In last Sunday’s Chicago Tribune, Ron Grossman pointed out that there are two fundamentally different philosophies that govern the United States. One can be found in the writings of Jonathan Edwards and believes that human nature has hopelessly been corrupted by sin and thus we should not expect progress. The other is embodied in Thomas Jefferson’s praise of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” and assumes an optimistic future. Grossman then argues that this accounts for the fundamental political divide in the United States. Although Jefferson and Edwards would certainly have disagreed over human nature and the influence of original sin, it may not have necessarily shown up in their politics in quite the way that Grossman suggests.
It might be useful to consider first what is meant by original sin in Christian theology. Most Christians accept the notion that humanity was corrupted by Adam’s sin and so every human being is born with a propensity to sin and to rebel against God and His rules. But there the agreement ends. The Roman Catholic Church teaches that God removes original sin through baptism. Although people may still have concupiscence (which may lead people to sin), original sin has been completed removed and moral perfection is not beyond human possibility and has indeed been attained by the saints. Similarly, the Holiness tradition in Protestantism rejects the notion that Christians are held back in any way by a sinful nature; instead they believe that they too can and must achieve moral perfection. In fact, ever since the Second Great Awakening, few Protestants (whether mainline or evangelical) have put much stock in this doctrine and have had a rather cheery view of human nature.
The real exceptions to the rule have been those Lutherans and Calvinists who have hewn more closely to their confessions rather than follow the mainline or evangelical route. Thus, a view of original sin more like that of Edwards will be found among Missouri Synod and Wisconsin Synod Lutherans, but not in the mainline Evangelical Lutheran Church in America; likewise, one will find it taught less in the mainline Presbyterian Church (USA) than in the confessional Orthodox Presbyterian Church. These Lutherans and Calvinists largely agree on original sin, though they disagree on other matters. They confess that all human beings are tainted by original sin from the moment they are conceived (cf. Psalm 51:5); even though the taint of this sin is forgiven, their sinful nature (often called “the flesh” in the Bible) continues to reside in Christians and has to be battled, even by Christians, as Romans 6-7 demonstrates. Of course, Christians also receive a new nature (Colossians 2:11-15; 3:3-4, 9-10), but that does not mean that they have to stop their struggle against their sinful nature (see Colossians 3:5-8, 12-15). In fact, as the discourse of Colossians 2-3 and Romans 6-8 teaches us, we must acknowledge that a real change occurs when a Christian is baptized, while not at the same time denying that the sinful self remains—and also the need to struggle valiantly against it.
Thus, traditional Lutherans and Calvinists teach that a human being’s actions remain tainted by selfishness, pride, rebellion, and arrogance, even after a person has come to faith in Christ. Moral perfection will take place only after we die. However, it does not follow that people are as wicked as they can be and that this is the worst of all possible worlds, morally speaking, as is often assumed by people like Grossman and other critics of the Edwardian view of original sin. It does mean, though, that there is often something selfish about even the best of our works. For example, we may help a little old lady across the street, fully expecting a merit badge or at least the acclaim of our fellow citizens (no matter how humbly we may protest).
But even as we Lutherans (and our Calvinist friends) take a rather grim view of human nature, we are also unique among Christians in separating civil righteousness from true godliness, and this is a positive advance in theology and political science. While we grant that God is offended by the pride and selfishness that often lie behind our most altruistic deeds, we recognize that other human beings rightly are not. It matters little to a community whether a neighbor is helping the little old lady across the street out of love for God or out of a desire for praise. Regardless of their motives, we want people to behave in a decent manner. Thus, we can appeal to people’s selfish instincts to avoid the pain of punishment or to garner other people’s praise and rewards, and thus we use their innate sin as a means to bring about civil concord. Thus, the fact that people are thoroughly tainted by original sin does not prevent them from doing civil righteousness at a fairly sophisticated level. What it does do is prevent them from being righteous in God’s eyes by their own efforts. That kind of godliness requires God’s grace and forgiveness.
The doctrine of original sin in our theology serves to underscore the role of God’s grace. Not only does He save those who have rejected Him all along, He also saves those who have been following Him for years, for they need His help no less than the “worst” of sinners. And so this doctrine, like most articles of faith, is formulated to help the faithful understand their relationship to God. But this article of faith could also have a beneficial influence on society if people would take it seriously, regardless of whether or not they accept the rest of our theology.
First, we would not be so quick to demonize opponents. The same original sin that exists in them exists in each of us. This is not to trivialize the distinction between right and wrong or to say that one cannot take a moral stance on a given issue. It does, however, remind us that even if we happen to be right on a moral or political issue debated by our peers, we are not thereby necessarily right with God.
At the same time, those in leadership would be better equipped to avoid falling into temptation. History is littered with leaders who thought that an ordination or election to high office or embracing a noble cause would be enough to suppress all their inner demons. As in rock climbing, those who think themselves invincible are the ones most likely to fall.
We would also avoid utopian dreaming, which invariably ends in nightmares. Because for much of American history liberals have tended to be optimistic about human nature and the possibility of constructing a perfect society while conservatives have been skeptical of such things, Grossman nearly equates belief in original sin with a conservative political view. Indeed, one can see that much of the traditional conservative agenda—the separation of powers, a preference for the local over the national, and a reluctance to change the evils we know for evils we don’t—reflects a rather negative view of human nature. But conservatives have shown themselves to be just as naïve at times in their utopianism, as if a completely unregulated market or the abolition of all taxes would solve all our problems. (Can anyone say, "Ayn Rand"?) Both conservatives and liberals would do well to stop speaking in millennialist terms.
Instead, we should adopt a more realistic agenda. We will confess that we cannot ignore today’s evils, for that would be wicked, and yet we will also recognize that today’s evils are often the unintended consequences of solutions to yesterday’s evils, and the good and necessary reforms of today will become the basis for tomorrow’s evils. Given the fixity of human nature, we will realize that we cannot banish greed, lust, sloth, arrogance, and the other evils that plague the human condition. At most, we can stop one or more expressions of those vices or keep them in check. However, we may also be able to use one vice to offset another. For example, we may encourage people to engage in the vice of pride as we urge them to make generous charitable contributions. We encourage one of their vices, their pride, in order to offset the effects of another vice, their greed. We haven’t rid them of original sin or its resultant vices, but we have encouraged them to behave in a manner more befitting society. And thus we can foster positive change in society, if only we don’t delude ourselves into thinking that civil righteousness is the kingdom of God and the absence of original sin.
© 2011 James A. Kellerman
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Two Major Belief Systems
If you were to ask most people, they would say that there are two different ways of looking at the world, one based on faith and the other based on reason and evidence. Some would say that an individual could embrace both of these systems, using faith to understand the world in religious contexts, but using reason and evidence in scientific contexts. Others would privilege one system or the other, either saying that faith has to take precedence over anything that reason might have to say or vice versa. What is interesting to observe is that Christians and non-Christians, atheists and agnostics and people of all persuasions seem to agree with this assessment. Faith (including the Christian faith) deals with a realm where human reason cannot enter the picture. Meanwhile, the Enlightenment worldview (primarily found in the sciences but not solely there) prides itself as founded on reason alone and eschews anything that might smack of faith.
And yet this is a completely inaccurate assessment. It is true that in the West there are two primary intellectual systems: that of Christianity and that of the Enlightenment. (By the Enlightenment I mean not merely the Aufklärung of the eighteenth century but the various intellectual currents that flow from it; postmodernism, for example, is not a return to a pre-modern worldview but is a continuation as well as a modification and a rejection of the modernism derived from the Aufklärung and is unthinkable without it.) Although they are not the only intellectual systems present in our country and both contain a wide variety of thought not always in perfect harmony, they do represent two rather distinct ways of looking at the universe. But people err when they assume that only one is based on faith and only the other uses reason and evidence.
In truth, both Christianity and the Enlightenment proceed from premises that must be accepted by faith, even as they both believe that there are strong arguments for accepting their own premises. Christianity teaches the existence of God and His intervention in history. It has throughout the centuries made rational arguments as to why this is so, but it has also understood that ultimately one either accepts the premise or one doesn’t. Similarly, the Enlightenment proceeds from the notion that the material universe is all that is knowable and therefore is all that exists. Moreover, it believes that anything we want to learn about this material universe can be learned by empirical observation. And while this may seem a reasonable observation, it is one that cannot be proven empirically. One has to assume by faith that we do not live in a solipsistic world or in a universe where the senses deceive us or where nature is not always consistent. Now we may argue over the axioms upon which we rely, but ultimately they either are accepted by faith or are not.
Those premises, once accepted, determine the way that the system of thought will develop. The Enlightenment, founded on a belief in materialism and empiricism, will then use the evidence found by empirical observation exclusively to determine what will be part of its teaching and what will not. But Christianity too proceeds in an analogous manner. The Christian faith starts with the belief that God exists, that mankind in its current state is tainted by original sin, that God intervened in human history through the death and resurrection of Christ, and that the Scriptures record this revelation. A Christian theologian worthy of the title will try to conserve the data of Scripture, much as an Enlightenment thinker will try to craft an interpretation that best explains all the empirical data. Most of us are familiar with the process used by scientists, but fail to recognize that Christian theologians follow a similar process. They are not crafting ideas out of whole cloth, but are logically following the methodology drawn from their premises and are trying to preserve all of their data. The difference is that their methodology sends them to the Scriptures as the most reliable source of information, while those of the Enlightenment would look at the empirical data of the latest experiment. The Enlightenment might criticize Christians for failing to restrict themselves to material observation, but Christians would argue in reply that the Enlightenment is irrational by limiting itself to only the material realm.
There is much more to say about these two major intellectual systems, but suffice it to say that the Enlightenment view is no less based on faith than Christianity is and that Christianity is no less methodical and rational in the way that it teaches the faith.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
And yet this is a completely inaccurate assessment. It is true that in the West there are two primary intellectual systems: that of Christianity and that of the Enlightenment. (By the Enlightenment I mean not merely the Aufklärung of the eighteenth century but the various intellectual currents that flow from it; postmodernism, for example, is not a return to a pre-modern worldview but is a continuation as well as a modification and a rejection of the modernism derived from the Aufklärung and is unthinkable without it.) Although they are not the only intellectual systems present in our country and both contain a wide variety of thought not always in perfect harmony, they do represent two rather distinct ways of looking at the universe. But people err when they assume that only one is based on faith and only the other uses reason and evidence.
In truth, both Christianity and the Enlightenment proceed from premises that must be accepted by faith, even as they both believe that there are strong arguments for accepting their own premises. Christianity teaches the existence of God and His intervention in history. It has throughout the centuries made rational arguments as to why this is so, but it has also understood that ultimately one either accepts the premise or one doesn’t. Similarly, the Enlightenment proceeds from the notion that the material universe is all that is knowable and therefore is all that exists. Moreover, it believes that anything we want to learn about this material universe can be learned by empirical observation. And while this may seem a reasonable observation, it is one that cannot be proven empirically. One has to assume by faith that we do not live in a solipsistic world or in a universe where the senses deceive us or where nature is not always consistent. Now we may argue over the axioms upon which we rely, but ultimately they either are accepted by faith or are not.
Those premises, once accepted, determine the way that the system of thought will develop. The Enlightenment, founded on a belief in materialism and empiricism, will then use the evidence found by empirical observation exclusively to determine what will be part of its teaching and what will not. But Christianity too proceeds in an analogous manner. The Christian faith starts with the belief that God exists, that mankind in its current state is tainted by original sin, that God intervened in human history through the death and resurrection of Christ, and that the Scriptures record this revelation. A Christian theologian worthy of the title will try to conserve the data of Scripture, much as an Enlightenment thinker will try to craft an interpretation that best explains all the empirical data. Most of us are familiar with the process used by scientists, but fail to recognize that Christian theologians follow a similar process. They are not crafting ideas out of whole cloth, but are logically following the methodology drawn from their premises and are trying to preserve all of their data. The difference is that their methodology sends them to the Scriptures as the most reliable source of information, while those of the Enlightenment would look at the empirical data of the latest experiment. The Enlightenment might criticize Christians for failing to restrict themselves to material observation, but Christians would argue in reply that the Enlightenment is irrational by limiting itself to only the material realm.
There is much more to say about these two major intellectual systems, but suffice it to say that the Enlightenment view is no less based on faith than Christianity is and that Christianity is no less methodical and rational in the way that it teaches the faith.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
Friday, August 27, 2010
Discerning the Will of God
In July a parishioner emailed me a series of questions about discerning the will of God. I emailed him back and he thought the answers were helpful. With my permission he shared the answers with his friends and urged me to give the answers a broader distribution. Since I haven’t blogged for a while, I thought this might make a good topic for a blog, especially since we all face moments in life when we have to make major choices. With his permission I am posting most of my reply to him, with a little editing to make it more applicable to a general audience.
Often when making a decision, we want to know that God is approving of it. Hence we want to know exactly what God has to say about it. But how can we discern God’s voice from the clamor all around us? We begin then by asking the question: Is it normal to “feel” God? If so, can you describe the feeling? One temptation that many Christians face is to equate God (or an encounter with Him) with a particular feeling. But God isn’t a feeling—any more than human beings are. There is no one consistent feeling that you have whenever you talk with your mom or dad or any other person. Of course, there is often a feeling of love when I talk with loved ones or with God, and that is to be expected. But that is not always the feeling, since there are sometimes other emotions that are more appropriate—guilt, anger, confusion, and the like. If you read the Psalms, you see the wide variety of emotions that people have when they dealt with God. Moreover, we have to understand that God does not always manifest Himself and certainly not in the fullness of His glory; even Moses wasn’t allowed to see God’s face. In addition, it often seems that the more one advances spiritually, the less one senses God, as is often expressed by the psalmists, who complain that God has abandoned them when they had been faithful to Him. Theologians have noted that God appeared to Moses as a bright light in a burning bush in his first encounter, but in later encounters he went under a dark cloud; so at first believers seem to sense God’s presence easily, but He seems more withdrawn as we progress. Of course, God seems more absent (not that He is) so that we can learn to trust His Word rather than our feelings or outward manifestations.
How do we, as Christians (faithful or trying to be) listen to God to try and understand His plan? Read the Scriptures. God has already given you a whole book revealing Himself and His attitudes. Somehow or another, though, we think that that isn’t enough. We want Him to say more. But He has already given an outline of the moral law in the Ten Commandments and further explained them in the Sermon on the Mount. He has revealed the gospel by which we have new life. The gospel is God’s eternal Word to us; it is the only means by which we have eternal life. Why would we seek something beyond it? Of course, God hasn’t spoken about every detail in our life because He does allow us great freedom. Let me illustrate with this example. Let’s say that you have a vehicle and the money to keep it gassed up. You are told that you can drive on any paved road as long as you obey the traffic signs. Within those parameters, however, you can drive wherever you want to. In the same way you have the gospel, which like a car empowers you to go wherever you want to. The only restrictions are laid down by the law, which tells you where you may not go and what restrictions you have to observe. But just as I could choose to drive to the Smokies or to the Rockies or stay in the Midwest, so I have the freedom to do all sorts of things as long as I do not violate God’s law as summarized in the commandments. Now I may have to use my common sense to ask myself whether I should go to the mountains or stay in the Midwest; likewise, in the Christian life I may have to use my common sense to ask what the best choice in life is. But God’s plan isn’t a straightjacket.
When we make decisions, should we do so honoring our parents (and what they taught us) as well as God? We must always honor our parents, but honor does not necessarily mean obedience. When we are not yet of age, it does, but once we are grown and not under their direct authority, we may listen to their advice but we are not bound to it.
When looking to the Scriptures for guidance, do we simply go with the way we were taught or is it better to come up with our own interpretation? The Scriptures are never a matter of our own interpretation, as Peter reminds us (2 Peter 1:20-21). Nor do the Scriptures tell us to simply be a Christian by association and without real thought. We are to search the Scriptures and learn them and know them. Since the Scriptures interpret the Scriptures and become clearer the more we read them, the main task for a Christian is to steep himself or herself in the Bible so that it really does become clear.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
Often when making a decision, we want to know that God is approving of it. Hence we want to know exactly what God has to say about it. But how can we discern God’s voice from the clamor all around us? We begin then by asking the question: Is it normal to “feel” God? If so, can you describe the feeling? One temptation that many Christians face is to equate God (or an encounter with Him) with a particular feeling. But God isn’t a feeling—any more than human beings are. There is no one consistent feeling that you have whenever you talk with your mom or dad or any other person. Of course, there is often a feeling of love when I talk with loved ones or with God, and that is to be expected. But that is not always the feeling, since there are sometimes other emotions that are more appropriate—guilt, anger, confusion, and the like. If you read the Psalms, you see the wide variety of emotions that people have when they dealt with God. Moreover, we have to understand that God does not always manifest Himself and certainly not in the fullness of His glory; even Moses wasn’t allowed to see God’s face. In addition, it often seems that the more one advances spiritually, the less one senses God, as is often expressed by the psalmists, who complain that God has abandoned them when they had been faithful to Him. Theologians have noted that God appeared to Moses as a bright light in a burning bush in his first encounter, but in later encounters he went under a dark cloud; so at first believers seem to sense God’s presence easily, but He seems more withdrawn as we progress. Of course, God seems more absent (not that He is) so that we can learn to trust His Word rather than our feelings or outward manifestations.
How do we, as Christians (faithful or trying to be) listen to God to try and understand His plan? Read the Scriptures. God has already given you a whole book revealing Himself and His attitudes. Somehow or another, though, we think that that isn’t enough. We want Him to say more. But He has already given an outline of the moral law in the Ten Commandments and further explained them in the Sermon on the Mount. He has revealed the gospel by which we have new life. The gospel is God’s eternal Word to us; it is the only means by which we have eternal life. Why would we seek something beyond it? Of course, God hasn’t spoken about every detail in our life because He does allow us great freedom. Let me illustrate with this example. Let’s say that you have a vehicle and the money to keep it gassed up. You are told that you can drive on any paved road as long as you obey the traffic signs. Within those parameters, however, you can drive wherever you want to. In the same way you have the gospel, which like a car empowers you to go wherever you want to. The only restrictions are laid down by the law, which tells you where you may not go and what restrictions you have to observe. But just as I could choose to drive to the Smokies or to the Rockies or stay in the Midwest, so I have the freedom to do all sorts of things as long as I do not violate God’s law as summarized in the commandments. Now I may have to use my common sense to ask myself whether I should go to the mountains or stay in the Midwest; likewise, in the Christian life I may have to use my common sense to ask what the best choice in life is. But God’s plan isn’t a straightjacket.
When we make decisions, should we do so honoring our parents (and what they taught us) as well as God? We must always honor our parents, but honor does not necessarily mean obedience. When we are not yet of age, it does, but once we are grown and not under their direct authority, we may listen to their advice but we are not bound to it.
When looking to the Scriptures for guidance, do we simply go with the way we were taught or is it better to come up with our own interpretation? The Scriptures are never a matter of our own interpretation, as Peter reminds us (2 Peter 1:20-21). Nor do the Scriptures tell us to simply be a Christian by association and without real thought. We are to search the Scriptures and learn them and know them. Since the Scriptures interpret the Scriptures and become clearer the more we read them, the main task for a Christian is to steep himself or herself in the Bible so that it really does become clear.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
Friday, June 11, 2010
A Perfect Game or Not?
Did Armando Galarraga throw a perfect game or not on June 2? At first glance it might seem that he did and that umpire Jim Joyce’s botched call should not thwart Galarraga’s achievement. The pitcher had single-handedly accomplished a great feat in baseball and should not be penalized because a bystander made an error.
But what makes a perfect game? We tend to think of perfect games as the hard work of pitchers alone, but in reality everybody on the team (and, as we discovered recently, everybody on the umpire staff) has to play perfectly. The best pitcher will get nowhere if the catcher bobbles the ball even once. At the very least, a perfect game requires not only a great pitcher but also a catcher who can work well with him.
But a perfect game has never been just about an excellent pitcher and catcher. In theory, one could meet the requirement of a perfect game—27 batters up, 27 down—by striking out all of them, but that feat has never been done. The greatest number of strikeouts in a nine-inning major league game is 20, and that number has never been reached during a perfect game. In fact, from the statistics I was able to consult, I did not see any pitcher of a perfect game who struck out as many as 18 batters. Thus, more than a third of the batters in each perfect game were put out by the fielders. One outfielder who loses the ball in the sun or collides with a teammate is enough to ruin a perfect game. The pitcher may get the honor for a perfect game, but it is really a team effort.
This is something that bears repeating in our highly individualistic society, which tends to praise one individual (usually the CEO or other most visible individual) rather than to recognize others who contributed to the success. A CEO may have a wonderful vision for a company, but it can be undone by a grumpy receptionist, an embezzling CFO, an insensitive marketing department, or workers careless about environmental or safety concerns. Top executives may pride themselves on their ability to get other people in the company to work hard and honestly, but in truth their workers usually already come with those values, much as outfielders are not taught their skills by the pitchers on their team. Great companies usually have people in all areas of the operation who bring exceptional enthusiasm, diligence, and attentiveness to detail. Most of these workers may not even be recognized by management, but the company would not survive without them.
I am forced, therefore, to conclude that Galarraga did not pitch a perfect game, since a perfect game is always about more than just the pitcher, even if the pitcher is the one who gets the credit. Perhaps, though, we can use his “failure” to consider how much we need each other in order to accomplish our goals.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
But what makes a perfect game? We tend to think of perfect games as the hard work of pitchers alone, but in reality everybody on the team (and, as we discovered recently, everybody on the umpire staff) has to play perfectly. The best pitcher will get nowhere if the catcher bobbles the ball even once. At the very least, a perfect game requires not only a great pitcher but also a catcher who can work well with him.
But a perfect game has never been just about an excellent pitcher and catcher. In theory, one could meet the requirement of a perfect game—27 batters up, 27 down—by striking out all of them, but that feat has never been done. The greatest number of strikeouts in a nine-inning major league game is 20, and that number has never been reached during a perfect game. In fact, from the statistics I was able to consult, I did not see any pitcher of a perfect game who struck out as many as 18 batters. Thus, more than a third of the batters in each perfect game were put out by the fielders. One outfielder who loses the ball in the sun or collides with a teammate is enough to ruin a perfect game. The pitcher may get the honor for a perfect game, but it is really a team effort.
This is something that bears repeating in our highly individualistic society, which tends to praise one individual (usually the CEO or other most visible individual) rather than to recognize others who contributed to the success. A CEO may have a wonderful vision for a company, but it can be undone by a grumpy receptionist, an embezzling CFO, an insensitive marketing department, or workers careless about environmental or safety concerns. Top executives may pride themselves on their ability to get other people in the company to work hard and honestly, but in truth their workers usually already come with those values, much as outfielders are not taught their skills by the pitchers on their team. Great companies usually have people in all areas of the operation who bring exceptional enthusiasm, diligence, and attentiveness to detail. Most of these workers may not even be recognized by management, but the company would not survive without them.
I am forced, therefore, to conclude that Galarraga did not pitch a perfect game, since a perfect game is always about more than just the pitcher, even if the pitcher is the one who gets the credit. Perhaps, though, we can use his “failure” to consider how much we need each other in order to accomplish our goals.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Ethics is About More Than Right and Wrong
In case you have not noticed, I have been blogging recently mainly about foundational matters in ethics. I have argued that the Scriptures have a coherent ethical philosophy despite the fact that they do not arrange their ethics as a treatise and despite the fact that the rules of the Old Testament and the New Testament differ somewhat. In this blog I invite you to understand that ethics means more than a criterion for deciding right and wrong. We would recognize this instantly if we spoke Greek. The word “ethics” comes from a Greek word that means “that which is customary or habitual.” Ethics does not merely draw boundaries; it also inculcates good habits. It defines the practices that lead to the virtuous life and away from the vice-ridden.
All too often in our thinking about ethics we reduce the question to “Is x right or wrong?” Even worse, we reduce our ethical thinking to a few slogans, whether it be the Golden Rule or Kant’s Categorical Imperative or even something as elaborate as the Ten Commandments. Now if that were the beginning of our ethical thinking—that is, if we used these items to begin thinking of the sorts of practices we would like to cultivate—it might not be so bad. But when it is the end of our ethical thinking, it becomes so reductionistic that it actually may encourage us to lead an evil life. We say, “Technically I haven’t violated law Y or Z (understood in their narrowest sense); therefore I am still behaving in a moral way until I violate a law.”
We would not live so carelessly in other matters. If I were going down a winding mountain pass, it would be foolish of me to ask, “How fast can I go without going off the cliff?” If I have any sense at all, I would take every precaution so that the most trivial mistake on my part or a malfunction of my car would not send me over the guard rail. Even if technically I have not run into trouble as long as my car stays on the road, I have needlessly endangered myself and perhaps others. One day my carelessness could cost me my life. But our pet sins flourish because we think that we can do everything leading up to that sin and then slam on the brakes at the last moment. When we inevitably fail, we wonder why.
A better question to ask when going down a winding mountain pass would be, “What is the best way that I can handle this mountain road?” rather than “How fast can I go?” Similarly, a better question to ask about our lives when dealing with a moral dilemma is “How can I best live a godly life that glorifies God?” rather than “How far can I go before I do something immoral?”
This is the approach that the Scriptures take. Paul’s epistles, for example, repeatedly call God’s people to live out their baptismal life. If you look at such passages as Romans 12-13 or Galatians 5 or Colossians 3, you see that Paul does more than warn people against bad behavior. He urges them to live a life that reflects God’s working in them. Similarly, our Lord in the Sermon on the Mount warns against a mere reductionistic reading of the law (Matthew 5:21-37) but urges us to do more than avoid evil but to pursue the good that is beyond the comprehension of the heathen (Matthew 5:28-48) and to embrace the attitudes summarized in the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-12). We are to be more than good. We are to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16).
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
All too often in our thinking about ethics we reduce the question to “Is x right or wrong?” Even worse, we reduce our ethical thinking to a few slogans, whether it be the Golden Rule or Kant’s Categorical Imperative or even something as elaborate as the Ten Commandments. Now if that were the beginning of our ethical thinking—that is, if we used these items to begin thinking of the sorts of practices we would like to cultivate—it might not be so bad. But when it is the end of our ethical thinking, it becomes so reductionistic that it actually may encourage us to lead an evil life. We say, “Technically I haven’t violated law Y or Z (understood in their narrowest sense); therefore I am still behaving in a moral way until I violate a law.”
We would not live so carelessly in other matters. If I were going down a winding mountain pass, it would be foolish of me to ask, “How fast can I go without going off the cliff?” If I have any sense at all, I would take every precaution so that the most trivial mistake on my part or a malfunction of my car would not send me over the guard rail. Even if technically I have not run into trouble as long as my car stays on the road, I have needlessly endangered myself and perhaps others. One day my carelessness could cost me my life. But our pet sins flourish because we think that we can do everything leading up to that sin and then slam on the brakes at the last moment. When we inevitably fail, we wonder why.
A better question to ask when going down a winding mountain pass would be, “What is the best way that I can handle this mountain road?” rather than “How fast can I go?” Similarly, a better question to ask about our lives when dealing with a moral dilemma is “How can I best live a godly life that glorifies God?” rather than “How far can I go before I do something immoral?”
This is the approach that the Scriptures take. Paul’s epistles, for example, repeatedly call God’s people to live out their baptismal life. If you look at such passages as Romans 12-13 or Galatians 5 or Colossians 3, you see that Paul does more than warn people against bad behavior. He urges them to live a life that reflects God’s working in them. Similarly, our Lord in the Sermon on the Mount warns against a mere reductionistic reading of the law (Matthew 5:21-37) but urges us to do more than avoid evil but to pursue the good that is beyond the comprehension of the heathen (Matthew 5:28-48) and to embrace the attitudes summarized in the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-12). We are to be more than good. We are to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16).
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
Friday, April 23, 2010
Applying Old Testament Law to the New Testament Era
In a previous blog I wrote that the Bible doesn’t always organize its system of ethics as a textbook would. It does deal with right and wrong, but more often than not it does not do so in the abstract but in describing how people relate to God, whether in hearing His judgment or His word of forgiveness. That doesn’t mean that there is no right and wrong or that the ethics of the Bible are unclear. Rather it means that we gain a deeper understanding of God’s philosophy of right and wrong by coming to know Him fully rather than by merely looking at a treatise on ethics.
What complicates matters is that the explicit ethical content of the Bible differs somewhat in both testaments. Some laws of the Old Testament clearly do not apply anymore, as all recognize. No Christian of any stripe, no matter how inclined they are towards the Old Testament, offers the sacrifices prescribed by Leviticus, even though God was quite insistent on their observance. Why do Christians ignore the rules about the sacrifices while insisting that other rules of the Old Testament, such as those related to sexual immorality, still apply?
I would suggest that a metaphor the apostle Paul uses in Galatians 3:24-25 can solve this dilemma. He argues that the law served as a guardian for ancient Israel, which was still under age at that time. Paul doesn’t develop the metaphor other than to say that being under the tutelage of a guardian is little better than being a slave; the difference comes when a person reaches adulthood. I would like to argue, though, that the rules one learns as a child serve as an example of the sort of rules God gave the Israelites. Just as children retain some rules into adulthood while outgrowing others, so some aspects of the law remain valid at all times while others were outgrown when Christ came. Moreover, even in the rules that no longer apply there are principles that are still relevant.
For example, think of a grown man recalling an incident when he was four. His mother looked out the window and saw him wandering out into the street to get his ball. By the time she ran outside, he was back on the front yard and denied ever going into the street. She reminded him that he had been told never to tell a lie and never to enter the street without being accompanied by an adult. Although she punished him for breaking both rules that day, she punished him more severely for going into the street than for lying about it. Now what is he supposed to think today? He might be tempted to say, “My mother doesn’t still enforce the rule about not entering a street unaccompanied. Therefore, she doesn’t care about lying anymore, either, and I can lie if I want to.” Or he could take a legalistic tone: “I know that lying is wrong and always has been. Therefore, crossing the street by myself must also be wrong.” Most of us would instinctively know that both answers are foolish. There are some rules that apply universally and others that apply to particular circumstances. All people should tell the truth, but those who are not mature enough to cross the street by themselves shouldn’t do so. But even from the rule that has been changed there is a universal principle: crossing a street requires paying attention. Those who cannot pay due attention should be forbidden to cross the street by themselves; those who can pay attention may cross the street on their own.
From this analogy we can understand why God punished rather severely those who broke the Sabbath in the Old Testament days, but that does not necessarily mean that we have to keep it as the Israelites did. The Sabbath was a useful tool to instruct people to take time to listen to God’s Word. As with all the ceremonial law, it trained people to leave behind pagan thought patterns and to look forward to the redemption won by Christ (Hebrews 10:1-4). But once Christ had come, people could look to the reality rather than the shadow (Hebrews 10:1). We can enjoy Christ as our Sabbath rest rather than the earthly Sabbath practiced by the Israelites (Hebrews 4:3, 8-11). In fact, the Scriptures explicitly state that the rules of the Old Testament holidays no longer apply (Colossians 2:16-17). Jesus as Lord of the Sabbath (Mark 2:28; Luke 6:5) had the power to abrogate it, much as a parent has the authority to change household rules, and He has done so.
As some rules from childhood are set aside, our responsibility grows, not diminishes. All a four year old has to do with streets is to keep the rule not to cross it. No further thought is required. But older children and adults have much to think about. Have they looked both ways? Is the car really going to stop at the stop sign or is the driver too busy talking on the cell phone? In the same way, it was relatively easy to keep the Sabbath in the Old Testament; one simply stopped working. But entering the true Sabbath rest by believing in Christ (Hebrews 4:3) requires much more attention. It is not a one-day-a-week phenomenon, but a 24/7 one. Also because we grow in responsibility as we mature, there are also some things permitted in our childhood that are no longer permitted in adulthood. Small children are permitted to fidget, but adults are expected to sit still. By the same token, there were things permitted under the Old Testament law (such as polygamy) that are not permitted now.
I will have more to say about ethics in future blogs, but I think some things are clear from this blog and the one I posted on April 15. What at first looks like a chaotic system really is not. There is a system of values that lies behind all of the Scriptures’ rules. One discovers it not merely by looking at explicit laws but also by considering the values that underlie the interactions between God and His people. Even when certain rules are later abrogated, the underlying principles remain in force. If anything, when God lessens the force of a particular rule He actually increases our responsibility because we are ready to bear it. And thus we have an ethical system that is incredibly rich and encourages people to grow and to mature.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
What complicates matters is that the explicit ethical content of the Bible differs somewhat in both testaments. Some laws of the Old Testament clearly do not apply anymore, as all recognize. No Christian of any stripe, no matter how inclined they are towards the Old Testament, offers the sacrifices prescribed by Leviticus, even though God was quite insistent on their observance. Why do Christians ignore the rules about the sacrifices while insisting that other rules of the Old Testament, such as those related to sexual immorality, still apply?
I would suggest that a metaphor the apostle Paul uses in Galatians 3:24-25 can solve this dilemma. He argues that the law served as a guardian for ancient Israel, which was still under age at that time. Paul doesn’t develop the metaphor other than to say that being under the tutelage of a guardian is little better than being a slave; the difference comes when a person reaches adulthood. I would like to argue, though, that the rules one learns as a child serve as an example of the sort of rules God gave the Israelites. Just as children retain some rules into adulthood while outgrowing others, so some aspects of the law remain valid at all times while others were outgrown when Christ came. Moreover, even in the rules that no longer apply there are principles that are still relevant.
For example, think of a grown man recalling an incident when he was four. His mother looked out the window and saw him wandering out into the street to get his ball. By the time she ran outside, he was back on the front yard and denied ever going into the street. She reminded him that he had been told never to tell a lie and never to enter the street without being accompanied by an adult. Although she punished him for breaking both rules that day, she punished him more severely for going into the street than for lying about it. Now what is he supposed to think today? He might be tempted to say, “My mother doesn’t still enforce the rule about not entering a street unaccompanied. Therefore, she doesn’t care about lying anymore, either, and I can lie if I want to.” Or he could take a legalistic tone: “I know that lying is wrong and always has been. Therefore, crossing the street by myself must also be wrong.” Most of us would instinctively know that both answers are foolish. There are some rules that apply universally and others that apply to particular circumstances. All people should tell the truth, but those who are not mature enough to cross the street by themselves shouldn’t do so. But even from the rule that has been changed there is a universal principle: crossing a street requires paying attention. Those who cannot pay due attention should be forbidden to cross the street by themselves; those who can pay attention may cross the street on their own.
From this analogy we can understand why God punished rather severely those who broke the Sabbath in the Old Testament days, but that does not necessarily mean that we have to keep it as the Israelites did. The Sabbath was a useful tool to instruct people to take time to listen to God’s Word. As with all the ceremonial law, it trained people to leave behind pagan thought patterns and to look forward to the redemption won by Christ (Hebrews 10:1-4). But once Christ had come, people could look to the reality rather than the shadow (Hebrews 10:1). We can enjoy Christ as our Sabbath rest rather than the earthly Sabbath practiced by the Israelites (Hebrews 4:3, 8-11). In fact, the Scriptures explicitly state that the rules of the Old Testament holidays no longer apply (Colossians 2:16-17). Jesus as Lord of the Sabbath (Mark 2:28; Luke 6:5) had the power to abrogate it, much as a parent has the authority to change household rules, and He has done so.
As some rules from childhood are set aside, our responsibility grows, not diminishes. All a four year old has to do with streets is to keep the rule not to cross it. No further thought is required. But older children and adults have much to think about. Have they looked both ways? Is the car really going to stop at the stop sign or is the driver too busy talking on the cell phone? In the same way, it was relatively easy to keep the Sabbath in the Old Testament; one simply stopped working. But entering the true Sabbath rest by believing in Christ (Hebrews 4:3) requires much more attention. It is not a one-day-a-week phenomenon, but a 24/7 one. Also because we grow in responsibility as we mature, there are also some things permitted in our childhood that are no longer permitted in adulthood. Small children are permitted to fidget, but adults are expected to sit still. By the same token, there were things permitted under the Old Testament law (such as polygamy) that are not permitted now.
I will have more to say about ethics in future blogs, but I think some things are clear from this blog and the one I posted on April 15. What at first looks like a chaotic system really is not. There is a system of values that lies behind all of the Scriptures’ rules. One discovers it not merely by looking at explicit laws but also by considering the values that underlie the interactions between God and His people. Even when certain rules are later abrogated, the underlying principles remain in force. If anything, when God lessens the force of a particular rule He actually increases our responsibility because we are ready to bear it. And thus we have an ethical system that is incredibly rich and encourages people to grow and to mature.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Rich and Poor Alike
Recently a letter to the editor of the Chicago Tribune commented in passing that Jesus would have spent time with the poor and told the rich to sell all they owned. I also recall reading a year or two ago in the Chicago Tribune Magazine a letter to the editor took Francis Cardinal George to task for hosting a swanky Christmastime soiree (and the magazine for covering it) and said that Jesus would have rather spent His time at some soup kitchen on the west side.
It is hard to disagree with the sentiment. Throughout the Scriptures God defends the poor, the widows, and the orphans. He opposes those who would victimize them. He urges people to give alms to them. Jesus commended the impoverished widow for her great generosity, though she could give only pennies while the wealthy gave wads of cash (Luke 21:1-4). How one treats the poor is a real hallmark of that person’s spirituality.
And yet the two letters miss the mark. The authors leap from the fact that God loves the poor to the conclusion that God loves only the poor. In truth God loves rich and poor alike. And this is shown in our Lord’s interactions with the rich and poor. He attended the banquets of many rich people—Zacchaeus (Luke 19:2, 7), Matthew (Matthew 9:10-13), and a ruler of the Pharisees (Luke 14:1), to name a few. Some of the banquets he attended must have been real shindigs because the guests vied for positions of honor (Luke 14:7). And there were people who were deeply offended by our Lord’s attendance at these lavish affairs. They grumbled because these people had gained their wealth unjustly and our Lord was dining in their homes (Luke 15:2; 19:7). His enemies went so far as to call Jesus a party animal (Luke 7:34). They were even more offended when lavish gifts were poured out upon him, especially when there were so many poor who needed help (John 12:5). What is more, our Lord demanded of only one rich man that he give up all his wealth and that because he loved his possessions more than he loved God (Mark 10:21-22). He said nothing to the other rich people He encountered.
In popular imagination the only way that our Lord could have cared for the poor was by hating the rich, and vice versa. Similarly, we imagine that if our Lord hated the hypocrisy of the Pharisees (which He did), He must have avoided them at all costs. In reality, He dined with them frequently (see Luke 7:36 and 14:1 for a couple of examples) and loved them no less than He loved His disciples. Jesus was one of the rarest of human beings—comfortable with rich and poor alike, loving hypocrites and open sinners equally. He was not offended by anyone’s poverty or wealth. He did not curry favor with either, but called all to fellowship and discipleship. I would fully expect Him to be hobnobbing with people in a Gold Coast penthouse one evening and to share a crust of moldy bread in a decrepit housing project on the west side the next evening—and to feel perfectly at home in both places.
Why cannot we have the same attitude? We human beings are tempted to think that we are more deserving of God’s love than others are. We are poorer and that is proof that we are more honest. Or we are richer and that is proof that we are more hard-working. We are more religious and that is proof that we are godlier. Or we can’t stand all the hypocritical claptrap and that is proof that we are more acceptable than the religious people. But, of course, these attitudes simply indicate how uncomfortable we are with ourselves. We are graceless toward others because we fear that there is no grace for us.
I don’t deny that rich people and poor people alike have their faults and sometimes it is hard to see them as human beings because their sins distort their humanity. But we need to learn our Lord’s attitude and see the person beloved by God, not a caricature of our own making or of theirs.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
It is hard to disagree with the sentiment. Throughout the Scriptures God defends the poor, the widows, and the orphans. He opposes those who would victimize them. He urges people to give alms to them. Jesus commended the impoverished widow for her great generosity, though she could give only pennies while the wealthy gave wads of cash (Luke 21:1-4). How one treats the poor is a real hallmark of that person’s spirituality.
And yet the two letters miss the mark. The authors leap from the fact that God loves the poor to the conclusion that God loves only the poor. In truth God loves rich and poor alike. And this is shown in our Lord’s interactions with the rich and poor. He attended the banquets of many rich people—Zacchaeus (Luke 19:2, 7), Matthew (Matthew 9:10-13), and a ruler of the Pharisees (Luke 14:1), to name a few. Some of the banquets he attended must have been real shindigs because the guests vied for positions of honor (Luke 14:7). And there were people who were deeply offended by our Lord’s attendance at these lavish affairs. They grumbled because these people had gained their wealth unjustly and our Lord was dining in their homes (Luke 15:2; 19:7). His enemies went so far as to call Jesus a party animal (Luke 7:34). They were even more offended when lavish gifts were poured out upon him, especially when there were so many poor who needed help (John 12:5). What is more, our Lord demanded of only one rich man that he give up all his wealth and that because he loved his possessions more than he loved God (Mark 10:21-22). He said nothing to the other rich people He encountered.
In popular imagination the only way that our Lord could have cared for the poor was by hating the rich, and vice versa. Similarly, we imagine that if our Lord hated the hypocrisy of the Pharisees (which He did), He must have avoided them at all costs. In reality, He dined with them frequently (see Luke 7:36 and 14:1 for a couple of examples) and loved them no less than He loved His disciples. Jesus was one of the rarest of human beings—comfortable with rich and poor alike, loving hypocrites and open sinners equally. He was not offended by anyone’s poverty or wealth. He did not curry favor with either, but called all to fellowship and discipleship. I would fully expect Him to be hobnobbing with people in a Gold Coast penthouse one evening and to share a crust of moldy bread in a decrepit housing project on the west side the next evening—and to feel perfectly at home in both places.
Why cannot we have the same attitude? We human beings are tempted to think that we are more deserving of God’s love than others are. We are poorer and that is proof that we are more honest. Or we are richer and that is proof that we are more hard-working. We are more religious and that is proof that we are godlier. Or we can’t stand all the hypocritical claptrap and that is proof that we are more acceptable than the religious people. But, of course, these attitudes simply indicate how uncomfortable we are with ourselves. We are graceless toward others because we fear that there is no grace for us.
I don’t deny that rich people and poor people alike have their faults and sometimes it is hard to see them as human beings because their sins distort their humanity. But we need to learn our Lord’s attitude and see the person beloved by God, not a caricature of our own making or of theirs.
© 2010 James A. Kellerman
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