The field of “disability studies” emerged in Britain and North America in the 1980s and 1990s. For the most part, scholars who work in this field use the term disability to refer to a chronic physical or cognitive condition that impairs someone, and the expression persons with disabilities to signify people affected by this condition. The disability community generally prefers the term persons with disabilities to disabled persons because the latter seems to call into question the full humanity of persons with disabilities. The use of the term handicap, in turn, functions as a means of highlighting society’s lack of support for persons with disabilities; disabilities, scholars suggest, are not conditions that inherently “handicap” a person’s ability to flourish, but these conditions do function as handicaps within a society that fails to address adequately the needs and experiences of persons with disabilities.
In recent decades attention to the experience of persons with disabilities has raised challenges
about the portrayals of disability in Scripture. Although the Bible does not specifically speak about “disabilities” as contemporary scholars understand them, scriptural depictions of the “blind,” the “deaf,” and the “lame,” along with other physical and mental impairments, have implications for how contemporary Christians understand the nature of disability. The introduction to a recent volume on portrayals of disability in Scripture contends that accounts of physical and cognitive difference in Scripture have contributed to a “continuum of attitudes” regarding disability, and that many of these attitudes are “still reflected in the present” (Avalos, Melcher, and Schipper 4).
Moral and theological reflection on disability raises several questions that draw Scripture and ethics together. We can examine many of these questions by relating disability to three theological topics: the nature of personhood, the contours of the people of God, and the meaning of suffering.
Disability and Personhood
The notion that humans are conceived in God’s image is an important scriptural affirmation (Gen. 1:26-27). Through the centuries, Christians have debated the precise sense in which humans exist in God’s image. Some theologians have historically associated the image of God with human reasoning or with the capacity for rational judgment. Others link the idea of imago Dei to the human body and specifically focus on our physically “upright” nature, which distinguishes us from many animals. Abraham Berinyuu argues that both conceptions of imago Dei are problematic for persons with cognitive or physical disabilities. These accounts of the imago Dei imply that persons with disabilities are less than fully human, and that their disabilities prevent them from imaging God. Berinyuu contends that, more recently, appeals to God’s image have been used to substantiate the idea that all persons have a fundamental dignity and are worthy of respect. He expresses concern, however, that this affirmation implicitly places a greater burden on persons with disabilities to be perfect and puts them in a position where they are blamed when they fall short of perfection (Be-rinyuu 202-5).
Berinyuu’s concern that particular interpretations of imago Dei exclude persons with disabilities runs parallel to misgivings expressed by many Christian ethicists that certain arguments in bioethics imply that persons with disabilities are less than fully human. Many scholars suggest that the discourse central to medical ethics and bioethics seems to promote and foster a narrow understanding of what it means to be human, an understanding tied to a specific vision of health and self-determination. For example, Mark Ku-czewski suggests that many conversations in contemporary bioethics tend to focus on new technologies that fix or prevent medical conditions and that foster a vision of ideal humans as autonomous, self-directed agents. Such an account of human nature indicates that dependence on others is a quality to be shunned, and that persons with cognitive or physical disabilities are not fully human because they exhibit this dependence.
Berinyuu argues that we can overcome the problems inherent in positions that deprive persons with disabilities of full humanity by looking to the incarnate Jesus Christ as a model for understanding what it means to be human. An affirmation of Christ as the image of God points to an understanding of this image as fully consonant with weakness and vulnerability. The notion of the crucified Christ as God’s “disabled body” (an insight originally offered by Nancy Eiesland) points to ways in which a focus on Christ gives rise to an understanding of personhood consistent with experiences of disability. Christ becomes disabled through his crucifixion and death, and Martin Albl suggests that as subsequent generations of followers seek to die and be raised in Christ, they are choosing to participate in Christ’s disability; we see this theme in several Pauline Epistles (Rom. 6:3; 8:17; 2 Cor. 4:10; Gal. 2:19; Phil. 3:10).
Disability and the People of God
A study of disabilities in Scripture also raises a question about the status of persons with disabilities in relation to the people of God. Amos Yong observes that many Scripture passages associate disability with an impurity or defilement that is incompatible with God’s holiness. Leviticus 21:16-23 excludes persons with disabilities from approaching God’s sanctuary and making a sacrificial offering. And from 2 Sam. 5:8b we may infer that “the blind and the lame” will not be able to enter J erusalem, although both Anthony Ceresko and Jeremy Schipper argue that this statement functions as a rhetorical strategy for emphasizing the irony in the shifts of fortune that David experiences. The opposition between disability and holiness is reinforced by passages that characterize disability as a condition that makes healing a prerequisite for cleanliness. For example, several passages in the OT imply a connection between disability and sin (Deut. 28:15-68; Pss. 6; 32; 38; 51; 102; 143). Some narratives in the Gospels connect disability to the activity of demons or evil spirits (Matt. 9:32-33; 12:22-24; 17:15-18; Luke 13:11). Blindness functions as a metaphor in Matt.
23 and John 9 for the foolishness of the Pharisees, and NT Epistles likewise contain frequent references to disability as a metaphor for an immoral or wicked character (Rom. 11:7, 25; 2 Cor. 4:4; Eph. 4:18; 2 Pet. 1:9; 1 John 2:11) (Yong 19-28).
Although many Scripture passages characterize disability as a condition that requires healing, others affirm that the blind and the lame will be part of God’s eschatological community without explicitly indicating that these persons must be healed prior to inclusion (Isa. 33:23b; Jer. 31:8-9; Mic. 4:6-7; Zeph. 3:19). Moreover, Mikeal Parsons draws from Luke 13; 19; Acts 3-4; 8 to argue that a major emphasis of Luke-Acts is an affirmation that all persons should be included in the eschatological community, regardless of physical appearance. He contends that Luke’s narrative challenges the assumption that physical appearance and moral character are linked (Parsons 298-303). It seems clear, then, that there exists a scriptural witness to the idea that persons with disabilities should be included in God’s people.
But what should this inclusion look like? Many Scripture passages treat persons with disabilities (along with others who are marginalized within society) as persons who are objects of God’s particular care and who deserve special compassion from God’s people. Texts such as Job 29:12-17; Jer. 31:8; Zeph. 3:19, along with Jesus’ healing ministry (see, e.g., Mark 5:1-20; 10:46-52; Luke 5:17-26; 7:11-17; 8:49-56; 9:37-43; 13:10-13; John 5:1-18), support this idea that God cares for those who have disabilities. But from the vantage point of contemporary disability studies, such passages can appear to treat persons with disabilities as passive objects of pity, an image that runs counter to their empowerment. Contemporary theologians advocate the pursuit of ecclesial practices that embrace the experience of persons with disabilities so that their participation in the church may go beyond being recipients of charity. Stanley Hauerwas contends that the character of the church should be a central moral focus for all Christians, in part because Christians all need to learn to care for the “other” without discriminating (even unintentionally) against persons whom we perceive to be other than ourselves (Hauerwas 172). Yong discusses specific practices through which Christians can work to incorporate persons with disabilities into the ministry of the church through the assistance of the Holy Spirit. He argues that attentiveness to disability requires rethinking the meaning and nature of the sacraments, worship, and discipleship to be open to taking seriously the humanity of persons with disabilities, particularly cognitive disabilities (Yong 193-226).
Disability and Suffering
From the vantage point of the Christian tradition, the meaning of suffering may not appear to be of exclusive import to a conversation regarding disabilities. Several passages in Scripture recognize suffering as part of all humans’ experience. But reflection on the meaning and purpose of suffering is helpful for understanding both the biblical witness regarding disability and the possible contributions of Christian theology to contemporary conversations in ethics. Scholars attentive to disability have suggested that Christ’s healing narratives are ambiguous because they treat disability as a condition that must be overcome in order for someone to have a fulfilling and purposeful life. But the broader witness of Scripture points to an account of suffering as an experience consistent with taking part in God’s ministry. This affirmation is important because, as ethicists are increasingly recognizing, a belief that persons with disabilities suffer has troubling consequences for practices in contemporary healthcare ethics.
Although many Christians affirm that God does not cause or intend suffering, several narratives in Scripture show that God is able to bring about good even in the midst of suffering. The Scriptures proclaim that the incarnate Jesus Christ suffered, and that this suffering was redemptive for humanity. Christ suffered physical pain during the crucifixion and the emotional pain of abandonment by his friends. Christ’s endurance of suffering is foundational for humanity’s redemption, for their forgiveness of sin and reconciliation with God, and this suffering provides us with meaning and hope in the midst of our suffering, giving us a sense that when we suffer, we are taking part in an experience that God in Christ endured as well (Rom. 8:16-25).
The scriptural demand for justice challenges Christians to fight forms of discrimination that cause suffering. Many scholars point out that much of the suffering experienced by persons with disabilities is rooted not in the disability itself but rather in their struggle to work within a society in which they experience discrimination (Hauerwas 172). But insofar as some measure of suffering may be inherent in some disabilities, the biblical affirmation that suffering may be redemptive counters theologically troubling arguments that arise in healthcare ethics at the beginning and end of life. One example of this sort of argument often takes place when a prenatal test demonstrates that the genetic makeup of an embryo prefigures cognitive disabilities such as Tay-Sachs disease or Down syndrome. Parents often are encouraged to terminate a pregnancy in these circumstances, partly on the grounds that a child with a disability is likely to suffer more than most. If parents choose to bring the child to birth, some ethicists suggest, they will be producing more suffering in the world. Hans Reinders argues that this perception of suffering is harmful because it implicitly suggests that the world would be a happier place if people with disabilities had not been born (Reinders 160).
A narrative that understands suffering to have a redemptive value challenges the cultural perception that suffering makes one’s life less meaningful or worthwhile and should be avoided at all costs. The Scriptures witness to the idea that God’s redemptive activity can occur even, perhaps especially, in the midst of suffering.
See also Bioethics; Healthcare Ethics; Image of God; Mental Health; Narrative Ethics, Biblical; Narrative Ethics, Contemporary; Sanctity of Human Life; Suffering
Bibliography
Albl, M. “ ‘For Whenever I Am Weak, Then I Am Strong’: Disability in Paul’s Epistles.” Pages 145—58 in This Abled Body: Rethinking Disabilities in Biblical Studies, ed. H. Avalos, S. Melcher, and J. Schipper. Semeia 55. Society of Biblical Literature, 2007; Avalos, H., S. Melcher, and J. Schipper, “Introduction.” Pages 1—12 in This Abled Body: Rethinking Disabilities in Biblical Studies, ed. H. Avalos, S. Melcher, and J. Schipper. Semeia 55. Society of Biblical Literature, 2007; Berinyuu, A. “Healing and Disability.” IJPT 8 (2004): 202—11; Ceresko, A. “The Identity of ‘the Blind and the Lame’ in 2 Samuel 5:8b.” CBQ 63 (2001): 23—30; Eiesland, N. The Disabled God: Toward a Liberation Theology of Disability. Abingdon, 1994; Hauerwas, S. Suffering Presence: Theological Reflections on Medicine, the Mentally Handicapped, and the Church. University of Notre Dame Press, 1986; Kuczewski, M. “Disability: An Agenda for Bioethics.” AJB 1 (2001): 36—44; Parsons, M. “The Character of the Lame Man in Acts 3—4.” JBL 124 (2005): 295—312; Reinders, H. The Future of the Disabled in Liberal Society: An Ethical Analysis. University of Notre Dame Press, 2000; Schipper, J. “Reconsidering the Imagery of Disability in 2 Samuel 5:8b.” CBQ 67 (2005): 422—34; Yong, A. Theology and Down Syndrome: Reimagining Disability in Late Modernity. Baylor University Press, 2007.
Elizabeth Agnew Cochran
Although moral discernment is an activity of central importance in the Bible, it is not in any simple sense used as a biblical term. There is no single word in Hebrew or Greek consistently translated as “discern” or “discernment.” Conversely, the English word discernment renders various Hebrew and Greek words, even within a single translation.
Multiple models of discernment are offered in the OT, corresponding to how God’s will is made known in different contexts. Guidance is frequently given to the patriarchs in dreams and visions, and Joseph (Gen. 40-41) and later Daniel (Dan. 1:17-2:45) are identified as men of discernment based on their ability to interpret dreams in times of crisis. After the promulgation of covenant law, discernment is identified with careful adherence to the commandments and precepts of God. The trait called “discernment” or “prudence” throughout wisdom literature combines moral, religious, and practical insight. Psalms and Proverbs are full of prayers and petitions for such discernment, closely related to piety and the fear of God. Likewise, it is discernment that enables the judges and the kings of Israel to offer true judgments and wise leadership, as in the “understanding mind” for which Solomon prays and thus wins the favor of God (1 Kgs. 3:7-14). In addition, there is special discernment including foresight bestowed on the prophets for leading the people in times of crisis and catastrophe. Framed as the word of God coming to the prophet, this is regarded as a distinctive gift, and it is as seers specially called by God that the great prophets exercise their authority. Discernment is understood to include the ability to discriminate between true and false teachings and true and false prophets, guidance for which is given in the law. Finally, prophets such as Joel and Jeremiah speak of God bestowing moral vision and insight on God’s people as a whole, so that the gift of discernment becomes more widespread (Joel 2:28-29), and the wisdom and holiness of divine law may be secured in the heart of all Israel (Jer. 31:33-34).
The narratives of the NT display similar variety, including special discernment through dreams and visions (e.g., Joseph’s dreams [Matt. 1:20-21; 2:13, 19-20], Zechariah’s vision in the temple [Luke 1:8-20], Peter’s vision at Joppa [Acts 10:9-16]) and particular revelations of the Holy Spirit granted to individuals, especially in relation to recognizing the Christ (e.g., Elizabeth on Mary’s visit [Luke 1:41-45], Simeon and Anna in the temple [Luke 2:25-38]). The descent of the Spirit at Pentecost is explicitly linked to Joel’s prophecy of a general dispensation of spirit-bestowed insight (Acts 2:16-18). In Paul’s letters, discernment is spoken of both as a general aspect of the life of faith among those led by the Spirit and as a particular spiritual gift dispensed for the sake of the whole community (1 Cor. 12:10). Thus, Paul can make being led by the Spirit a defining characteristic of those who belong to Christ (Rom. 8:9) and urge believers to be transformed by the renewing of their minds so that they can “discern the will of God” (Rom. 12:2). It is the Spirit alone who can make known the things of God (1 Cor. 2:10-16), and it is to the Spirit’s presence in him that Paul appeals when offering moral judgment and advice beyond the word of the Lord to the churches (e.g., 1 Cor. 7:40).
The richness and diversity of biblical models of moral discernment are reflected in the later development of Christian moral theology. Appeals to revelation through dreams and visions do not abruptly disappear, but they do become more problematic as successive generations try to define and transmit a coherent faith and way of life. Orthodoxy insists on testing individual judgment and revelation by the standard of apostolic teaching and by the consensus of the community gathered in prayer and worship. Over time, a more formal interpretive tradition arises, along with a casuistry that applies general biblical principles (one may not do evil so that good may come [Rom. 3:8]) to particular cases. In the developed forms of virtue ethics, visual metaphors for moral life such as vision, illumination, and discernment itself come to full flower, with the definition of the preeminent moral virtue of prudence as a cultivated ability to see truthfully. This tradition retains the underlying unity of moral and spiritual life found in biblical models, grounding moral judgment and insight in the practices of the faith. It has regained prominence in recent decades.
See also Holy Spirit; Moral Formation; Virtue(s) Bibliography
Hollinger, D. Choosing the Good: Christian Ethics in a Complex World. Baker Academic, 2002; Porter, J. The Recovery of Virtue: The Relevance of Aquinas for Christian Ethics. University of Notre Dame Press, 1990.
Sondra E. Wheeler
In Scripture, “discipline” refers to correction, teaching, and punishment initiated and carried out by persons in positions of authority for the sake of one in need. Scripture refers explicitly to two kinds of authoritative relationships with regard to discipline: those between God and God’s people, and those between parents and children. However, Paul’s letters refer to discipline more broadly in the context of relationships within the church.
Discipline is a necessary component of loving God and for the development of good character. The writer of Hebrews captures the yield of discipline as the “peaceful fruit of righteousness” (Heb. 12:11). Discipline should not be confused with mere punishment. The goal of discipline is to engender obedience and love and to share in God’s holiness (Heb. 12).
In some cases, discipline is welcomed. For example, the wisdom literature contains numerous references to discipline as the way to inculcate virtues such as justice, equity, righteousness, prudence, knowledge, insight, understanding, courage, kindness, honesty, and piety. The constellation of virtues that emerges from living under discipline saves persons from evil and for life and the favor of the Lord. In other cases, discipline is refused, most often due to foolishness or the inability to hear and obey. The OT describes persons in such cases as destined to walk in the ways of darkness. Retrieving the familial metaphor, Hebrews goes so far as to say that those who do not share in God’s discipline are not his children. This analogy refers to the fact that discipline legitimates one’s identity as belonging to someone. Connecting discipline with identity retrieves the Gospel usage of disciples as called by Christ to become followers of him.
The Christian tradition includes the following under discipline: (1) discipline connotes a whole way of life that gives shape to authority and accountability within the church and serves as a witness to the world; (2) discipline covers practices that adhere to various forms of asceticism, to specific codes such as holiness codes and household codes, and to ethical mandates such as the Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes; (3) discipline includes punishment for wrongdoing in order to form persons for love.
Most simply, discipline is about the community of faith habituating persons to become disciples of Jesus Christ in all aspects of life. It also calls individuals to submit to Christian formation and to the disciplines that bring about Christian character. The end of Christian discipline is a community that witnesses to the good news that Christ has died, Christ has risen, and Christ is coming again.
See also Accountability; Asceticism; Beatitudes; Holiness Code; Household Codes; Practices; Punishment; Ten Commandments
Bibliography
Berkman, J. “Being Reconciled: Penitence, Punishment, and Worship.” Pages 95-109 in The Blackwell Companion to Christian Ethics, ed. S. Hauerwas and S. Wells. Blackwell, 2004; Bonhoeffer, D. The Cost of Discipleship. SCM, 1959; Foster, R. A Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth. HarperCollins, 1978; Norris, K. Acedia and Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life. Penguin Books, 2008.
Michelle Clifton-Soderstrom
Traditionally, to be “discriminating” is a sign of good taste, and ethics requires us to discriminate good from bad, fair from unfair, and so forth. Much Jewish law is based on discrimination— for example, to distinguish what is clean and may be eaten from that which is forbidden (Lev. 11). Equally, Jesus’ parables of judgment include images of discrimination between wheat and weeds, good fish and bad fish, or sheep and goats (Matt. 13:24-30, 36-43, 47-50; 25:31-46).
However, discrimination as currently defined concerns the exclusion of a person or group of persons based solely on class or category. It is an unacceptable practice in contemporary social ethics. It is illegal in the workplace, and to be suspected of discrimination in any form can be disastrous. Equally, the OT asserts that the justice of God does not discriminate between people. Unlike some humans, God does not take bribes and is impartial; literally, “he does not wonder at, or respect, someone’s face” (Deut. 10:17; 2 Chr. 19:7). Israel’s judges and leaders are similarly instructed not to show partiality (Lev. 19:15; Prov. 18:5; see also Job 34:19). It is a mark of other gods and other nations to show partiality, especially to the wicked (Ps. 82:1-2). Divine impartiality is also found throughout deuterocanonical literature, where “the Lord is the judge, and with him there is no partiality” (Sir. 35:15; see also Wis. 6:7; T. Job 4.7-8; 1 Esd. 4:39). Jouette Bassler demonstrates how divine impartiality is axiomatic throughout the OT, postcanonical and rabbinic literature, as well as in Philo. Significantly, however, it is not applied to the relationships between Jews and gentiles (Bassler 185).
In the NT, this impartiality of God develops significant ethical implications. Here, God is also described as “the one who judges all people impartially,” using the same image about having regard for someone’s face (1 Pet. 1:17). This idea appears at the start of Peter’s speech to Cornelius: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality” (Acts 10:34)—God is no “respecter of people’s faces.” Earlier, the Spirit tells Peter to go and meet Cornelius’s envoys meden diakrinomenos (Acts 10:20), which at first sight could simply mean “not hesitating.” However, in Peter’s later reports the same verb clearly means “without discriminating” (Acts 11:12), and that God has made no distinction “between them and us”—that is, Jews and gentiles (Acts 15:9).
This application of divine impartiality to the social, racial, and religious distinctions within the ancient world had radical ethical implications.
Jewish and Greco-Roman beliefs in the impartiality of God did not prevent widespread discrimination in societies where only free adult males of a certain standing had rights. Thus, Jewish men thanked God in their morning prayers for the three blessings: God did not make them a gentile, a slave or peasant, or a woman (t. Ber. 7.18; y. Ber. 13b; b. Menah 43b). Similarly, various Greek philosophers are credited with the statement of gratitude that they were born “a human being and not a beast, a man and not a woman, and a Greek not a barbarian” (Diogenes Laertius, Lives 1.33; Plutarch, Mar. 46.1; Lactantius, Inst. 3.19.17).
Such attitudes were worked out in practical
codes prescribing obedience from the inferior to the superior, such as wives to husbands, slaves to
masters, or children to parents. Although similar “household codes” are found in the NT (Col. 3:18-4:1; Eph. 5:21-6:9; see also 1 Pet. 2:13-3:8), significantly they contain a degree of mutual submission “to one another out of reverence for Christ” (Eph. 5:21), which provides duties also for the husbands, masters, and fathers.
However, Gal. 3:28 provides the clearest statement of nondiscrimination, which cuts across all ancient social barriers: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” As Douglas Campbell states, “Paul baldly negates three standard bifurcations of society . . . concerning ethnicity, slavery, and/ or gender” (109). Similar statements are found in 1 Cor. 12:13; Col. 3:11; and behind the structure of 1 Cor. 7:17-28.
Racial Discrimination—Neither Jew nor Greek
Arguing against the Judaizers from Jerusalem in Galatians, Paul uses the standard Jewish idea that “God shows no partiality,” taking account of a person’s face (Gal. 2:6). However, it is significant that, as he builds his argument about the relationship of Jews and gentiles, he breaks through into the radical application of such divine impartiality to this key racial, cultural, and religious divide to affirm that “there is no longer Jew or Greek . . . in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28). This radical insight lies at the heart of Paul’s argument in the opening chapters of Romans that both Jews and Greeks are accountable to God and face judgment, apart from the law or under the law, “for God shows no partiality,” using the Hebrew image again (Rom. 2:11) (see Bassler 121-70).
Unfortunately, the subsequent history of relations between Christians and Jews reveals a sad story of far too much discrimination and persecution, from the early church through the pogroms of the Middle Ages to the Holocaust, while the consequences of this history are still felt in the relationships of Jews, Arabs, Palestinians, and all in the Middle East today. Nonetheless, Paul’s insight stands against all forms of racial discrimination and was a source of inspiration in the civil rights struggle and also in the campaign against apartheid (see Burridge 347-409).
Social Discrimination—Neither Slave nor Free The couplet about slave and free is repeated in 1 Cor. 12:13; Col. 3:11, yet Paul seems surprisingly “relaxed and non-committal about the institution of slavery itself” (Longenecker 54). In 1 Cor. 7:21-24 the issue is subordinated to eschatological pressure, and elsewhere Paul returns the runaway slave Onesimus to Philemon, although his subversive rhetoric appeals to a new relationship (Phlm. 16-24). God’s impartiality is applied to slavery in the household codes (Eph. 6:9; Col. 3:25), and this is later picked up in Did. 4.10; Barn. 19.7. Paul’s Christology probably does most to undermine slavery, both his self-description as “slave of Christ” (see Martin 147-49) and his appeal to the imitation of Jesus, who emptied himself to take “the form of a slave” (Phil. 2:5-7).
Once again, however, the church took a long time to accept the implications of nondiscrimination regarding slavery, as it continued to be justified from the early fathers through to Augustine (see Longenecker 60-65) and on to the nineteenth-century abolitionist controversies and the American Civil War (see Swartley 31-37, 278-79). In today’s world, where it is thought that more people are enslaved than any time previously, not to mention the huge inequalities between the developed and developing nations, this remains a challenge.
Sexual Discrimination—Neither Male nor Female
It is significant that although issues of sexuality and gender were not relevant to Paul’s argument in Galatians, he cannot help himself running on to apply his nondiscriminatory principle to “no longer male and female,” evoking the language of Gen. 1:17. While some other passages in the Pauline corpus appear to be negative about women (e.g., 1 Cor. 11:2-16; 14:33-36), Paul’s letters often end with commendations of women as his “coworkers” (Rom. 16:1-7; 1 Cor. 16:19; Phil. 4:2-3).
As with our other two areas, the Christian tradition includes a sad history of discrimination
against women, particularly regarding their role in church leadership. Galatians 3:28 lies at the heart of current debate, with some arguing that the equality espoused relates only to its context of baptism (3:27), while others apply it also to ministry; Longenecker (92) suggests that those who stress creation tend toward subordination, whereas emphasizing redemption leads to more equality. Similar arguments also apply to the related issues regarding divorced ministers and homosexuals. Some argue that the common prohibition on the ordination of homosexuals is another form of discrimination, like apartheid or slavery or repression of women, and most laws against discrimination apply to sexual orientation as much as other areas. Others respond that biblical and theological considerations require that this area be treated differently. Campbell (112-31) applies his theological model of understanding Paul’s gospel to the implications of Gal. 3:28 for the “case study” of “gay ordination.” He argues that homosexuality is not an issue of the first order over which churches should be splitting.
Thus, the issue of discrimination remains a challenge for those seeking to apply the Scriptures to ethics. As we recognize the blind spots and history of oppression in the Christian tradition, so there may be areas that we do not perceive today but that, under guidance of the Spirit, future generations will come to see as discrimination.
See also Anti-Semitism; Apartheid; Civil Rights; Ethnic Identity, Ethnicity; Liberationist Ethics; Race; Racism; Sex and Sexuality; Slavery; Women, Status of
Bibliography
Bassler, J. Divine Impartiality: Paul and a Theological Axiom. SBLDS 59. Scholars Press, 1982; Burridge, R. Imitating Jesus: An Inclusive Approach to New Testament Ethics. Eerdmans, 2007; Campbell, D. The Quest for Paul’s Gospel: A Suggested Strategy. JSNTSup 274. T&T Clark, 2005; Longenecker, R. New Testament Social Ethics for Today. Eerdmans, 1984; Martin, D. Slavery as Salvation: The Metaphor of Slavery in Pauline Christianity. Yale University Press, 1990; Swartley, W. Slavery, Sabbath, War and Women: Case Issues in Biblical Interpretation. Herald Press, 1983.
Richard A. Burridge
Scripture frequently condemns dishonesty, opposing this quality to God’s truthful and righteous nature. For example, Deut. 25:16 presents dishonest behavior as abhorrent to God. Writings of the prophets characterize Israel’s dishonesty as a sign of its failure to uphold its part in the covenant with God (Isa. 59; Jer. 8; Ezek. 22). The NT Epistles caution against false prophets (2 Cor. 11:13; Gal. 2:4; 2 Thess. 2:11; 1 John 4:1) and contrast humanity’s “false” character with God’s truthfulness (Rom. 3:4; Heb. 6:18). These texts suggest that God’s people should be committed to true actions and true speech.
Truthfulness in deeds and language helps to preserve the relations of human beings with God and among themselves.
At the same time, several passages in the OT suggest the plausibility of arguing that prudential deception is morally justifiable and even praiseworthy. For example, 1 Sam. 19 recalls instances when Jonathan and Michal practice deception to protect David from Saul. This motif of deception among persons under God’s protection is reiterated throughout the book of Genesis. Jacob and his mother, Rebekah, secure Jacob’s birthright by deceiving Jacob’s father, Isaac (Gen. 27). Jacob later “outwits” his father-in-law, Laban, and acquires much of his property through questionable means (Gen. 30:25-31:42). Jacob’s sons deceive and murder a group of Canaanites to avenge their sister’s sexual assault (Gen. 34). These and other examples seem to indicate that calculated and strategic acts of deception are not incompatible with the character of God’s chosen people.
It is not clear that these scriptural stories function to endorse prudential dishonesty. Trickery is also associated with more clearly problematic figures such as Cain (Gen. 4:9) and can ultimately be traced back to the serpent in Eden, who tricks Adam and Eve into eating the fruit of the garden (Gen. 3:1-7). But these stories do demonstrate the complexity involved in defining honesty and dishonesty. The historical Christian tradition has acknowledged this complication and allows for some distinction to be made between intentional falsehood and occasional trickery. Augustine denounces falsehood as immoral but is willing to praise Jacob’s deception of Isaac on the grounds that Jacob’s actions signify the truth that he is the proper recipient of Isaac’s inheritance. John Chrysostom goes further. He aligns some instances of trickery with prudential wisdom and argues that deception can be justified when it is done judiciously for someone else’s interest (On the Priesthood). Jerome similarly defends occasional acts of dishonesty on the grounds that lies can be well intentioned and have good effects (Apology against Rufinus).
See also Deception; Honesty; Integrity; Truthfulness, Truth-Telling
Bibliography
Griffiths, P. Lying: An Augustinian Theology of Duplicity. Brazos, 2004; Ramsey, B. “Two Traditions on Lying and Deception in the Ancient Church.” The Thomist 49 (1985): 504-33.
Elizabeth Agnew Cochran
Dissent is a considered judgment that departs from authoritative doctrine of the church. Generally marked by an acceptance both of the authority of the church and of the binding nature of Christian doctrine, true dissent objects to a particular point of teaching without seeking separation from the church and its authority.
Although dissent often has been seen as a threat to church authority, church unity, and authentic doctrine, it also has been understood as a crucial tool spurring the church to needed reform and even supporting the development of doctrine. Dissent is neither heresy nor schism, though it can lead to either and has led to both.
Attending to Scripture
The key scriptural model for dissent is the story of Paul’s disagreement with Peter over the imposition of Mosaic law upon gentile converts to Christianity, told in both Acts 15 and Gal. 2:11-21. Paul’s own account makes clear that he saw Peter and James, in their separating themselves from gentile Christians, as “not acting consistently with the truth of the gospel” (Gal. 2:14). Although Paul made his case boldly, he also traveled to Jerusalem to submit the question to the authority of the church (Acts 15:6).
The church as described in Scripture, though not without dissension and differences, had remained united as a single body, in accord with the prayer of Christ (John 17:22-23) and his reconciling power (2 Cor. 5:14-19). Paul was committed to the truth of the gospel, but he also was committed to the unity of the church and recognized Peter and the other apostles as having particular authority within it. Likewise, Peter and the apostles listened to Paul’s witness regarding the way the Spirit moved in the gentile church. Three key char-acteristics—respectful dissent, discerning ecclesial authorities, and all parties being committed to both the truth of the gospel and the unity of the church—allow for the church to move through dissent toward a deeper appropriation and embodiment of the truth of Christ.
Contemporary Context
The church today is marked more by disagreement than by dissent in the scriptural sense, largely because two of the areas of deepest disagreement among Christians involve who holds legitimate authority over doctrinal matters and what constitutes unity sufficient for the oneness of the church. In the absence of clear consensus or clear authority on these matters, disagreement often becomes mere difference of opinion, either within a broad and vague unity or across denominational divides. Because of the relationship between dissent and authoritative teaching, ecclesial bodies with more clearly defined structures of authority and more explicitly proclaimed doctrinal positions are more likely to have dissent develop and be maintained over time. In the context of widespread Catholic dissent from the papal teaching on contraception, Juan Arzube (204) has argued that the legitimacy of dissent depends on three criteria: the competence of the dissenter, the dissenter’s sustained effort to assent to the authoritative teaching, and the continued conviction in conscience of the contrary opinion.
See also Authority and Power; Conscience; Freedom; Loyalty
Bibliography
Arzube, J. “Criteria for Dissent in the Church.” Pages 202—5 in The Magisterium and Morality, ed. C. Curran and R. McCormick. RMT 3. Paulist Press, 1982; Curran, C., and R. McCormick, eds. Dissent in the Church. RMT 6. Paulist Press, 1988.
Dana L. Dillon
Magic may be defined as manipulation of supernatural powers in order to control events of nature or life circumstances. However, scholars of the subject recently have focused on the inadequacy of this definition and disagree on the distinction between magic and religion generally. The difficulty arises in the privileging of one’s religion by attributing illegitimate magic to one’s enemies, thus defining “otherness.” Magic and divination therefore are used in antiquity as a polemic to distinguish one’s own convictions, which were assumed to be religious, revelatory, and legitimate, from the activities of one’s enemies, said to be magical and idolatrous. As a branch or subdivision of magic, divination is the art of deciphering and interpreting signs, which are said to reveal the future. This article considers these definitions for ancient Western Asia generally before taking up the question of divination and magic in the Bible.
Divination and Magic in the Ancient World Early scholarly explanations of magic in the ancient world were related to developments in biblical theology It was assumed that magic and divination derived from foreign influences and were in direct opposition to orthodox Yahwism of the OT, and further that there was a stark contrast between ancient Near Eastern religion as naturalistic and Israelite religion as historical. However, distinctions between ancient Israelite religion and the religions of other peoples of the ancient Near East often have been overstated. For example, a false dichotomy often has been assumed between fertility or nature religion and Israel’s historically based religion. More recent investigations have turned to sociology and anthropology, which have criticized the assumption that magic was a primitive form of religion or a degeneration of religion (Jeffers 1-16; Dolansky). Such approaches have called into question any strict distinction between religion and magic that privileges the former, and have analyzed magic and divination as part and parcel of religious intermediations between the human and the divine.
Although dichotomies between biblical “historical” religion and ancient “naturalistic” religions must be discarded as overly simplistic, it remains true that biblical religion was distinctive in at least one central point. In a word, ancient Near Eastern and Greco-Roman religion was polytheistic and largely mythological, whereas biblical religion is monotheistic, largely enclosed in a narrative framework (Brichto 57). We may further observe, derived from this central difference, that ancient religions located ultimate power not with the gods but in an impersonal force beyond the deities to which even the gods themselves were susceptible. Thus, magic is central to ancient religion, as witnessed by the use of spells and incantations as a means for even the gods to exert power over one another and over nature.
This last point explains also the connection between magic and ritual in ancient religion. Magic and divination should be analyzed from the perspective of cosmology (Schmitt 67-106). In the ancient worldview, the cosmos is ordered at creation in a system of correspondences that are preserved in rituals. Thus ritualistic magic is humanity’s wish for order in an otherwise chaotic universe, in a belief system that assumes that the ritual has a correspondence in heaven. Frequently, magicians were credited with extraordinary powers related to the use of words, audible pronouncements or inscriptions, which were believed to work automatically. Thus, magicians at times were characterized as bearers of the power of speech whose words were put into effect virtually immediately (for examples, see several of the articles in Mirecki and Meyer). Special words or phrases could be secret or be special names of gods or angels. Magical curses were not words bearing an innate power, as was once thought, but were performative utterances or illocutionary speech-acts in which the articulation of the words themselves involved performing an act (Aitken 13-17; Thiselton). Mesopotamian and Hittite theorists maintained a clear distinction between black or malicious magic (sorcery) and white or defensive magic, which was considered a gift of the gods (Black and Green 124-25).
The ancient world had a number of specialists, diviners, enchanters, magicians, and oracular practitioners, and many divinatory techniques. Of these, dreams were perceived as encoded revelations of the highest order. Message dreams require no interpretation, for in them a god or other figure appears in order to communicate by spoken word. In symbolic dreams, however, the dreamer observes enigmatic visual images that require oneiromancy, or dream interpretation (Noegel). For ancient Egyptians, dreams were a portal to the divine realm, requiring great technical skill to interpret them. Hence, the Egyptians produced dream manuals as early as the thirteenth century BCE, listing various dream possibilities and their corresponding good or bad meanings.
Many other divinatory techniques are attested in the ancient world, all based on the conviction that the various parts of the universe reflect a whole that is interconnected (Jeffers 144-96). Most ancients accepted the movement of the stars and planets as reflecting divine will, so that nearly all sought omens from celestial phenomena (astrology). But any phenomenon could be associated with a reflection of divine dispositions, providing a medium for divine communication. The moment in time when a priest sacrifices an animal to a deity was perceived as especially noteworthy because the ritual of the sacrifice provided a heightened sense of the nexus between the gods and the human realm. Over the centuries, the assumption of regularity in divine communication led to observations of unique or unusual patterns in the animal’s organs, so that details of the animal’s liver (hepatoscopy) or entrails (extispicy, with special interest in the gall bladder, kidneys, and lungs, as well as abnormal fetuses) were analyzed for omens in Mesopotamia beginning in the late third millennium BCE (cf. Ezek. 21:21). These observations were recorded for posterity and passed along from generation to generation, leaving a significant body of literature on the subject. Clay liver models have been found at Babylon, Alalakh, Mari, and Hazor, some inscribed with omens and instructional formulas for students of hepatoscopy.
In addition to these, the ancients showed interest in other mediums of divination, such as hair patterning, bird flight patterns, meteorites, or unusual weather patterns. We have examples of divination by means of water (hydromancy), invocation of the spirits of the dead (necromancy), the use of wood as a medium of divination (rhabdomancy), and several others (Jeffers 144-96). In later literature, Greek mageia (“magic”; Lat. magia) and related words derive from Persian magus, designating a person from an ancient Medo-Persian tribe with priestly functions (Graf 20). With the rise of Hellenism, the interest in magic and divination continued throughout the Mediterranean world, yielding numerous texts of ritual power, featuring amulets, incantation bowls, and other artifacts thought to aid the practitioner in addressing medical, demonic, or social problems.
Divination and Magic in the Bible
Internal evidence in the Bible on magic and divination is complex. We find condemnation of them in terms that acknowledge their effects, and yet other references that view certain magic-like practices positively. Even in the pentateuchal prohibitions, magic is condemned not because it is illusory or imaginary and thus ineffective; on the contrary, the Bible assumes that it is real and effective. The causes for magic’s rejection must therefore be sought in the Bible’s alternative worldview, its articulation of the very nature of God, and its understanding and definition of a proper relationship with God. Such causes for the ban on magic are not embedded in the distinctiveness of biblical religion as historical vis-a-vis the naturalistic religions of the ancient world. Rather, the very nature of God and God’s means of revelatory communication with humans precludes the possibility of manipulation. God reveals only what God chooses to reveal to humanity, and no amount of magic or divination can wrest more from God.
The OT does not have a word magic per se, but rather condemns in vociferous language those who practice magical rites and ritual power. The Pentateuch contains a number of texts cataloging magical practices thought to be abominable to God and worthy of exile for all those who practice them. The most complete list is Deut. 18:10-11: “No one shall be found among you who makes a son or daughter pass through fire, or who practices divination, or is a soothsayer, or an augur, or a sorcerer, or one who casts spells, or who consults ghosts or spirits, or who seeks oracles from the dead.” The concept of child sacrifice is clear enough, but the precise definition of the others is in doubt (for more on what follows, see Jeffers 25-101; Schmitt 107-22, 339-45). The term qesem is a technical one for divination generally, and it probably serves as the general term for which the specifics are detailed in what follows. The concept of soothsaying (Poel of anan) was a subtype of divination likely involving an oracle, although its precise ritual or practice is unknown (cf. Isa. 2:6;
2 Kgs. 21:6; Mic. 5:12). The practice of augury (Piel of nahas), again a general term, probably denotes the taking of omens or the ability to read signs in natural phenomena. The difference between practicing sorcery (Piel of kasap) and the casting of spells (verb habar, noun heber) is not entirely clear. The ancient versions suggest that a sorcerer (LXX, pharmakos; Vulg., incantator) is an herbalist, using herbs while reciting incantations, although scholars today are not agreed about the accuracy of these translations. The spellbinder was assumed to have power over words to cast spells on others, binding them by his power. Whatever the similarities or differences between sorcery and spell-binding, both have moved from seeking discernment and guidance to exercising control over another.
The final abomination mentioned in Deut. 18:11 is necromancy, or consultation of the dead, which is known from other ancient cultures. The OT terminology for this practice is obscure, but a few details may be deduced from the recurrence of these terms elsewhere in the Bible. The Deutero-nomic prohibition denounces those who consult “mediums” and “spiritists” (ob and yidde'oni), or the NRSV’s “ghosts” and “spirits.” The first of these appears to have signified the deified spirit of one’s ancestor at first, and subsequently the ancestral image in a more transient, preternatural manner. The second term, “spiritist,” seems to denote the necromantic practices involved in communicating with the deceased ancestor, and used together with “medium” it serves to give definition to the ancestor cult generally (Arnold 200-201). We have evidence that necromancy was practiced irregularly in Israel itself.
These magical practices condemned in Deut. 18:10-11 are also prohibited in Exod. 22:18; Lev. 19:26, 31; 20:6, 27. Thus, the legal portions of the Pentateuch are univocal in renouncing magical practices. But other internal evidence in the OT, including that of the Pentateuch itself, is much more accepting of magic and divination. So, for example, Laban learned “by divination” that God had blessed him through his nephew Jacob (Gen. 30:27). The nature of Laban’s divination is not given, but the verb used of his activity (Piel of nahas) is one of those condemned in Deuteronomy and has a corresponding noun form used of Balaam’s practice of looking for omens (Num. 24:1). Moreover, this is the same word used of Joseph, who is said to use a cup “for divination” (Gen. 44:5, 15). The use of vessel inquiry, or lecanomancy, may have been a variation of hydro-mancy or the ability to discern the will of the gods by gazing on the surface of oil on water. No matter the divinatory specifics, we find no condemnation of Laban, Balaam, or Joseph for these practices.
In addition, dream interpretation is highly valued as an acceptable means of prophecy in the Joseph novel (Gen. 37:5-9; 40:5-19; 41:1-36). Dreams occurred elsewhere in Genesis, where they served as a kind of deus ex machina, in which God makes decrees or proclamations (Gen. 20:3-7; 28:12-17; 31:10-13). Such message dreams did not require interpretation, and they seldom functioned as prophecies of future events or as acceptable means of Israelite prophetic divination. In Joseph’s case, the dreams are symbolic rather than the message type, and they clearly need interpretation. Significant for his Egyptian context, Joseph credits God with the giving of useful interpretations of dreams that are otherwise unintelligible (Gen. 40:8; 41:16).
Another divinatory practice in the OT, far from renounced but instead encouraged, is cleromancy, the casting of lots. This practice is listed as one of three methods acceptable for seeking God’s guidance, the others being dreams and prophecy (1 Sam. 28:6). The lots of the OT, the “Urim and Thummim,” were housed in the priestly breast-piece attached to the ephod (Exod. 28:28-30). Although their precise nature is in doubt, they were likely cubic stones of different colors, perhaps marked “yes” and “no.” They were thus an adaptation of the use of lots, which was a common custom from everyday life in the ancient world useful for making impartial decisions, much as our coin toss today (Tarragon). In Israel, they served as a divinely sanctioned method of divination in which they functioned not so much to understand the future as to bring one’s deeds into conformity with the will of God. The legitimate use of clero-mancy was thus used by the historian of David’s rise in 1 Samuel to contrast him with Saul’s use of necromancy (Arnold).
In Exodus, Moses and Aaron are able to perform the same ritual power as the Egyptian “magicians” (hartummtm, an Egyptian loanword designating a priestly official [Exod. 7:11]). The magical techniques of Moses and Aaron are the same as their Egyptian counterparts, except that their deity is more powerful. The magic rods of the Egyptian court are turned into snakes to match the miracle performed with Aaron’s staff, only to be consumed by Aaron’s staff (Exod. 7:12). The Egyptians could also turn water to blood, so that even this miracle failed to persuade Pharaoh to release the Israelites (Exod. 7:22). The Egyptians were also able to match Moses and Aaron with frogs (Exod. 8:7), but they came to the end of their abilities with gnats, whereby they were forced to admit, “This is the finger of God!” (Exod. 8:19). In this way, the Egyptians themselves admit that they are only magicians, whereas the Israelites are instruments in the hand of God, who is performing signs and wonders beyond mere magic.
Some scholars have attempted to explain the inconsistency of prohibiting yet permitting magic by means of evolutionary processes, in which a gradual decline of such practices may be traced historically in ancient Israel. More likely, however, portions of the OT are polemical in nature, denigrating the use and effectiveness of foreign divinatory practices while accepting the validity and usefulness of similar practices in the hands of Israelite protagonists.
The techniques and practices of other ancient Near Eastern prophetic communication are often indistinguishable from Israelite practices. As can be said of Moses and Aaron and their use of techniques quite similar to those used by the Egyptian magicians, so in Genesis the use of dream interpretation is not entirely different from the rest of the ancient world. Rather, the biblical heroes hold to a different conception of divinity. So while the techniques may be similar or even the same, the difference is in Joseph’s (or Moses’ or Daniel’s) understanding of God. The genius of the narrator’s use of dream interpretation in the Joseph novel is the way the text stresses the superiority of the Yahweh-inspired court diviner from within the tradition of such diviners (Cryer 183).
The NT contains much less direct evidence related to divination and magic. In Acts 8:9-11, Simon of Samaria is accused of practicing magic (verb mageuo) and amazing the people of the city with his powerful magic (noun mageia). But when the city was evangelized by Philip, the people turned away from Simon and turned to Christ, and even Simon himself was baptized and was amazed by the “signs and great miracles” taking place under Philip’s ministry. Similarly, Bar-Jesus (aka Elymas), a Cyprian magician (magos), attempted to oppose the work of Barnabas, Paul, and John on the island (Acts 13:6-8). Paul renounced Bar-Jesus as the “son of the devil” and struck him with blindness (Acts 13:9-12). At Ephesus, the seven sons of Sceva the high priest were among those who “practiced magic” (prasso ta perierga) according to the instruction of certain books, most likely exorcism, although the evil spirit mocked them (“Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are you?”) and overpowered them (Acts 19:13-19). Sorcerers are listed among the wicked to be punished in Revelation (21:8; 22:15; cf. 9:21), and sorcery is included in a list of vices in Gal. 5:20. Thus, the distinction between legitimate, God-directed miracles and illegitimate magic took root early in Christian thought. Today, Christians eschew magic both because of these explicit prohibitions in both Testaments, and because of the general understanding of magic as an illegitimate attempt to manipulate God.
This understanding of magic and divination, derived as it is from the alternative worldview of the Bible in distinction to manipulative uses of magic in antiquity, should also inform contemporary perspectives on prayer and spiritual formation. Prayer in the Bible is relational (“If you abide in me . . .” [John 15:7]), communal, and based on confession and forgiveness (Jas. 5:15-16), but never manipulative. Whether it is Abraham, Moses, or Daniel (Gen. 18:16-33; Deut. 9:25-29; Dan. 9:2-23), the supplicant’s hope is based on prior relationship with God. Prayer is thus vital to the formation of Christlikeness in the life of the believer, whereas reliance on magic is detrimental to one’s relationship with God.
See also Blessing and Cursing; Necromancy Bibliography
Aitken, J. The Semantics of Blessing and Cursing in Ancient Hebrew. ANESSup 23. Peeters, 2007; Arnold, B. “Necromancy and Cleromancy in 1 and 2 Samuel.” CBQ 66 (2004): 199-213; Black, J., and A. Green. Gods, Demons, and Symbols of Ancient Mesopotamia. University of Texas Press, 1992; Brichto, H. The Names of God: Poetic Readings in Biblical Beginnings. Oxford University Press, 1998; Cryer, F. Divination in Ancient Israel and Its Near Eastern Environment: A Socio-Historical Investigation. JSOTSup 142. JSOT Press, 1994; Dickie, M. Magic and Magicians in the Greco-Roman World. Routledge, 2001; Dolansky, S. Now You See It, Now You Don’t: Biblical Perspectives on the Relationship between Magic and Religion. Eisen-brauns, 2008; Graf, F. Magic in the Ancient World. Trans. F. Philip. RA 10. Harvard University Press, 1997; Jeffers, A. Magic and Divination in Ancient Palestine and Syria. SHANE 8. Brill, 1996; Mirecki, P., and M. Meyer, eds. Magic and Ritual in the Ancient World. RGRW 141. Brill, 2002; Noegel, S. Nocturnal Ciphers: The Allusive Language of Dreams in the Ancient Near East. AOS 89. American Oriental Society, 2007; Schmitt, R. Magie im Alten Testament. AOAT 313. Ugarit-Verlag, 2004; Tarragon, J.-M. de. “Witchcraft, Magic, and Divination in Canaan and Ancient Israel.” Pages 2071-81 in vol. 4 of Civilizations of the Ancient Near East, ed. J. Sasson. Scribner, 1995; Thiselton, A. “The Supposed Power of Words in the Biblical Writings.” JTS 25 (1974): 283-99.
Bill T. Arnold
Divine command theories of ethics have in common the belief that commands that prescribe what humans ought or ought not to do have their source in God, who is the divine commander. Divine command theories are often classified in metaethical theories called “theological voluntarism,” in that the normative and moral status of commands is right because God wills them. The legitimacy of commands is rooted in God’s authority and sovereignty and God’s own moral excellence, thereby making divine commands the foundation of morality and an integral part of understanding and participating in God’s moral will. In order for God’s commands to be ascertained, they must be communicated to humans in ways that are understandable, through natural law, divine revelation, the human conscience, or a personal encounter, given that they assume an obedient response. In most divine command theories God does not override human free will or coerce blind obedience. Human responsibility remains an important part of divine command theories because commands are constitutive of social practices (Adams 249) that bind God to humans, humans to God, and humans to one another in acts of promising and fulfilling obligations vital for maintaining relationships. God is not an arbitrary giver of commands but instead issues commands out of love and grace as a way to guide humans into right living. God’s commands are viewed as purposeful and trustworthy because God is believed to be so. These commands are issued to humans who are free to follow or reject them. Obedience to God’s commands enables humans to fulfill moral obligations and incur benefits that allow them to thrive, whereas disobedience has consequences that bring harm to persons and communities.
Scripture is an essential source in most divine command theories for understanding commands issued by God to humans and ascertaining the will of God. Scripture functions in two primary ways. Scripture contains literal rules and commands issued by God, making them obligatory for humans to understand and follow. The quintessential example often referenced is the Decalogue (Exod. 20:1-17; Deut. 5:6-21). God’s moral will is contained in specific directives that tell persons what to do or what not to do, with the expectation of obedience. Scripture is also the command of God in a more general sense. Scripture expresses the will of God in all its various genres and guides humans in understanding how to fulfill the greatest commandments as summarized by Jesus: “ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets” (Matt. 22:37-40).
Divine command theories of ethics share affinities with deontological theories of ethics in that moral content is contained in rules and emphasis is given to following these rules for fulfilling moral requirements. Divine command theories may also encompass aspects of teleological theories of ethics because God’s commands are viewed as purposeful and a means for ordering human life and furthering God’s purposes for the world. In obeying divine commands, we participate in divine goodness. Divine command theories may also encompass aspects of virtue ethics in that obedience to God’s commands inculcates and shapes affections, desires, and behaviors, enabling humans to grow in wisdom and right living.
Divine command theories have been an important part of Christian moral thought due to affirmations of God’s sovereignty and goodness, the primary role of Scripture as a means of God’s communication, and the capacity that humans have to understand the requirements of God. The following persons represent divine command theories because of their understanding that God’s will for humans is realized through obedience to divine commands, even though some of them could not be given the label “divine command theorist,” given the later classification of these theories in the historical development of ethical theory.
Augustine
Augustine of Hippo (354-430), influential in shaping much of Western theology and ethics, upheld the idea of God’s goodness as the end to which humans should aspire. Although humans may possess the will and reason to understand the good, the reality of sin necessitates a Divine Master whose divine law provides the order and peace needed for one’s internal state as well as for ordered communities. In obeying the Divine Master there is true freedom and justice that come when human societies reflect the eternal order, or the city of God, as opposed to the disorder and chaos caused by sin in the earthly city. Obedience to God is also the means of control over the appetites of the body and vices of the soul. A will misdirected away from the good is the source of sin, evil, and vice. The will directed back toward God becomes more virtuous and more loving as it submits to God’s eternal law as the ultimate good. Like most patristic thinkers, Augustine assumed that Scripture had authority because it was composed by the Divine Spirit (Augustine, Civ. 11.3) and therefore contained the commands of God.
John Calvin
The Protestant Reformer John Calvin (1509-64) espoused a high view of the sovereignty of God from which came his particular understanding of the purpose of divine commands. For Calvin, God has the divine right to command. The commandments are an integral part of God’s covenant with humanity, and obedience is an expression of worship. Obedience to divine laws, especially those codified in the Decalogue, is the means by which humans glorify God, grow in holiness, and ensure justice and righteousness. The “two tables of the law” provide a dual focus for human obedience to God as the sovereign giver of commands. The first table includes the commands to worship God alone, while the second table contains the commands by which humans are to treat others. In this way, the divine commands of God provide instruction for “inward spiritual righteousness” and “outward decency” (Calvin, Institutes 2.8.5). God’s commands are purposeful and perfect and are offered as gifts, as “allures,” that assist humans in understanding the will of God and for living holy lives. By obeying the commands, humans not only avert God’s judgment but also please God and are rewarded accordingly.
Karl Barth
Karl Barth (1886-1968), the Swiss neoorthodox theologian, believed that the ultimate command of God has been offered in Jesus Christ, who calls persons to a life of obedience patterned after him, thereby concretizing the commands of God. Barth’s understanding of God’s commands is based on two key theological propositions. The first is that God has the right and freedom to issue commands to humans. Humans lack the capacity to understand what God requires because God is “wholly Other.” God therefore took the initiative in Christ by demonstrating what is required of humans. In Christ, not only are the requirements of the law fulfilled but also God provides all that humans need to freely respond and obey. In saying yes to Christ, the living Word, we say yes to God. The second proposition is that the law is a form of grace. The commands are gifts of grace that enable persons to obey the mandates of the gospel by loving God and loving others as Christ did. Recipients of grace are motivated by love and gratitude to God expressed in their obedience to divine commands. Obedience is not the end but instead the means by which humans are restored to divine likeness and reconciled with God and with others. The commands of God continue to come to humans through the preached word, the written word, and the living Word, which call persons to concrete responses to Christ manifested in obedience.
Philip Quinn
American philosopher and theologian Philip J. Quinn (1940-2004) supported divine command theory based on philosophical theology, Scripture, and the two greatest commands of J esus. Like most divine command theorists, Quinn relied on a metaphysical image of divine sovereignty that extends into all realms of life, including the moral. God’s commands rest on God’s own moral truths, which God has and knows to be morally superior because of omniscience inherent with divinity. God’s intellect, or what God knows to be good, and what God wills for humans to do are integrated and made known in divine commands. Divine commands are expressions of God’s own wisdom as the allknowing Sovereign and reflect the will of God. Quinn also supported a divine command theory of ethics by an appeal to Scripture, which is replete with commands that God gives to humans. Both the OT and the NT assume God as commander who issues instructions through the various genres of Scripture that direct humans in fulfilling their moral obligations through obedience. Jesus’ two great commandments—to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves—are given to humans precisely because it is against our nature to do so. We must be commanded to fulfill the requirements of God against our inclinations. This kind of commanded love is foundational for Christian ethics.
Richard Mouw
Philosopher and theologian Richard Mouw provides a comprehensive contemporary articulation of divine command theory that expands the concept in important ways. Though affirming the Reformation tenet of sola scriptura, Mouw does not confine the command of God to the imperatives found in Scripture. Instead, commands ought to be interpreted and understood in light of the entirety of Scripture so that we may understand the character of God, ascertain God’s creative and redemptive purposes, and comprehend the kinds of persons we should aspire to be. In doing so, we learn to “conform to what God requires” (Mouw 10), which encompasses far more than just obeying an isolated command in the Bible. Mouw also acknowledges the narratival dimensions of God’s commands in Scripture. Divine command theory ought not to be set at odds with other construals of the moral life, such as narrative or virtue ethics, but instead includes them. Divine command theory does and should encompass the larger narrative of God’s commands and locates them in a larger framework of morality. Obedience then becomes a willing and joyful means by which moral character is shaped, virtues are learned, and moral preparedness is developed. It is important, according to Mouw, that our understanding of God as divine commander be informed by a trinitarian understanding of God lest our view of the purpose, direction, and shape of the commands of God be one-dimensional and misunderstood. God the Father graciously provides divine legislation in Scripture and nature (Mouw 150); Jesus is the perfect embodiment of a life of obedience that fulfilled all that God requires; the Holy Spirit makes doing the will of God possible.
Scripture and Divine Commands Scripture, seen as a primary way in which God’s will is communicated to humans, plays a prominent role in divine command theories. Five considerations are important for ascertaining the relationships between Scripture and divine command theories.
First, divine command theorists, like all persons, have a priori assumptions about God that inform an understanding of Scripture’s purpose as a means by which God communicates and commands, even as Scripture shapes our views of what God is like. Plato’s “Euthyphro dilemma” poses a particular challenge for divine command theories: is something right because God commands it, or does God command it because it is right? Divine command theorists assume a view of the God of Jewish and Christian traditions revealed in the Scriptures as a good and just Sovereign, motivated by love, grace, and mercy for all that is created, and whose own goodness becomes the grounds for moral excellence and right living. The answer given by divine command theory to the dilemma is simply yes because of the bond between God’s character and commands, which cannot be separated. The commands of Scripture are right because God commands them, and God commands them because they are right. Divine commands are right because they come from God, they are trustworthy because God is trustworthy, and God graciously gives them to humans because they are right and good to follow.
Second, divine command theories acknowledge the hermeneutical and interpretive dimensions to commands in Scripture. All commands are located in a larger narrative context, whether that be the immediate context of a particular text or biblical book, the canonical context, or the overall narrative context and purposes of Scripture. What one may be commanded to do in Scripture is not always self-evident without requisite attention to the contexts of commands. What God requires is communicated in forms other than imperatives. For example, the requirement to “do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” is contained in prophetic material (Mic. 6:8). Jesus’ command, “Go and do likewise” comes after a story about the actions of a merciful Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). Paul orders the believers at Philippi, “Make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind” (Phil. 2:2). This requirement for Christian behavior is premised on the example and attitude of Jesus (Phil. 2:5-8). Failure to take seriously the interpretive contexts of commands minimizes the purposes, the telos, to which commands are directed and flattens the requirements by relegating morality to merely obeying a rule or principle as the sum total of what God requires.
The third issue relates to the relationship between the OT and the NT often framed in the question “How do we determine which commands must be obeyed and which ones are no longer binding?” This question may arise from a perception that there is disjunction between the OT and the NT, and that the law codes of the OT are irrelevant and arcane. It also caricatures the OT as law and the NT as grace, with the unfortunate consequence of breaking the relationship between the two. However, in Christian moral thought, when looking to Scripture for guidance,
we must understand divine command theory in
a covenantal ethical context. God initiates a covenant with humans as a gift of grace from which ensues loving responses of obedience to God and covenantal obligations to other persons. The commands of Scripture must be embedded and interpreted in this covenantal framework in order to help us understand how to think and act as God’s people and how to maintain conditions of justice and peace that the commands enable persons to do. Jesus affirmed that he did not come to abolish the law but rather to fulfill it (Matt. 5:17-20). His teaching, recorded by Matthew in the Sermon on the Mount, bears marked resemblance to the requirements of the law in the OT and must have been recognized by Matthew’s Jewish audience. Jesus reminds people of the stringent moral obligations and the commands of God in the context of grace. This new covenantal framework, like the previous one, carries with it obligations to obey the commands of God as a response of grace and do exceedingly more than the law requires.
Fourth, divine command theories must confront the dilemma posed when there are conflicts between the commands of God and when what one might be commanded to do is morally problematic and even evil. Divine command theories do not assume that humans are not to question and discern what commands require. Commands are interpreted in light of an overarching narrative of God’s priorities and what God is doing in and through the contexts in which commands are located. Humans do make prima facie determinations about which requirements are self-evident in light of the character and purposes of God. Extracting commands from narrative contexts, such as God’s command to Abraham to sacrifice Isaac (Gen. 22:1-19) or to the Israelites to exterminate groups of people (Deut. 7:1-6) requires discernment to understand both the placement of these narratives in light of God’s history with God’s people and how these narratives are normative for Christian faith and practice in light of the gospel.
Fifth, divine command theories are moral frameworks that locate the commands of Scripture in the good purposes of God. This reaffirms the relationship between God and Scripture. Scripture’s authority is related to God’s, and God offers the gift of Scripture to enable humans to freely discern, wonder, ponder, and continually explore what God requires of them. Obedience to divine commands is not the end but rather a means by which God’s purposes and goods are realized. Since divine commands are related to God’s character and are located in the larger narrative of Scripture, they serve multiple purposes beyond just grudging and coerced obedience. God’s commands are gifts of grace to humans who freely choose, gifts intended to aid them in decisionmaking, discernment, and character formation. Divine commands, broadly conceived, offered in Scripture enable humans to participate in God’s goodness and good work, train them in ways of righteousness and justice, enable them to practice doing things that shape their affections, and, in doing so, manifest the good will of God in lives that seek to fulfill what God requires.
See also Covenant; Covenantal Ethics; Deontological Theories of Ethics; Love, Love Command; Moral Law; Narrative Ethics, Biblical; Narrative Ethics, Contemporary; Teleological Theories of Ethics; Ten Commandments; Virtue Ethics
Bibliography
Adams, R. “Divine Commands.” Pages 249-76 in Finite and Infinite Goods: A Framework for Ethics. Oxford University Press, 1999; Barth, K. Church Dogmatics. Vol. II/2. Trans. A. Mackay et al. T&T Clark, 1957; Hare, J. God’s Call:
Moral Realism, God’s Commands, and Human Autonomy. Eerdmans, 2001; Miller, P. “Divine Command and Beyond: The Ethics of the Commandments.” Pages 12—29 in The Ten Commandments: The Reciprocity of Faithfulness, ed. W. Brown. Westminster John Knox, 2004; Mouw, R. The God Who Commands. University of Notre Dame Press, 1999; Quinn, P. Divine Commands and Moral Requirements. Clarendon, 1978; Porter, J. “Trajectories in Christian Ethics.” Pages 227—34 in The Blackwell Companion to Religious Ethics, ed. W. Schweiker. Blackwell, 2008; Schweiker, W. “Divine Command Ethics and the Otherness of God.” Pages 155—70 in Power, Values and Conviction: Theological Ethics in the Postmodern Age. Pilgrim Press, 1998; Spohn, W. What Are They Saying about Scripture and Ethics? Paulist Press, 1995.
Wyndy Corbin Reuschling Divorce See Marriage and Divorce Donations, Organ See Bioethics Double Effect, Principle of
Paul rejected the principle “Let us do evil that good may come” (Rom. 3:8). Nevertheless, there are complexities still to be considered. Cutting open a living human being, for example, might be regarded as an evil. But what if a skilled surgeon does it in order to save the life of a patient? What if the consequence of the surgery is the patient’s death? What if the result of the surgery is certain to be, if not death, some other evil, say, dismemberment; may the surgery still be done? Perhaps sometimes we should do evil that good may come. In defense of Paul’s rejection of this principle and in response to the complexities involved, over long centuries the tradition of moral reflection in the church developed the principle of double effect.
Although Joseph Mangan, like others, argued that Thomas Aquinas first coined the principle of double effect, Josef Ghoos proved that the principle is a seventeenth-century summary insight of moral cases resolved during the conquests of the sixteenth century. After a century of casuistic questions, moralists began looking for commonalities among their case solutions and so articulated principles (such as double effect, material cooperation, and lesser evil) to help them in their new manuals of moral theology. In the sixteenth century Bartolomeo Medina (1528-80) and Gabriel Vasquez (1551-1604) began to name the common factors among the similar cases. Finally, John of St. Thomas (1589-1644) articulated the factors into the conditions of the principle as such.
Since the seventeenth century, the principle has referred to an act with two effects, one right and one wrong, that can be performed when four conditions are met. Those conditions address, respectively, the object of activity, the intention, the material cause of the act, and proportionate reason. They are listed as follows:
1. The object of the action is right or indifferent in itself; it is not intrinsically wrong.
2. The wrong effect, though foreseen, cannot be intended.
3. The wrong effect cannot be the means to the right effect.
4. There must be proportionate reason for allowing the wrong effect to occur.
Two of the most frequently cited cases used to illustrate the principle are the destruction of military targets in civilian areas and the administration of painkillers to dying patients. Many moralists declared that instances of the first case were morally permissible if they conformed to the principle’s four conditions. Often they considered it permissible that a munitions factory, absolutely necessary for an enemy’s war on others, be destroyed even if it is found behind enemy lines in civilian areas. They would add that the target is not the civilians but rather singularly the factory, and that collateral damage needs be held to a minimum. These arguments have been held since 1570, but later in the moral manuals they were incorporated as instances of the later developed principle. During World War II, the Vietnam War, and the Iraq War, the principle’s application has come under scrutiny precisely because some tried to justify bombing civilian areas as military targets by using the principle, but those attempts were universally rejected.
The second instance concerns administering painkillers to alleviate the pain of the terminally ill even if such administration compromised the patient’s life. This case has been much less controversial, and its solution was sanctioned by Pope Pius XII. Moralists often commented that it is pain relief, not the death of a patient, that is the object of the moral administration of such pain relief.
In recent years a few writers, especially the German theologian Peter Knauer, have argued that the first three conditions are incidental to the principle, and that all moral reasoning can be reduced to the fourth condition, proportionate reason. For them, the principle is an early expression of proportionate reasoning or what today is known as “proportionalism.” This method holds that moral arguments are resolved simply by weighing the proportionality of values and disvalues in conflict. Bruno Schueller objected that the principle is sensible only within a moral method, deontology, which asserts the possibility of the first condition: the object is not intrinsically wrong. The principle arises only in a method that already declares that the direct attack on civilian populations or the direct killing of a patient is wrong per se.
See also Casuistry; Deontological Theories of Ethics; Euthanasia; Intention; Just-War Theory; War
Bibliography
Ghoos, J., “L’Acte a double effet, etude de theologie positive.” ETL 27 (1951): 30-52; Keenan, J. “The Function of the Principle of Double Effect.” TS 54 (1993): 294-315; Knauer, P. “The Hermeneutic Function of the Principle of Double-Effect.” Pages 1-39 in Moral Norms and Catholic Tradition, ed. C. Curran and R. McCormick. RMT 1. Paulist Press, 1979; Mangan, J. “An Historical Analysis of the Principle of Double Effect.” TS 10 (1949): 41-61; McCormick, R. “The Principle of Double Effect.” Pages 413-29 in How Brave a New World? Dilemmas in Bioethics. SCM, 1981; Pius XII. “Address to Delegates to the Ninth National Congress of the Italian Society of the Science of Anesthetics.” CathM 55 (1957): 260-78; Schueller, B. “The Double Effect in Catholic Thought: A Reevaluation.” Pages 165-91 in Doing Evil to Achieve Good: Moral Choice in Conflict Situations, ed. R. McCormick and P. Ramsey. Loyola University Press, 1978; Ugorji, L. The Principle of Double Effect: A Critical Appraisal of Its Traditional Understanding and Its Modern Reinterpretation. Peter Lang, 1985.
James Keenan, SJ