone gold. He washed his hands, and the water turned to liquid gold.
But when he sat down to dine, his happiness quickly faded. He picked up bread, raised it to his mouth, and bit gold. He took a drink of wine, the beverage of Bacchus, and filled his mouth with molten gold. He was now rich and miserable (divesque miserque; XI.127). “He wishes to flee riches and hates that which he had just asked” (XI.128). He is starving and parched, yet knows it is his own fault he is tortured by gold. He prays to Bacchus, “Grant pardon. We have sinned, but have mercy, I pray, and rescue me from this splendid misery!” (da veniam…peccavimus…sed miserere, precor, speciosoque eripe damno; XI.132-133).
“The gods are lenient” (so Ovid claims), and Bacchus tells Midas how he can rid himself of this evil that had seemed so good: Midas must swim the Pactolus River upstream to its source, there immerse himself in the water, and thus, “Wash away your sin” (elue crimen; XI.141). The Pactolus had its source on Mount Tmolus, which was over 100 miles from the kingdom of Phrygia and has an elevation of over 7,000 feet. Nevertheless, Midas accomplished the feat, washed off the golden touch into the river, and ever after despised wealth.
For good reason this cautionary tale has been a staple in the Western literary canon for centuries. Aristotle references the story in his Politics (4th century BC; 1.1257b). Ovid included a full telling in his Metamorphoses (AD 8; Bk. XI). Nathaniel Hawthorne, perhaps more well-known for writing The Scarlet Letter, also included a retelling of “The Golden Touch” in A Wonder Book (1851), which some of the students are reading this year. If you happen to have The Book of Virtues, edited by William J. Bennett (1993), you can find an adapted version of Hawthorne on pages 63-66. And what exactly do we learn from this story that makes it worth the retelling?
First, we see illustrated the old adage, “Be careful what you wish for.” It is part of our fallen human nature to see something harmful as good. How many children would gladly eat ice cream and cake for breakfast, lunch, and supper, then find a night of regret as they curl up in bed with stomach aches? And that’s a very mild example compared with the unfounded optimism men have about wealth, power, fame, and feeding their appetites with food and pleasure. Since our sinful flesh will mislead us in these matters, we must heed the Word of God, which teaches us to see such things rightly.
Second (which I suppose is but one example of the previous point, but specifically demonstrated in the story), “the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows” (1 Tim. 6:10). We can put Midas in the same category as the rich man in Luke 16 who was clothed in purple and fine linen, feasted sumptuously every day, and neglected Lazarus. Could the man’s riches, which he loved so much, forgive his sins or save him from hell? No, in the end they could not save him. He had a false faith in a false god, and the god of gold always disappoints.
Third, after reading the story of Midas (not Hawthorne’s tame version, but Ovid’s), we thank our God that He is not like Bacchus or any other figment of man’s fallen mind. The pagan has no true concept of mercy. Ovid calls the gods “lenient” or “kindly,” but what does the “lenient” Bacchus do? He tells a man that his sin will only be washed away if he makes a hundred-mile journey and swims up a mountain, all the while not eating or drinking! Contrast this with Scripture. King David, after committing adultery with Bathsheba and murdering Uriah, confesses to Nathan the prophet, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Nathan immediately says, “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die” (2 Sam. 12:13). Confession, then Absolution! Without delay and apart from our works, the Lord has mercy and forgives sin for the sake of His holy precious blood and His innocent suffering and death. The thief on the cross says, “Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom,” and Jesus at once responds, “Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise” (Lk. 23:42-43). When the Lord brought Saul to repentance, He didn’t make him swim up a mountain to wash away his sin, but said through His servant Ananias, “Arise and be baptized, and wash away your sins, calling on the name of the Lord” (Acts 22:16). Jesus is truly lenient and kindly, as surely as He Himself descended from heaven and came as a man, not demanding that we make an impossible journey upward to Him, but coming downstream with all His grace and mercy to us.
In Christ,
Pastor Richard
