Showing posts with label golden rule. Show all posts
Showing posts with label golden rule. Show all posts

January 10, 2016

The Knot

The knot that perplexes the Anglican Communion (and the world) — the tangle of culture, sex, law, theology and sexuality — will not be undone by gently plucking at this raveled end or tugging that tight loop; this Gordian knot will only be untied through the bold and rigorous application of the sword of the Golden Rule. Only when each has radically embraced and experienced the life of the other — as God did for humanity in the Incarnation — can we end the ceaseless pulling to and fro that tightens the knot of our discontents, instead of blessing us with the freedom that only comes through love.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

November 23, 2014

The King Is Here

SJF • Proper 29a • Tobias S Haller BSG
Jesus said, When the son of man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory... and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

We come now to the last Sunday of the church’s calendar year — you know our calendar doesn’t quite match up with the secular and civil calendar that starts in January. Our church year starts on the First Sunday of Advent — next Sunday — and so this church year ends this week.

It ends with a celebration that goes in some places by the name of the Feast of Christ the King. It’s a reminder of who our King is, the King of kings and Lord of lords, the one under whose feet, as Saint Paul told the Ephesians, all things are put in subjection.

Our gospel today shows this our King in action. The Son of Man comes in his glory, sits on his throne, and executes judgment. Talk about an executive order! For this is not just an order, but a judgment; and a chilling judgment it is. For those who are rewarded are not great heroes and martyrs. No, the reward of blessing is given to people who did very ordinary things: who fed the hungry and gave the thirsty something to drink, who welcomed the stranger and clothed the naked, who cared for the sick and visited prisoners.

And those who are judged guilty, are not perpetrators of horrible crimes — those who here are sent away into eternal punishment are not mass murders and terrible villains. No, they are people who simply failed to do the same things the blessèd ones did: who gave no food to the hungry or drink to the thirsty, who shunned the stranger and provided the naked with nothing to wear, who didn’t care for the sick or visit those in prison.

And the reason these two groups of people are judged as blessed or cursed is because those they served or rejected were not just anybody — they were the King himself in disguise.

+ + +

We’ve all heard stories about kings in disguise. It is a daring enterprise for a leader to put on a false beard and eyepatch and a humble garment and wander among his subjects. He had best have a strong will and a solid ego, for the things he hears may not be to his liking. Without his crown, without his royal robes of state, a king may be treated just like anybody else — for good or ill depending on who is doing the treating. One of my favorite stories is that of King Alfred, who was hiding from Danish invaders back in the ninth century. He hid undercover for a while in a peasant’s hut. One day the peasant’s wife told him to keep an eye on cakes baking on the griddle while she went out on an errand. With all of his troubles, his mind wandered, and he allowed the cakes to burn. When the woman of the house returned she gave him a ferocious tongue lashing — not knowing, of course, that she was speaking to her king.

+ + +

But we don’t have that excuse. We’ve been given the warning of who our King is. Jesus, our King, has told us in words of one syllable that as we treat the least of those who are members of his family, so we have treated him. When we fail to give food to the hungry, when we neglect to give drink to the thirsty, when we don’t welcome the stranger, or fail to give clothing to the naked, when we don’t care for the sick and ignore the prisoners: we are doing it to him.

We at Saint James Church have a number of opportunities, not just as individuals as we walk through the streets day by day, but as a congregation, to honor our Lord’s royal presence among us. Let me just mention a couple with immediate impact in the next few weeks.

First of all, this Thursday is Thanksgiving Day, and as we have done for the past several years we will have a midday worship service and then serve hot meals to any who come to our door that afternoon; and I invite all of you to come and help in that service and to share in that fellowship.

Second, your vicar and deacon have at our disposal a small fund which comes from the loose plate offering received several times each year. It is called “adiscretionary fund,” and it is used entirely for charity and outreach. When someone off the street comes to the office door and asks for something to eat, or help filling a prescription, or money for the train home to Yonkers, it is from this fund that we’re able to give a fare-card, or a few dollars. Deacon Bill has been using part of his discretionary fund to provide food to the hungry through the Elijah Project: it’s a wonderful and creative way to share, and involves members of the parish in the work of sharing. And believe you me, it is at this time of the rolling year, as the winds grow cold, that more and more people are in need of help. So today’s loose plate offering will be set aside for that purpose, and so I ask you to be generous, helping us to help others in your name. There is an old saying that the ministry of hospitality may lead you to entertaining angels unaware. Believe me, when we serve any who are in need we are not just serving angels, we are serving Christ our King as well.

These are just two concrete and real things you can do to honor our King in disguise as he spends time among us, in the here and now, so that in the day of the great “then” he will recognize us as having treated him as he deserves.

+ + +

I mentioned King Alfred a moment ago. Well, a story is told of another English king, George V, who planned to pay a visit to the northern industrial city of Leeds. The town council was very excited, and posted banners announcing the royal visit throughout the city. Multitudes flocked in the streets to celebrate, waving the Union Jack and cheering to the sounds of the brass bands. A children’s school was fortunate to have its schoolyard right on the route of the railway train upon which the king would leave the city. It was agreed and arranged that the children would be outside in formation to greet the king as he went past, and he would wave at them in return. The children were, of course, terribly excited. The great day came and the children were ready to sing their song of greeting. Down the track, out of the long tunnel, the royal train came into the bright sunlight, the engine steaming and chugging its smokestack, the steam whistle loudly announcing the arrival. The train slowed as it came by the schoolyard and his Majesty King George V emerged from the coach at the end of the train and took up his place on the platform where the assembled children could see him. He was dressed as he normally did: in a black morning coat, striped trousers and vest, and a silk top hat. He waved politely to the children with his pocket handkerchief, and then the train picked up speed and he slipped back into the coach. The cheering of the excited children subsided, until there was only the sound of one little girl who was weeping her heart out. A teacher asked the little girl why she was crying. And the child looked up, and through her sobs and tears bitterly complained, “I thought we were going to see the king; but it was only a man in a top hat!” She was expecting to see the king looking as he did in the picture on the classroom wall, with his crown and red robe trimmed with ermine. That’s what she was expecting, but that’s not what she saw.

+ + +

What do we expect our King to look like? As we pass by a hungry person on the street do we think, “This is not our king, for where is his crown?” When we see someone cold and shivering in a threadbare coat, do we think, “This is not our king, for where is his regal robe?” When we hear that someone is sick and alone, do we assume, “This could not be our king, for a king would have courtiers and officials to take care of him.” When we see a stranger, do we say to ourselves, “This could not be our king, for where are his ambassadors?” When we hear of a person in prison, do we think, “This could not be our King, for no king would ever be convicted of a crime and sent to prison!”

What do we expect our King to look like? He has told us exactly how he looks. He looks like a man — a man hungry or thirsty; he looks like a woman — a woman far from home and looking for help; he looks like a child — a child sick and alone. For our King is King even without his crown, even without his robe of state; even without his top hat and morning coat! He is our King even when he is hungry, even when he is thirsty, or sick, or naked, or lonely, or in prison. He is even our King when he is nailed to a cross — and he did that for us.

What shall we do for him? He has told us. “Oh, that today, you would hearken to his voice.”+


December 23, 2009

Another Thought for 12/23/09

It is one thing to bear each other's burdens, and quite another to heap upon others a burden we ourselves are not willing to bear.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
cp. Gal 6.2, Mat 23.4

May 31, 2008

Good as Gold (3)

The Morality of Judgment

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

The third section of an article that began with The Nature of the Good

Abba Theodore said, “If you are temperate do not judge the fornicator, for you would then transgress the law just as much. For he who said, ‘Do not commit fornication,’ also said, ‘Do not judge.’”

A brother at Scetis committed a fault. A council was called to which Abba Moses was invited... He took a leaking jug, filled it with water, and carried it with him. The others came out to meet him and said to him, “What is this, Father?” The old man said to them, “My sins run out behind me, and I do not see them, and today I am coming to judge the errors of another.” When they heard that they said no more to the brother but forgave him. (Benedicta Ward (tr), Sayings of the Desert Fathers, New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc., 1975, 80, 138-39.)

The church is caught in a dilemma between the many injunctions against presuming to judge another (Mt 7.1-5, Rom 2, Jm 4.11) and against the multiplication of laws and their imposition on others (Mt 23.4) on the one hand, and on the other the sense of responsibility to manage the oikonomía of the household of God (1 Cor 6.2-3) and to warn the sinner to repent. (Ezek 33.7-9) Can the GR help us to find a way out of this conflict?

Would I want to be judged, assuming I was doing wrong? Clearly, yes. If even pagan Plato’s Socrates recognized the evil of unacknowledged wrong, and the positive value of judgment, I as a Christian should want to be judged. So being judged is a good that I could wish that others might do to me. But who are the others? Who would do the judging? This is where the plural in the GR is important: it appears that judgment is reserved to the Body of the faithful, not to the individual. In this we can see Paul’s affirmation of the church’s right to warn and discipline its members.

But it is also important to remember that the GR applies to all parties in any action and requires reciprocity: the church can judge only as long as it intends to submit to the same judgment. Jesus’ criticism of “the Pharisees” is based upon their hypocrisy, their failure to do what they expect others to do, their lack of self reflection analogized to blindness, and their resentment at being judged — not on the fact that they judge.

This marks out two limits on the church’s freedom to judge: First, the church may judge only when it has fulfilled the commandment to do the work it is called to do, doing unto others (its members, and its “enemies” = those outside the church) as it would itself be done by. Secondly, the church may only judge when it intends to submit to judgment, and risk being found guilty or in error. For this reason, all pretense at infallibility or certain knowledge is unacceptable on the part of the church, for by this claim it seeks to place itself outside of judgment, and co-opt to itself the final judgment that belongs to Christ alone. It is part of the particular genius of Anglicanism to be one of the few churches to acknowledge the church of Christ can err, even in matters of faith. And it is a tragedy at this present time that so many seem to be so sure of the rightness of their position as to endanger the Body. It is no accident that the early church was more wary of schism than of heresy.

All judgments made by the church must, in the light of the rule of Christ and the limits of human knowledge (1 Cor 13.9), remain provisional to a large extent — and we must confess to being ignorant even of the extent of our ignorance. Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem and Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle affirm the limitation of human knowledge in the fields of mathematics and physics — and similar principles apply in systems in which self-reference self-examination occur: and this is precisely what we’ve been exploring, when we look at how the church governs itself. Therefore, even when relatively secure in its judgments, the proper mode of action, after judgment, is forgiveness. This too is in accord with the GR, since all of us would want to be forgiven, indeed we pray (in those words our Savior taught us) for such forgiveness several times each day! Are these simply empty phrases, or does the church realize the judgment under which it places itself when it refuses to forgive? “With the judgment you judge you shall be judged.” (Mt 7.2)

In closing, I quote at length from a passage that sums up the argument I have made.

For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them. From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. (2 Cor 5.14-20)

There are many issues and concerns facing the church in this day. If we are content to accept the limitations of our knowledge, I believe that we can enjoy the freedom we share as children of God by applying the maxim that Christ left us in the Golden Rule. We can move, however imperfectly, from self-interest into sacrificial and mutual self-giving as members of his Body, participating in the never-ending, reconciling dance of the Triune God who is giving, self-giving, and forgiving.


May 30, 2008

Good as Gold (2)

The Golden Rule: Its Origins, Context and Claim

Part 2 of an article that began with The Nature of the Good

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

If I am not for myself, who will be? But if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when? — R Hillel, Pirke Avot 1:14

The great Rabbi Hillel eloquently encompasses the tension between self- and other-interest, and the impulse to action that lies at the heart of all ethics. This rabbi is also credited with a version of the Golden Rule, about which more will be said below. But it is helpful to recall, before turning to Jesus’ teaching, that Jesus emerges from and was a part of a Rabbinic tradition, and it formed and informed his thinking.

Two preliminary observations on the Golden Rule (henceforth GR) must be made. First, it should not be thought that the GR is identical to Kant’s categorical imperative. Rather the categorical imperative stands in reference to any particular maxim in the same relationship that “A haiku is a three-line verse with a syllabic pattern 5-7-5” stands to an actual poem. The GR is not the categorical imperative, though it might be a maxim in accord with it. Secondly, it is at all costs necessary to avoid the slanderous, but still too-often-heard, allegations that the Old Testament displays a “love of Law” while the Gospel shows us a “law of Love.” As shown in the citation from Hillel, the GR is as a tree firmly rooted by the streams of Jewish tradition, and only bears fruit because it is fed with their waters.

The GR appears in Matthew 7.12 and Luke 6.31 in the Sermons on the Mount and the Plain respectively. In its general form it represents the “summary ideal maxim” tradition (explicitly in Matthew: “this is the law and the prophets”)(1) of Rabbinic Judaism. The Shema was held by the Rabbis to summarize the Decalogue under the rubric of unity, and love as the means to union. (pBerakhoth 1:5, 3c) Another example of this tradition (Makkot 24a) takes the 613 commands of the Torah and shows how they were summarized by David (to 11 commandments, in Psalm15), Isaiah (reduced to 6, Is 33.15-16), Micah (to 3, Mi 6.8), Isaiah again (to 2, Is 56.1) and — competing for one — Amos (5.4) and Habakkuk (2.4, echoed by the author of Hebrews, 10.38).

The most famous predecessor to the GR is Hillel’s “negative” version, which we will examine more closely below. Less well known is the bar on vengeance in Proverbs 24.29: “Do not say, I will pay back to others what they have done to me.” In short, this concise maxim grows from a tradition that was alive and well in Jewish culture and moral discourse, and Jesus marks the flowering of a stock that was only awaiting the coming of life-giving water to revive. (Job 14.8-9)(2)

Turning to the text

“In all things, whatever you want people to do to you, so you also do to them; for this is the law and the prophets.” (Matt 7:12)(3) Four observations about the GR are immediately apparent: it is inclusive, plural, imperative, and positive. It is instructive to compare it with its nearest kin (if we are to accept its Talmudic attribution) — Hillel’s response to the Gentile seeking to learn the whole of the Law while standing on one foot: “That which is hurtful to you do not do to others; the rest is commentary. Now go and study.” (Shabbat 30-31) In this form we are dealing with a commandment that is imperative, but singular and negative. Kant noted that it only governs harmful acts. (Groundwork, 68) Hillel’s maxim, which is subsumed in the GR, summarizes all of the “thou shalt nots” (restraint from wrong action) while the GR moves into the realm of positive action. The ethic of the GR, with its opening “in all things” does place all that one would find hurtful outside of one’s range of action, but it goes further, as we will see below.

The English word do does not have the same resonance as the Greek poien, the Hebrew ‘asa, the Latin factio, or even the French faire. All of these have an additional connotation of making, a robust physicality that only appears in a few English usages: “do up a lunch,” “do verse,” or, “do an essay.” When Jesus commands his followers (remember the plural!) to do we are dealing with a directive to concrete action for others, not inner disposition or sentimental pity for them. The ethic of the Gospel is clear: “being righteous,” particularly “individual” righteousness (with which the Gospel charges the Pharisee) is not what it is about, but doing righteousness in Jesus’ name in, through, and as the community of his Body. The GR is not simply a summary of the law but “of the prophets” — those witnesses to the call for charitable action rather than mere legal propriety: it is a call for the prophetic concerns for justice, equity, and fairness. The ones sent to the place prepared for the devil and his angels at the last judgment are not evil-doers, but those who have failed to do good to the koinonía of believers.(4) (Mt 25.41-43; see also James 2.15-16). Thus, the ethic of the GR does not permit innocent bystanders, nor detached disinterest (which some might consider better than self-interest, and which is the particular demon of “upright, decent, good citizens who mind their own business” when divorced from the works of mercy). The Rabbis define those who say, “What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours” as the type of the wicked city of Sodom! (Pirke Aboth 5) Contented bourgeois morality is not only inadequate, but condemned (to which the prophets bear witness). The GR moves beyond such passive disinterest, to other-interest, reflexively expressed in how one wants to be treated by them.

Who are these “others”? Jesus has already given us one answer, “those who believe in him.” But Jesus expands the range of agapé. In order to eliminate the possibility of self-interest through repayment, he calls upon his followers to do good to those who cannot repay the kindness: the poor, the lame and the blind. (Lk 14.12-14) Still the range of others is not exhausted: the only way to mirror the perfect and self-giving Father (Mt 5.48) is to do what the Father did in sending Christ to die for those who were his enemies (Rom 5.8). While Jesus affirms that there is no greater love than to die for ones friends (Jn 15.13), he dies for us “while we are yet sinners” (Rom 5:8), and beyond that for the sins of the whole world (1Jn 2.2), a world that to a large extent has rejected him. The “others” towards whom the Christ-conscious person is to act in the same way-she-would-be-done-by are not simply her friends and brothers and sisters of the household — for doesn’t anyone do that? — but her enemies (Mt 5.44-47). This open-handed generosity to all others is echoed in Jesus’ response to the lawyer’s question, “Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29) The “other” may be very other indeed. (The application of this principle to the non-human others upon whom we depend for our existence raises very serious questions. Our solidarity with “all that has breath” and even the hand-clapping trees, mountains and hills, should give us pause as we regard our treatment of the non-human world.)

Finally, two other “others” are implicitly present in this commandment: God, and the self-as-other. This broadens the application of the maxim to such acts as blasphemy or self-destructive behavior: there is no act that is not social, however individualistic and isolated it might appear. This also correlates with the “greatest commandment” as requiring us to love God with our whole being. We are not mere modules; all is in relationship, for all stems from Love.

Love in potential

The opening phrase of this maxim describes a nonexistent: it is “what you want people to do for you.” As already made clear in the foregoing concerning doing good to the poor and to one’s enemies, this is not about repayment. The text does not say, “as they have done to you,” but nor does it say, “so that they will do the same to you” or even “in the hopes that they might do the same to you.”

The ultimate freedom — and responsibility — implicit in this text is staggering. The GR liberates from rigidly constructed categories of good and evil, or right and wrong, which are ultimately unknowable, as Bonhoeffer asserts in his Ethics, and as the Rabbis taught.(5) The individual is clearly forbidden from doing harm under this maxim, but is free to understand harm within the context of particular circumstances and in the light of intention and consequence, not as an absolute or a taboo that reduces human agents to mere objects. The GR liberates the Christian from the elemental spirits of such legalisms and false asceticisms. (Col 2.20-22) The individual is free — and challenged — to give of herself to the utmost without any expectation of return, simply on the basis of how she would like to be treated. The focus of the moral act is no longer located in reward or desert, but in the intent to do as one would be done by — whether so done by or not.(6) The “sheep” in the powerful allegory of Matthew 25 are not rewarded because they served Christ (indeed, they were ignorant of the fact that they were serving him) but because they did the common acts of mercy they would have wished done to themselves — for who would not want to be clothed if naked, fed if hungry, visited if sick? The blessed in this allegory simply have the imaginativeness of spirit, the empathy, to see themselves in others, and turn their hearts to serve them, in the process serving Christ.

Sadly, with this freedom presented to us in Christ, many in the church at this time seem to be turning their back on this challenge, retreating into the false security of sitting in Moses’ judgment seat, as Christ charged the Pharisees with doing. This will be examined in the final section of this essay.


Note 1. The Summary of the Law is also given this tag at Matthew 22.40. This shows that the GR and Summary of the Law are cognate summaries, both of them seen, in Matthew, as somehow encapsulating “the law and the prophets.” I prefer to examine the GR here because of its formal simplicity, and because it represents Jesus’ most concise summary of the legal and prophetic witness.[^]

Note 2. Both “Summary of the Law” and “Golden Rule” are editorial titles that do not appear in the text itself. The passages usually called “Summaries” are actually responses to the question, “What is the greatest commandment?” Mark 12:29-31 probably preserves the original answer to the question, keeping things in the context of the commandments themselves.
Luke puts the answer in the mouth of the lawyer, and ends with his practical question to which Jesus provides the tale of the Good Samaritan. But Matt 22:36 brings in the “law and the prophets” and applies this dependency to the “Summary” (much as it is applied to the Golden Rule in Matt 7).
There is more, of course: Jesus adds the “love of neighbor” law from Leviticus to his rehearsal of the decalogue in Matthew 19:17-19. And, in a general sense, Romans 13:8-10 speaks of love as the “fulfillment” of the Law. James 2:8 refers to the commandment to love neighbor as self as the “royal law.” There is perhaps an echo of all of this in 1 John 2:10-11; and Galatians 6:2 embodies a similar principle of reciprocity. In short, this ethic informs the moral world of the early Church, deriving from Jewish roots.[^]

Note 3. For some reason, modern translations, such as the NRSV, tend to invert the sequence: Do to others as you would be done by. This seems to represent a slight shift in emphasis, but I am not sure it is wise to make too much of it. It has the virtue of brevity.[^]

Note 4. Although there is a long and valuable tradition of reading the passage from Matthew 25 as a charge to the church to perform charitable work, the original text and context appear rather to suggest its being addressed to the as yet converted “nations” to alert them to how they ought best receive Christ’s ambassadors (his brothers, the apostles and evangelists).[^]

Note 5. If the Torah had been given in fixed and inimitable formulations, it would not have endured. Thus Moses pleaded with the Lord, “Master of the universe, reveal to me the final truth in each problem of doctrine and law.” To which the Lord replied: “There are no pre-existent final truths in doctrine or law; the truth is the considered judgment of the majority of authoritative interpreters in every generation.” (pSanhedrin 4.2)[^]

Note 6. I am grateful to Br Thomas Bushnell BSG for his essay on Abelard’s moral thought in the regard of intent and desert.[^]

Good as Gold (1)

The Place of the Golden Rule in a Spirituality of Ethics
Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
A decade or so ago I took part in a discussion on morality in which I asserted that the Golden Rule was a sufficient standard for determining moral behavior. An interlocutor asked, “Is the Golden Rule really adequate?” I responded glibly that we had the assurance of Jesus to that effect. On further reflection I continue to believe in the sufficiency of the Golden Rule as at least a touchstone for moral discernment and at its best a call to moral action that stretches our capacity. In short, it represents a spiritual response to the call for an ethical life. In this paper I will examine salvation history and explore the Golden Rule in its context, origin and implications. In conclusion, I will examine the morality of judgment in the light of the spiritual system articulated.

The Nature of the Good: God, the Universe, and Everything

I begin this exploration by observing that the account of the Fall in Genesis is not history — certainly not natural history — but sacred story. Much theological thought, even in the post-Darwinian era, and even among non-Fundamentalist thinkers, has been hampered by neglect of this distinction. This does not mean that the story is to be discarded or disregarded; language, which is based on symbols, is essential to communication. The moment we move from things themselves to the names we give them we have stepped into a symbolic world; how much more with larger concepts for which no underlying “thing” can even be said to “exist.” We cannot escape the story, nor should we, as long as we are aware that it is to be used as story and not pressed into use as natural history. The “freedom from myth” agenda of some theologians is both doomed (as language itself partakes of symbolism) and to some extent pointless, rather like translating poetry into prose. Poetry bears truths that prose cannot articulate; but at the same time, to press the symbols into service as facts is to mistake their purpose and their meaning.
Natural science assures us, beyond reasonable doubt, that there was no age of perfection from which humans fell through sin. Rather than seeing the Genesis accounts in that way, it is more helpful to see the story of origin, as other theologians on closer reading have done,(1) as a kind of “upward” fall from innocence through knowledge: the place where the wages of sin and the cost of freedom merge. Seen in this light, there is a deep truth behind the sacred story (or rather stories) portrayed in Genesis, consistent with the truths revealed in natural history, and the two ways of knowing shed light upon each other, as I will demonstrate.
A summary of the argument
God (who is Self-Giving Love), begins that creation by allowing that-which-is-not-God to come-to-be. The culmination of that creativity is in God’s bringing to being creatures made in the image of God. In accomplishing this goal God was constrained by a limiting condition: God would not coerce beings into this likeness. Since God is loving and free, the creatures bearing God’s image would have to become capable of love and freedom. So God created a universe in which selfless love might arise, as it must, only from selfishness: only creatures that are self-interested, that become aware of that self-interest, and — through the life of God in the world, in the Incarnate Christ and the indwelling of the Spirit — become able to set that self-interest aside, have achieved the other-interested, self-giving love characteristic of God. They become children of God fashioned after the express image of God, Jesus Christ (Col 1.15). For God to create free creatures, the world needed to be placed under bondage to self-interest first. (Rom 8.21)
The Trinity as Basis for All Creation
Within God the Trinity-in-Unity, the One-who-is-Good (Mk 10.18, Lk 18.19), the intimate self-giving of the Persons to each other subsists in perfect unity without confusion: the Three are One and yet remain Three.
In the beginning, God created the universe of beings. This is the self-giving of the Father through the Son and in the Spirit. These created beings are good in their being (Gen 1.31) — that is, they need not do anything in order to be good. The creatures are sinless (unconscious of sin, void of will), and praise God simply in their being. (Ps 148.1-10) The moment these beings begin to act, they act with self-interest, although not conscious of self; this initial self-interest is entirely innocent and completely passive. The first creatures (energy and matter: Gen 1.3-10) endure and have identity solely because they possess two interrelated properties: identity, because the universe is not infinitely divisible but has a quantum structure; and endurance, because in accord with physical laws they cease to exist upon physical dissolution.(2) The principle of self-interest or perpetuation-of-self is solely physical at this point, coalescing in stars, planets and waters, and only governs the object itself: the physical self endures so long as it is recognizable as self, that is, as an entity. This principle governs the formation of simple objects, and more complex entities such as crystals. The survival of the physical self is determined solely in the relation of structure and material with the environment. Forms that are better suited to the conditions of their environment will survive longer under this principle.
In the second stage, entities evolve that not only form enduring structures, but are capable of replicating these structures. This is the beginning of what may be called, even in its simplest forms, life. In sacred account, this is represented by vegetation, the simplest form of life known to the Genesis author. (Gen 1.11) The primary law that governs evolutionary self-perpetuation through self-interest takes effect at this point: the living self endures in itself and in its generative and regenerative capacity to sustain and replicate itself. (Of course, replication produces not the self itself, but another self, another entity.) Living things survive because they are suited to and take advantage of the environment in which they live, and those better suited and better equipped to take advantage have a higher statistical opportunity to survive and reproduce. That they reproduce means that they can replace themselves over time with their progeny. With the emergence of life (and reproduction) comes death: a sacrifice in individual endurance more than compensated for by the capability of self-replication in progeny. Survival and evolution at this primitive stage is still driven entirely by external and environmental factors. There is no libido dominandi at this point (or at most a libido far below the level of intent; a drive without a driver, if you will), simply the tendency for living things to continue living and reproducing, those best adapted to the environment tending to dominate only in the statistical sense.
The third stage is the period of sensation, arising in some plants and the simplest animals, in which creatures begin to take active part in their own survival through the sensation of pleasure and (primarily) pain, though they would not be identified as such (there being no consciousness present to so identify them).(3) The sensing self operates on the basis of pleasure and pain to maximize its survival and the survival of itself-as-species. The sensing self reacts to the physical world automatically — no consciousness is posited: the higher plants turn towards the sun; the hydra’s tentacles withdraw at the touch of a needle. In the second half of the third stage animals with more developed nervous systems evolve, and complex behavior and instinct emerge, and with them the first intimations of consciousness. This period also marks the emergence of what physiologists call “the serpentine brain” — the neural structure comprising much of the brain in primitive organisms, but which has endured in the core of the human brain, in such processes as the limbic system. The conscious self operates on the basis of choices still largely determined by biological drives conditioned by pleasure and pain, now identified as such.
The fourth stage marks the dawn of consciousness-of-consciousness, or self-consciousness.(4) This is the point at which the self first becomes aware of itself-as-self, eventually leading to awareness of the other-as-other-self. It is also the point at which the human takes on the image of God, patterned after the Second Person of the Trinity, the logos who represents the capacity to discern self and other, to reason, and to love. The Latin term equivalent to logos, ratio, is helpful here, for a ratio requires at least two terms: in this case the self and the other.
But this is also the moment of open potential to the Fall. With the recognition of the great division between the self and the other, the pang of disunity comes to birth, and with it the awareness of the libido dominandi. To pick up the earlier analogy, a driver finally takes the driver’s seat. This is also the point of the arising of the divided mind, or the sense of duality (the mind driving the body: an image common to psychology and philosophy alike, and returned to again and again in imaginative literature and art.(5))
To return to the language of our sacred story, it is as if all of Genesis 2 and 3 are compacted into one moment, “the fruit with its seed in it” (Gen 1.11). First comes the human recognition of isolation (Gen 2.20), the optimism of union with the other (Gen 2.23), the sorry realization that inner self-interest is still alive in the serpentine brain (Gen 3.1), the tragic impossibility of seeking to become like God (who is Perfect Self-Giving, Perfect Love) at the prompting of self-interested motives (3.5-6), and the shame of exposed imperfection and separation, for which self-conscious nakedness is the powerful symbol (Gen 3.6-10). This is the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The self experiences for the first time the guilt and shame of the choice for self-interest, which is the root of sin falling from likeness to the perfectly self-giving God.(6)
It would be wrong to mark the drive to self-interest as inherently evil (in the popular sense of the word), however. Not only is it to some extent a necessary felix culpa, but, as I have shown, a necessity in the development of complex organisms capable of achieving freedom, and it is an integral part of God’s creation, and hence good. The Rabbis (Genesis Rabbah 9:7) believed that the human being had both a good and an evil inclination (the yetzer-ha-tov and the yetzer-ha-ra‘), both of which were declared “very good” by God (Gen 1.31). To explain how the “evil” inclination could be good, the Rabbis answer, “If it were not for this inclination, a man would neither build his house, marry a wife, father children, nor conduct business.” As we have seen, the inclination to self-interest has been behind the process of evolution prior to and leading to human life. But in spite of the positive outcomes of self-interest, the self (upon self-consciousness) also becomes tragically aware of the urge towards an asymptotic altruism and self-sacrifice, goals towards which it is called but which it can never achieve on its own, an inner awareness of what will eventually be recognized as “the divine likeness” (as humans begin to apprehend God’s self-revelation) combined with a realization of how far short the unredeemed self has fallen. The self-conscious self is no longer governed by purely physical or biological forces, but though incapable of escaping them, becomes responsible for its actions and aware of the discontinuity in itself.
Because of the heritage of evolution, the self-conscious self will always to some extent incline to choose for itself rather than the other, experiencing guilt and shame as a consequence, but incapable of fundamental alteration. At this point the concept of law as custodian or fence against abuse emerges (Gal 3.23). This law is not “natural” in the sense of describing how things happen (as the “law” of gravity); on the contrary, law is inherently unnatural for it points not to what is but to what should be. (Rom 7.9-10) The natural law of gravity governs the fall of objects; the natural law of self-interest — even as it guides the rise of more complex and ordered forms in concert with the pressure of the physical law of entropy leading to chaos — governs how far short falls the humanum from the divine image of perfect self-giving. These natural laws are, strictly speaking, non-moral in themselves. There is no “natural” moral law.
This principle was long ago recognized by Maimonides (The Eight Chapters, VI): there is no natural or “rational” moral law, though there may be generally accepted principles, which are cultural constructs or divine ordinances. All so-called law is given, whether by God or human reason, and hence is positive.(7) Two arguments against this view can be raised. First, Kant states that “self-love” cannot be a universal law, because a person in suffering might choose suicide on its basis, and if this were applied as a categorical imperative universally life would cease. (Groundwork, 53-54) This argument fails as a reductio ad absurdum which assumes a case in which all are suffering and choose escape through suicide. It also ignores that death is an ineluctable part of the functioning of the law of self-interest among living things, and that life evolves and develops through the means of selective death, in accord with the physical law of entropy.(8) Second, it is argued, on the basis of Rom 1.20, that Paul regarded the prohibition on idolatry as an exception, since nature teaches that there is a creator-God behind the visible world. However, knowing God does not necessarily render illicit the worship of lesser gods. That principle was established in the positive law given at Sinai, expanding upon what may be “naturally evident” — that God is one — by limiting worship to this One alone. The Rabbis generally held the prohibition on idols not to be natural, but to have been among those laws given to Noah, an event recorded in the Oral rather than the Written Torah. (Mekilta on Exod 19.2, Sifre Deut 40, Sanhedrin 56a) The Rabbis are firm in stating there can be no sin nor crime unless an explicit warning and prohibition has been given in advance, i.e., a positive law: “The Lord does not punish unless he has previously declared such-and-such an action to be an offense.” (Sanhedrin 56b)
The problem with law, and its failure in bringing about unity among people, and between people and God, has already been exhaustively explored by Paul in Romans and Galatians, and Jesus in his tirades at the “Pharisees,” and need not be discussed at length here. Paul and Jesus were well within their religious tradition. The idea of the heteronomous law as ultimately ineffective without inner and autonomous conversion lies at the core of Ezekiel’s image of hearts of stone and hearts of flesh, (Ezek 11.19-20) and Jeremiah’s “law written on the heart” (Jer 31.33). The Rabbis too looked to a day when even Torah would pass away: when Messiah would come. (Niddah 61.b, Avodah Zarah 9a), the written Word of God would be fulfilled in the Living Word of God. The law could be a custodian and a guide, but more than law would be needed to lead humanity from the serpentine coils of self-interest into the gracious light of self-giving. The law would always be a well to which one would have to return time and again after each fall and repentance; what was needed was a means of grace like a spring of water welling up from within, so that one might never thirst again. (Jn 4.13-14) The law could only supply a sacrificial system that involved daily repetition of the same rites (Heb 10.11), which could never do away with the fundamental discord that sounds through human history like a cipher on an organ. What was needed was an intervention that would alter the system “once and for all.” (Heb 7.27)
So the fifth stage is punctuated by the Incarnation/Crucifixion/Resurrection, the “Christ Event” that marks the central point in salvation history, empowering the Flesh-Restrained-By-Law to be reborn in the Spirit (Rom 7-8). From an eternal standpoint, which is to say, God’s standpoint, God only performs a single mighty act of self-giving which to us (in the world of time) appears as a sequence of acts. The act of kenosis which begins Creation finds its definitive exposition in the Incarnation and its telos in the Cross, the ultimate Self chooses (and chooses to become one with) the ultimate Other — the creaturely order, particularly in the human — and experiences death-to-self, which is the antithesis of all that the evolutionary process has been built upon. In the Incarnation/Crucifixion/Resurrection we behold the self-giving of the Son in obedience to the Father by the power of the Spirit, the hinge point of the universe, the At-One-ment where God’s self-giving in Christ opens the way for transformation of a universe that until this point has known only self-assertion, self-preservation, and self-interest. This is, to return to our sacred vocabulary, the flowering of the Tree of Life, the Cross of Glory, balancing the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. In the eschatological sign of celibacy (Mt 19.12) Jesus overcomes the natural law of biology (self-in-progeny) and in the sign of the Cross overturns the natural law of self-preservation by giving himself for the life of the world.
In the Resurrection/Ascension the selfish universe is offered a Way towards redemption, by incorporation of the human (as the universe’s organ of self-perception) into the Body of Christ; as the old patristic tag stated it, “God became human that humans might become divine.” Following quickly, with Pentecost comes the self-giving of the Spirit from the Father through the em-Bodied Son (the Church), and the Christ-conscious self is enabled to self-sacrifice through incorporation in Christ, and the charismatic indwelling of the Spirit. The Christ-conscious person has put on Christ (Rom 13.14) so that it is no longer the old self that lives, but Christ that lives within one. (Gal 2.20) By incorporation into Christ, the human creature enters the life of the Trinity, where each member becomes one as the Father and the Son are one in the Spirit, (Jn 17.20-21) without division and without confusion or duality. (Col 3.10-11; 1 Cor 15.28)
This first section has demonstrated that only self-interest could build the world of the flesh through EVOLution; and that only perfected other-interest could build the world of the Spirit through LOVE. The maxim of other-interest given by Christ is summed up in the Golden Rule, which I will examine in the next section of this essay.

Notes
Note 1. Charles Williams’ He Came Down From Heaven is one such eloquent examination of the “wound of knowledge,” the creation of “otherness” and the miracle of love as the source of healing. Note as well Bonhoeffer’s analysis of the cost of coming to the “knowledge of good and evil.”[^]
Note 2. An analogous “creation” at the human level is the Great Pyramid: it endures precisely because its design encourages its endurance — well-designed pyramids don’t fall down, and their shape is ideal for resisting wind erosion. The pyramid builders no doubt based their structures on the sand dunes whose identity and endurance served as a model. I note in passing that the identity of an entity does not (as in the case of a sand dune or an ocean wave — or a human being) reside in the material of which the entity consists at any one moment; but in the enduring interrelation of many changeable parts in an identifiable whole over time. One of the most valuable insights of process theology lies in this distinction.[^]
Note 3. It can be observed that for one period in the history of the world Jeremy Bentham was perfectly correct in his assessments.[^]
Note 4. It is impossible to determine exactly at what point the fourth stage is entered. While it has been traditional to limit this fourth stage to humanity, questions raised by science and as yet unanswered to universal satisfaction concern when “humanity” begins, and whether other advanced creatures are self-conscious as we are. At this point there is, as far as I know, no firm evidence of consciousness-of-consciousness among other animals, however intelligent they may appear. It is important to avoid anthropomorphism, and reading “altruism” where there may only be an instinct to preserve the species, as in the behavior of the lapwing which “sacrifices” itself to protect its nest. It is, however, incumbent upon us in our treatment of all animals that we at least accord the possibility they may feel and be aware of more than we know.[^]
Note 5. The twentieth century was notable for its contributions to the artistic analysis of the divided mind. A recent example is the film “Being John Malkovich.”[^]
Note 6. This notion departs from Bonhoeffer’s understanding of the primary separation recognized as between “man” and God; I view the primary separation leading to the sense of sin to be between the self and the other. I would suggest that self-consciousness emerges in human history before God-consciousness develops. The first humans could not conceive of God before they could conceive of themselves and their fellows-as-others. This is the one point at which the Genesis-myth does disservice to the actuality of human history: there was no Eden in which God and humanity enjoyed easy familiarity, and which the Tree of Knowledge undid. Consciousness of (and hope for and faith in) God as unity only comes out of the pain of disunity.
I am also attempting to steer clear of the “privation of being” language used in Thomistic theology, and adapted in some modern ontological-existential theologies (i.e.,Macquarrie). My focus is on God not as Being but as Love, Giver-of-Perfect-Gift (Jm 1.17), most especially God’s Triune Self poured out in creation, redemption, and sanctification. Moreover, my philosophical roots do not permit me to see “being” as a quality of which an entity can have more or less.[^]
Note 7. See also Rom 1.32, Acts 17:30-31 for the positive nature of so-called natural moral law.[^]
Note 8. The importance of extinction in natural selection, and selective cell death in embryonic development are well-attested examples of this seeming paradox at work.[^]

August 31, 2007

Wrong Reason

In response to the previous post a discussion ensued concerning the difference between Richard Hooker’s conception of reason and of that of the Enlightenment. I suggested that Hooker’s use of the word is broader than that of the Enlightenment philosophers, but actually quite close to a contemporary understanding of reason as “rationality” — the ability to understand, think, and communicate. In short, this is not very far from what people today would call “common sense.” This understanding is far less rigorous than the “right reason” of the Stoic and later philosophers.

“Right reason” in the sense that Hooker uses the term is always contextual. It is not divorced from the world-view in which it finds itself, unlike the Enlightenment’s notion of an autonomous or pure reason. It is a rational faculty that is common to all people (other than infants and the mentally challenged), and it is in large part exercised in that community, rather than in autonomy. As Hooker put it,

Reason is the director of man’s Will by discovering in action what is good. For the Laws of well-doing are the dictates of right Reason. Children, which are not as yet come unto those years whereat they may have; again, innocents, which are excluded by natural defect from ever having; thirdly, madmen, which for the present cannot possibly have the use of right Reason to guide themselves, have for their guide the Reason that guideth other men; which are tutors over them to seek and to procure their good for them. In the rest there is that light of Reason, whereby good may be known from evil, and which discovering the same rightly is termed right. (I.7.4)

The problem with notions of “right reason” in a natural law context arise when defined as “the faculty which allows all people naturally to understand as good that which is good.” This can lead to the “no true Scotsman” fallacy:

No Scotsman drinks Irish whiskey.
But McPherson drinks Irish whiskey.
Ah, but then McPherson’s no true Scotsman!

For example, in the sexuality debate, it leads to the assertion that no rational person could see same-sexuality as good — and that therefore those who make the “choice” in favor of that “lifestyle” do so under the influence of a corrupted culture, or a deficient moral sense (the inability to see as bad that which is bad), or from mere perversity intentionally to do what they know is wrong. The failure here, of course, lies in the fact that those who oppose same-sexuality may equally be influenced by cultural or religious conditioning, a moral blindness (the inability to see as good that which is good) or even a willful perversity that desires wrongfully to control others with whom they disagree.

This is not to say that there may not be many moral principles that can indeed be held in common — but comparing the lists of such moral principles drawn up in various places and times shows that they differ considerably, particularly in the area of sexuality and the structures of family life; and so it is probably best to accept the fact that moral reason is strongly conditioned by culture — undercutting or at least minimizing the idea that a truly universal natural law or reason can be discerned from the examination of actual life.

As a Christian, I prefer (on the authority of the One who gave it) the Summary of the Law and more particularly the Golden Rule as rational rules of thumb for the discernment of morality. I hope to post a longer article on that subject shortly.

Tobias Haller BSG


July 10, 2005

Inside and Outside

A reflection on Moral and Ritual — Tobias S Haller BSG

At my most pessimistic I sometimes feel that the utility of Scripture in helping us better to understand our current situation may have reached its limit. Over the last several years I have grown weary of seeing texts tossed back and forth, twisting in the air as they fly, stretched beyond their capacity, or shrunk to insignificance. When I consider how little the Scripture actually says about the presenting issue, and how much of what it says is in a limited vocabulary of half-a-dozen Hebrew and Greek words — some so rare they are only understood by conjecture, others so capable of a range of figurative and literal application that they can mean almost anything one wants — and then take account of the energy of the debate, I begin to despair of Scripture’s providing us with a settlement to the matter.

I agree with Luther when he said that we cannot simply make any word of Scripture mean whatever we might like it to mean. But at the same time I have to affirm that the meaning of any given passage of Scripture is necessarily subject to interpretation; that the process of understanding what a text means isn’t optional — on the contrary it is the object of the exercise.

Contrary to those who assert the doctrine of sola scriptura, the Scripture does not (indeed cannot) interpret itself, although we may use one portion of Scripture better to understand another. But Anglicans do not allow the Scripture to stand alone, apart from reason, and the record of the church’s wrestling with those sometimes difficult texts. As Hooker put it,

The force of arguments drawn from the authority of Scripture itself, as Scriptures commonly are alleged, shall (being sifted) be found to depend upon the strength of this so much despised and debased authority of man. Surely it doth, and that oftener than we are aware of... Even such as are readiest to cite for one thing five hundred sentences of holy Scripture; what warrant have they, that any one of them doth mean the thing for which it is alleged? Is not their surest ground most commonly, either some probable conjecture of their own, or the judgment of others taking those Scriptures as they do? (Laws, II.7.8)
I do, however, think that there is a hermeneutical key to unlock the treasury, so that old and new can be brought forth. It lies with Jesus, and he left it to the church. Jesus was confronted by a number of religious questions concerning right and wrong. Some of it was presented in ways designed to trip him up; others seemed genuinely interested in finding the right way. So how did Jesus apply Scripture to these questions? As the wristband puts it, WWJD?

When Jesus set aside the dietary laws this was not simply meant as an end in itself. The dietary laws symbolized for him a whole approach to discerning morality that was based on “the outside.” (It should be noted that although Mark understood Jesus as “declaring all foods clean,” the question that was presented to him actually had to do with hand-washing, not food.) In any case, Jesus used this incident as an opportunity to reflect upon the locus of morality. Morality, he says, is not about what goes into one from the outside, but about what comes out of one, from the heart. In this, Jesus is advocating an ethic of disposition or intent, as opposed to an ethic based primarily upon a list of externally exercised do’s and don’ts, which finds its most primitive form in moralities based on taboo and purity. As I also noted in an earlier comment on God’s Shellfish Argument, this contrast was addressed in Peter’s miraculous vision of the sheet let down from heaven; and he rightly understood that this was not about a change in the dietary laws, but about how people are to be treated — not as unclean because of practice or nation, but as capable of receiving the love of God. It is abundantly clear that Jesus had little patience with the focus on external purity as a means to please God; and Saint Paul continued this teaching — see Col 2:21-23 and 1Tim4:3-5 — although, given his Pharisee training even he occasionally slipped from grace into law!

The other locus classicus for Jesus’ teaching on morality resides in the summary of the law and the “Golden Rule.” Jesus reduces the specifics of the Decalogue to the love of God and neighbor, with the rather subjective touchstone of doing as one would be done by. Even his critics recognized the wisdom in this approach.

So, bearing these two keys in mind, when I return to the actual text (this is the vitally important task) and look at the passages that are traditionally advanced against any allowance for same-sex sexuality, I have to ask, are these moral prohibitions, based upon the disposition of the heart, or are they rather primarily ritual or cultic matters related to external acts? Do these prohibitions take account of either the love of God and neighbor, or the subjective judgment of mutuality and responsive care, or are they simply absolute and categorical?

If I may give one last parallel example, How did Jesus relate to the question of the sabbath? The text of the law is rather abundantly clear; it is explicitly categorical in listing all the categories! Yet Jesus recognized circumstances in which this clarity was forced to bend to charity — the rigorous interpretation that one could do no work of any kind is bent to allow the doing of works of love and care. The sabbath exists not as an end in itself, but as a means to the rest and refreshment and betterment of human beings.

This is where I and some of my colleagues have been trying to pitch the discussion. The various arguments from a surmised “complementarity” of the sexes are still to my mind too much concerned with the “outside” — the sexual dimorphism that we share with most of the animals and some of the vegetables — rather than with the “inside” which is what truly makes us human, and wherein resides our similarity with God: in the capacity to reason and to love. The dismissal of all same-sex relationships, without regard to anything other than the gender of the parties, the explicit declaration that all this talk of love is irrelevant to the question, does not strike me as being in keeping with the ethical world of Jesus Christ.

Although I am loath to add to Scripture, the following application of what I’ve said above occurs to me, purely as an imaginative exercise:

Some lawyers came to Jesus and said to him, Teacher, we found two men who have set up household and live together after the manner of a man and wife. Shall we do unto them as it is written in the law of Moses? And he said unto them, For your hardness of heart Moses gave you this law. But it was not so at the beginning, when God made companions for Adam and allowed him to choose the one suitable to him, the one who was most like him. And they said to him, but was not that Eve, the mother of all living? And he said to them, Do not be deceived, ‘the Lord does not see as mortals see’ — you lawyers and Pharisees look only to the outside, and do not look to the heart. But God knows what is inside a man, and it is from inside that true love flows. And do you not know that when Jonathan looked upon David his soul was bound to him, and he loved him as his own self, and gave up his life for his friend? David spoke rightly when he said there is no greater love than this. If these two should set up their lives together, what is that to you? Love the Lord your God, and do not judge.

As I say, this is purely imaginative. But it does strike me as in keeping with the Gospel.

July 1, 2005

Episcopal Church Against Scripture

Erik Nelson has contributed a fascinating and typical work on behalf of the Institute for Religion and Democracy (IRD): fascinating in its use of false analogy and the slippery slope, and typical in its disregard for the actual text of Scripture, and unsupported assertions and generalizations.

For example, take the reference to Plato's Symposium. Nelson is referring to Aristophanes' famed description of the origin of sexual orientation in the splitting of primeval beings into halves. There is no evidence that Saint Paul was aware of this work, which, since it contradicts Genesis he would no doubt have dismissed out of hand. It is also abundantly clear from Romans 1 that Saint Paul did not believe in intrinsic homosexual orientation (which is "explained" by the story in Plato), but rather saw it as a perversion brought about as a consequence of idolatry. (Paul presages the Talmudic notion that this is a Genitle problem, not a Jewish one; a similar phenomenon exists in Africa today, in which homosexuality is rendered socially invisible. These come together in +Malango's recent comment that it is absurd to suggest that David and Jonathan may have had a sexual relationship because they were "married men." Apparently the "down low" is a phenomenon with which many wish to remain unfamiliar!) It is not difficult to believe that Saint Paul would reject the notion of intrinsic sexual orientation in the first century when there are plenty of "reasserters" out there right now who do the same, even in the light of abundant evidence to the contrary.

As to the changing nature of "morality" which Nelson seems to find so troubling, even his examples fail. Slavery is not simply tolerated in Scripture. It is mandated in certain instances, and approved in others. After all, Adam was created as God's "eved" -- the ambiguous Hebrew word for servant or slave -- and God's liberation of the Israelites from Egypt was not absolute -- it was because God was reclaiming his rightful property, whom he "bought" or "purchased" -- as Christ did the church! The language of slavery is intimately bound up with the mystery of salvation. It is true that by the time of Paul we get a more luke-warm tolerance of human slavery but note that Paul analogizes slavery with the proper relationships of obedience between the believer and Christ, in much the same way as he analogizes the relationship between husband and wife. But nowhere in Scripture is slavery condemned as immoral in itself. It was not until the 19th century that the challenges rose to the level of condemnation, denying the right of any person to take possession of another.

Ultimately it comes down to the question: What is moral? I can perfectly understand some folks who read, for example, Leviticus 18 and 20 and come away saying "These are eternal moral Laws to govern humanity forever." There does seem to be a tendency to group anything having to do with sex under the category of "moral." The problem is that some people skip over the laws they don't like to think about, or which would demand more of them then they desire to give. And I'm not talking about what Kendall calls the "shellfish" laws -- although one should note that the Christian distinction between "moral" and "ritual" is not in itself an OT idea; God told the people to obey _all_ of the Law.

Now of course, Jesus made distinctions about the law: quite obviously the "dietary" law. But he also touched on other of the Laws of Moses, for example concerning divorce. He held that the Law of Moses in this regard was a concession to human hardness of heart, and not part of God's original intent. Now that's quite astounding, don't you think, if you are going to regard everything in the Law of Moses as always reflecting God's will (or "being God's word"). Doesn't it raise a question in your mind that there might be other "moral" matters on which Moses' law is an _imperfect_ and all too human reflection of God's actual will for human beings? I'm not saying this "proves" anything, but it should give one pause before talking about "Scripture" as if it were a uniform body of laws all of which are equally valid and equally eternal and unchanging.

Let me give another example: a man divorces his wife and she marries another man. The second husband dies. Would it be "moral" for the first husband to remarry her? (This actually happened to my paternal grandmother, so it is close to home; she and my grandfather divorced, and then my grandfather remarried her largely because he wanted to be a real father to his biological son, my father, as he was growing up.) I think most people would find no problem with this from a moral perspective. Nor, as far as I know, would the church forbid such a remarriage. Yet the Bible does, and in no uncertain terms. Deuteronomy 24:1-4 even goes so far as to call this an abomination (using exactly the same terminology applied to certain male homosexual acts in Leviticus. (See also Jeremiah 3:1)

I think one of the problems is that people tend to see anything having to do with sex as "moral" -- when it can actually be cultic or cultural or even social. In the section of Leviticus dealing with incest and homosexuality, for instance, a man sleeping with his wife during her period is harshly condemned and entails a serious penalty. (Ezekiel continues the refrain on this wickedness.) But I doubt many people today would regard that as a _moral_ question, even if they find it distasteful.

So it is evident that some things about morality do change over time, and from culture to culture; and contrary to Nelson's slippery slope argument, it is not true that if one thing changes then everything must.

Christ gave us a standard for morality: it is called the Golden Rule. And he gave us the charge not to judge others, but to do good to others, in accord with this principle. This is the touchstone for morality from the mouth of the Son of God. We do well to hear what he says, and see all else through that lens of understanding.

Nelson's article is at Episcopal Church Delegates Argue Against Scripture, Not From It